It's amazing how much you appreciate solid food once you can no longer have it. For medical purposes (don't worry, I'm fine) I just ate my first meal in two days. It was General Gao's chicken and it was delicious. But this Thanksgiving, one of the things I am thankful for really might be the ability to eat solid food every day.
And my goodness, I drank literally two gallons of Gatorade yesterday to keep something in me. I am keeping that company in business. I'll throw it out there - blue is the best Gatorade. And orange is clearly the worst.
The Red Sox really need to pick it up. My advice is to stop sucking. Especially the starting pitching. John Lackey, I am looking at you, don't even try to hide in the corner.
My Professional Responsibility professor could make that class a lot more tolerable by speaking in clear, concise sentences. It would translate into notes much better. And it would clarify the rules. Instead, this is the kind of thing we listen to for two hours: "The test is two parts, with the first part being whether the lawyer has moved from one firm and is currently working at another firm, and this does not apply to secretaries, paralegals, or any other non-lawyers because they are regulated differently under the comments to Rule 1.10 which makes a difference between lawyers and non-lawyers because..." Now at this point, I have stopped paying attention and taking notes. But the problem is that it's a two part test. Remember he said that an hour ago? So if I tune out, I don't get the second part of the test. There is so much information in that sentence that it is impossible to write it all down. But its also redundant and/or useless information. Here is my proposal: "The test is two parts, with the first being whether the lawyer has moved firms and the second being whether the lawyer had a former client conflict. This test does not apply to non-lawyers..." and then he can go on and on with extraneous information. Complete sentences is what I'm asking for. End the run-ons. I don't need twelve clauses per sentence. Is that too much? Out of a lawyer? Probably.
Tuesday, September 20, 2011
Saturday, September 17, 2011
Senioritis - 3L Style
At school, all of my friends - all of them - and even some people I'm not friends with have constantly been talking about how bored they are and how useless classes seem. We all seem to have hit the 3L slump. Hitting it hard. My friend Sarah, a goodie-two-shoes by any measure, has stopped doing reading. It is brutal. "The first year they scare you to death; the second year they work you to death; the third year they bore you to death," is the aphorism and it really is holding up. Luckily, I have an internship to distract me from the motivation black hole that is law school. And I will finally be starting this upcoming week. It only took the first three weeks of school to get all the necessary approvals. Thanks for holding up lots of my paperwork, school. I appreciate it. But I really am looking forward to beginning work.
It is alumni weekend at my law school. I scoff the very idea. I understand that I may eat my words later for whatever reason, but as things stand now I will never donate a dime to my law school. I'm all about undergraduate alma maters. Who roots for their grad school's sports team? Unless you are really in need of something to root for. In that case, I would recommend rooting for the Red Sox. Woo!
Also, I'm glad that NFL football is back. It gives purpose to Sunday afternoons and provides a respite from the homework that has been sitting around since Wednesday.
They say wine makes you sleepy, so I tried to take a nap today cuddling a bottle of chardonnay. It worked though, I got an hour of sleep in. Next time I'm going to spoon with a fifth of whiskey and see what happens.
It is alumni weekend at my law school. I scoff the very idea. I understand that I may eat my words later for whatever reason, but as things stand now I will never donate a dime to my law school. I'm all about undergraduate alma maters. Who roots for their grad school's sports team? Unless you are really in need of something to root for. In that case, I would recommend rooting for the Red Sox. Woo!
Also, I'm glad that NFL football is back. It gives purpose to Sunday afternoons and provides a respite from the homework that has been sitting around since Wednesday.
They say wine makes you sleepy, so I tried to take a nap today cuddling a bottle of chardonnay. It worked though, I got an hour of sleep in. Next time I'm going to spoon with a fifth of whiskey and see what happens.
Saturday, September 10, 2011
Ruby Tuesday's Is Hereby Pronounced Awful
I am better than Ruby Tuesday's. That terrible suburban institution with an overpriced salad bar that masquerades as a restaurant. That Applebees-wannabe. Heck, Ruby Tuesday's would like to be Chili's. It does not deserve the Rolling Stones song I associate with it. Last night I ate at Ruby Tuesday's (it was at least my second mistake of the evening) and ordered some barbecue chicken with two sides. The sides were fine (broccoli and potatoes) but the chicken was atrocious. It was cooked into rubber. And my waitress...could not have cared less about my predicament. So I ate my sides and the garlic bread, while my main course just sat there and was eventually cleared away. It was like going to bed without dinner. I am underweight right now and need to protein up. Bring on the protein! But, alas, there was nothing edible about that rubbery barbecue concoction.
So this afternoon, I whipped up some random chicken concoction in my kitchen. Just to prove that I can cook better than Ruby Tuesday's, that heinous establishment. And you know what? My chicken was cooked well. You could taste the food. Ruby Tuesday's threw a 6-hour old hunk of overcooked meat on a plate and smothered it in sauce, hoping I would forget that I ordered chicken. Well I did not forget. Now, Ruby Tuesday's, you should come try my chicken. It's a new recipe. I call it, Better-Than-Ruby-Tuesday's chicken. No, I'm not spiteful at all.
In Public Interest Lawyering, The Incredible Hulk sat behind me this week. It was only a partial success. It was good, in that I could actually see what the hell was going on in the room. It was bad in that The Incredible Hulk seems incapable of sitting in a chair like a human being. So he kept stretching out his legs and kicking my chair, bag, and computer cord. Then he would retract his feet, cross them in the conference room chair (really, are you five??), then uncross, stretch, and repeat. And he doesn't respond to my pseudo-Pavlovian training! Every time he kicked my chair, I turned around and gave him an aggravated look. But he failed to get the message. Stop kicking my chair, The Incredible Hulk! Act more Bruce Banner.
The rest of the week was highlighted by a poorly timed fantasy football draft. The draft was at 7. I had a meeting at school at 8. So I had to draft the entire meeting and stay at school afterwards. And I couldn't pee, the entire time. Very frustrating. Big problems. Whatever, the meeting was useless anyways. Moot Court Board - what's that mean anyways?
So this afternoon, I whipped up some random chicken concoction in my kitchen. Just to prove that I can cook better than Ruby Tuesday's, that heinous establishment. And you know what? My chicken was cooked well. You could taste the food. Ruby Tuesday's threw a 6-hour old hunk of overcooked meat on a plate and smothered it in sauce, hoping I would forget that I ordered chicken. Well I did not forget. Now, Ruby Tuesday's, you should come try my chicken. It's a new recipe. I call it, Better-Than-Ruby-Tuesday's chicken. No, I'm not spiteful at all.
In Public Interest Lawyering, The Incredible Hulk sat behind me this week. It was only a partial success. It was good, in that I could actually see what the hell was going on in the room. It was bad in that The Incredible Hulk seems incapable of sitting in a chair like a human being. So he kept stretching out his legs and kicking my chair, bag, and computer cord. Then he would retract his feet, cross them in the conference room chair (really, are you five??), then uncross, stretch, and repeat. And he doesn't respond to my pseudo-Pavlovian training! Every time he kicked my chair, I turned around and gave him an aggravated look. But he failed to get the message. Stop kicking my chair, The Incredible Hulk! Act more Bruce Banner.
The rest of the week was highlighted by a poorly timed fantasy football draft. The draft was at 7. I had a meeting at school at 8. So I had to draft the entire meeting and stay at school afterwards. And I couldn't pee, the entire time. Very frustrating. Big problems. Whatever, the meeting was useless anyways. Moot Court Board - what's that mean anyways?
Sunday, September 4, 2011
Fill In The Blanks
Right so I felt the past few days not feeling great. But I'm better now. There wasn't a whole lot to report from the depths of my apartment. Aside from The Great Roommate Swap, which is now complete. Ryan, my new roommate, is safely entrenched in his new surroundings. One upside is that I get a new, flashy television for the living room. Another is a fun, new roommate. A third is kitchen items that were lacking like baking sheets and a toaster. I sound so domestic. Like a dog. I just read an article in the New Yorker about Rin Tin Tin (a dog-actor, if you didn't know). See, I have been spending too much time indoors. Rin Tin Tin almost won an Oscar. That would be embarrassing if he had beaten out humans. Come to think of it, that is embarrassing to all the actors who were not Oscar nominees that year.
So school. That's a thing again. My Public Interest Lawyering class was...painful, to put it kindly. It's a 'discussion-based' small class where we will write 'reflection papers.' In other words, let's all talk about our internships and our feelings. Maybe after a good cry together we can change the world for the better. Grow up. The first part of the (2 hour long) class was spent going around the room so people could talk about themselves. Where are they from? Where are they interning? What year are they? And, most annoyingly, why did they want to go to law school? Look, I admire and respect people who work for organizations like Alliance to Help Disabled People With Legal Problems and other such places, but do we really need to get all feelings-y? I also couldn't help but get a slightly anti-corporate vibe from the room. In fact, I'm pretty sure someone made a dig about corporate law firms. More on that in a minute.
I was stuck in a seat at a conference table behind The Incredible Hulk. This guy is maybe 6'3" and 200 pounds. Big guy. That's totally fine. What is not fine is that he spent the entire two hours leaning forward in various positions that blocked me from view entirely. Elbows on the table, head forward, bringing his knees up in his seat, the whole bag. Since he is The Incredible Hulk and not The Invisible Man, I struggled for two hours to catch a glimpse of my professors, seated twenty feet away at the head of the table. Then he got worse. The Incredible Hulk told his story about why he came to law school: He was a campaign manager going door to door and met some woman in a bad neighborhood who begged his help because her son was autistic and she couldn't get the help she needed and the system totally failed her and he felt so bad so he knew he wanted to come to law school to help people. Cry me a freaking river. Yes, it's an unfortunate story. But it's also your law school admissions personal statement. I am not an admissions officer, and I don't give a damn. The classroom is not the appropriate place for you to talk about revelations you had regarding human suffering and inequity. I'm not cold-hearted. I have sympathy for the subject of his story. But in this context, all I have is an eye roll for him. If I could I would have vomited all over the back of his head (which was all I could see at that point). For the cherry on top, when he was asked what he wanted to do as a lawyer, The Incredible Hulk responded that he wanted to be a prosecutor. That...is not a way to this poor lady who apparently made you dedicate your life to helping people. That is a way to put people in jail. You idiot.
The Incredible Hulk's story was by far the most painful/touchy-feely of the bunch. But it turns out that everyone else in the class just works for various nonprofits. Some are pretty cool sounding. Some are not. But inevitably people wanted to work for some bleeding heart cause when they graduated. I wanted to ask the class a question: "How much debt do you have from law school and how do you intend to pay it off? I'm just wondering here. Is that a factor for anyone else?" Honestly and pragmatically, that is a factor for me and for a lot of other people. But no one seemed to give it a thought. So when I said I worked at a firm this summer I got a lot of looks. They ranged from "Oh...your one of those people"-type disdain, to "Oooo interesting"-type curiosity. Either way, I felt out of place. But I should have expected that in Public Interest Lawyering.
Now I don't mean to degrade public interest law. I really don't. I fully support it and I am happy to encourage people who genuinely are dedicated to public interest law and nothing else. And at some point in my career I would love to participate in public interest work. My caution is about people who ignore practicalities and people who are so cliched it makes me sick.
My anger is for...The Incredible Hulk. Learn to sit like a human being! This is a classroom, not your goddamn living room. Sit straight, be a little self-aware, and shut your mouth.
So school. That's a thing again. My Public Interest Lawyering class was...painful, to put it kindly. It's a 'discussion-based' small class where we will write 'reflection papers.' In other words, let's all talk about our internships and our feelings. Maybe after a good cry together we can change the world for the better. Grow up. The first part of the (2 hour long) class was spent going around the room so people could talk about themselves. Where are they from? Where are they interning? What year are they? And, most annoyingly, why did they want to go to law school? Look, I admire and respect people who work for organizations like Alliance to Help Disabled People With Legal Problems and other such places, but do we really need to get all feelings-y? I also couldn't help but get a slightly anti-corporate vibe from the room. In fact, I'm pretty sure someone made a dig about corporate law firms. More on that in a minute.
I was stuck in a seat at a conference table behind The Incredible Hulk. This guy is maybe 6'3" and 200 pounds. Big guy. That's totally fine. What is not fine is that he spent the entire two hours leaning forward in various positions that blocked me from view entirely. Elbows on the table, head forward, bringing his knees up in his seat, the whole bag. Since he is The Incredible Hulk and not The Invisible Man, I struggled for two hours to catch a glimpse of my professors, seated twenty feet away at the head of the table. Then he got worse. The Incredible Hulk told his story about why he came to law school: He was a campaign manager going door to door and met some woman in a bad neighborhood who begged his help because her son was autistic and she couldn't get the help she needed and the system totally failed her and he felt so bad so he knew he wanted to come to law school to help people. Cry me a freaking river. Yes, it's an unfortunate story. But it's also your law school admissions personal statement. I am not an admissions officer, and I don't give a damn. The classroom is not the appropriate place for you to talk about revelations you had regarding human suffering and inequity. I'm not cold-hearted. I have sympathy for the subject of his story. But in this context, all I have is an eye roll for him. If I could I would have vomited all over the back of his head (which was all I could see at that point). For the cherry on top, when he was asked what he wanted to do as a lawyer, The Incredible Hulk responded that he wanted to be a prosecutor. That...is not a way to this poor lady who apparently made you dedicate your life to helping people. That is a way to put people in jail. You idiot.
The Incredible Hulk's story was by far the most painful/touchy-feely of the bunch. But it turns out that everyone else in the class just works for various nonprofits. Some are pretty cool sounding. Some are not. But inevitably people wanted to work for some bleeding heart cause when they graduated. I wanted to ask the class a question: "How much debt do you have from law school and how do you intend to pay it off? I'm just wondering here. Is that a factor for anyone else?" Honestly and pragmatically, that is a factor for me and for a lot of other people. But no one seemed to give it a thought. So when I said I worked at a firm this summer I got a lot of looks. They ranged from "Oh...your one of those people"-type disdain, to "Oooo interesting"-type curiosity. Either way, I felt out of place. But I should have expected that in Public Interest Lawyering.
Now I don't mean to degrade public interest law. I really don't. I fully support it and I am happy to encourage people who genuinely are dedicated to public interest law and nothing else. And at some point in my career I would love to participate in public interest work. My caution is about people who ignore practicalities and people who are so cliched it makes me sick.
My anger is for...The Incredible Hulk. Learn to sit like a human being! This is a classroom, not your goddamn living room. Sit straight, be a little self-aware, and shut your mouth.
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