From T.S. Eliot’s “Little Gidding” What we call the beginning is often the end, and to make an end is to make a beginning. The end is where we start from. The end of all our exploring will be to arrive where we start and know the place for the first time.
I want to write a lot on here to catch up, but when I get going all of my memories from the past three months seem diluted by hours of studying and falling in love. I never expected the later to happen in Concord, NH or at law school. School has a way of putting you […]
I’m going to sit at the airport and think about this semester for a long time. I’m tired right now as you may be able to tell by the picture.
Two very stressful activities just happen to coincide for students – Christmas present shopping and final exams. The assumption is that we should put off shopping and focus on finals, but that’s kind of a Grinch thing to do. And, exams don’t really take that much time. However, it looks like I’ll be doing the […]
Update 2009: It cuts off.
The Queers (somewhere in Boston / Cambridge) – I enjoyed this show because it was, well, outside of my comfort zone. And, it made me functionally deaf for 48 hours. I’ve never heard an old man scream so loudly. Is it sacrilegious in a punk-rockish kind of way to say that about Joe Queer? Jenny Lewis […]
Update 2009: It cuts off.
Twitter is the “funnest” website I’ve found in months. It is an update service based entirely on the question, “What are you doing right now?” You can send updates via IM, text message, and of course from the web.
Oh, Twitter is what I use to update the Yugflog.com homepage and the content on the top of the sidebar to the right. This is all working towards what I hope will be a virtual data feed of all my communication.
Let me know if you join!
Yesterday, I sat in a Contracts review session from noon to 7pm and took 20 pages of notes.
Today, I sat in a Civil Procedure review session from 9am to 4:30pm and took 22 pages of notes.
I imagine that yesterday and today are what going to a conference would be like as an actual lawyer, except the conference would only be one shorter day and it would be followed by two days of skiing or golfing and a tax write-off.
Instructional self-help books I could write by drawing on my childhood experiences:
- How to want to be a construction worker.
- Why you shouldn’t wear shorts when it’s 52 degrees out.
- How to take an eight-second shower in eight seconds.
Definition: Microtasking is something done in the few moments between doing larger tasks.
For example, when I check my email between cooking dinner and watching a movie I am microtasking.
Personally, I’ve never felt like I did this as much as I do now. And I don’t think it’s a good thing because it leaves me with a hurried panicky feeling.
Why give drunk people glasses with high centers of gravity? Wine glasses are like accidents waiting to happen. I would think someone would make a glass for drunk people that was more like those baby cups with the rounded weighted bottoms that are impossible to tip over. At the worst, a little drink would slosh out.
Like any normal 25 year old boy-man, I sing loudly in the shower. Here are some of the lyrics I’ve recently come up with:
Song #1 – Untitled
When you come and when you go, I will always know because you are not a stealth plane.
Song #2 is also untitled and is a duet.
Do you like me?
Yes I like you. Liking you is a feeling that is affirmed everyday.
– Law has reason
– The cookie lady… being funny
– No time to do things well
– Midterm nightmares
– Our group being bad at passing papers across the row
– Introducing ourselves
– Variety of personalities
– Getting called on for the first time
– Research Report #2
– School’s care for 1Ls
– Contracts and cases involving women
– Causation expert in Torts
– October was the worst month
– Knowing you can survive
– Forgetting the clicker for Civ Pro
– Hard drive dying the Monday before the Civ Pro midterm
– Torts prof calling on a white shirt instead of red
– Exploding rat case in Torts
– Barry Shanks’ impersonations
– Southern kid getting welcomed to “Yankee Land”
– “Small-town Brooklyn”
– Writing down the reason why we’re in law school
– Feeling like you’re the dumbest person in the room… there’s only one
– Torts prof talking about loss of consortium (man had lost his hand)
– Lack of sleep
– Brad’s dance
– Contract professor assigning wrong problems
– Missing first day of Contracts because of accident on I-93
– Acoustics in the corner of the Rich Room
– Overestimating the amount of stress
– Weekly research assignments
– “Thanksgiving research assignment”
– Learning to like research
– Torts prof saying, “You should be very nervous about the exam”
– CivPro prof reciting all of our names from memory
– Property prof’s Halloween costume
– Question and answer from 1st Circuit arguments
– Every moment
– Getting confused by class
– Practice Torts exam – herd of charging buffalo and resultant dream
– 1/6th done
– Getting to take a nap after class
– Lack of decent restaurants in Concord
– Moving around in class to not get called on (according to prof, it works)… the girl was never called on in Torts or Contracts
– The amount of chalk Contracts prof could get on his face
– Missed Research Report #3 deadline
– CivPro map of Oklahoma
– Learning about the Dram Shop act, then experiencing it in real life
– “Slippery slope,” and something about dime and dollar
– Hating Concord, NH
– Getting called on… big difference from undergrad
– Contracts prof saying something about something
– “I see us as a little family.”
– The coffee… “never drank so much”
– “Rotting jeep” from oral arguments
– Enforcement of “sit in the middle” rule
– Now I can finally sleep in
– Getting called on when not prepared
– Getting called on again
– Contracts professor asking classmate if she was a buddhist because she kept making something out of nothing
– Name cards
– Difficulty with writing $750,000
– Free pizza
– Serious orientation… then the Judges were spinning in chairs
I won the U.S. Open in my dream last night, and with the satisfaction of beating the top golfers in the world came a $1,111,202.02 check. But, they gave me a standard check and a small trophy, and told me that the real trophy wasn’t ready. I didn’t really care, but looking back this should have tipped me off that I was dreaming. There’s no way they wouldn’t have the trophy ready.
Still, the dream was my best ever.
The back deck was fun. We were sitting under the pines standing tall above the roof of the house. I liked to look up and try to see the sky. The table was gooey in places and I had to watch what I touched. Sticky fingers – like someone rubbed marshmallows all over.”Chris, say grace so we can get started,” mom said.
For a little bit I looked around to make sure that everyone had their hands together and heads down. “God is good, God is great. Let us thank Him for our food. By His hands we must be fed. Thank you, dear Lord for our daily bread.”
And when I finished, we all said, “Amen.”
I looked up fast – before everyone else, as if to check that we were all still there. Mom and dad were by the grill. My little sister sat still, dwarfed by the ugly yellow deck chair.
“Grandpa, how’s the baseball on TV?” I asked. He was sitting at the end of the table with his wooden cane hooked on his chair. I looked his way and my dark head of hair followed.
He muttered for a moment then said, “Who’s so tall they couldn’t see?”
“No. How’s the baseball on TV?” “Oh,” he said, still not answering. He was playing. But I guess he didn’t watch the baseball either. It was static in the background during his nap. My mind moved on. The grill smelled good, but I really just wanted to make s’mores.
He slouched on the wooden bench outside of the 24 hour laundromat two blocks from his house. A yellow light hanging by half of its cord dripped shadows on the highlights of the night that lagged reality. The undefined darkness was an insidious vacuum that siphoned the terrors from his forgotten dreams and brought them alive just beyond the edge of illumination. He scratched his beard, black and hooked like velcro, with uncut fingernails as he crossed his right foot over his left knee. The laundromat coughed hot air with each wash cycle, the machines spinning together in an eerie harmony that nulled the rest of night’s noise.
If there were people in this night, they would see a pair of eyes peaking from a black tuft of hair and they would think that it’s been too long since this guy on a bench last spoke to someone. Only a matter of days, but that’s a long time to not share a thought or comment on someone or something. Void – dark – lost were only the beginnings of his untold story. The true horror that haunted him still as he sat alone in front of the laundromat waiting for a month’s worth of laundry to finish.