Month: January 2009

Spring Semester: Week 2

Considering this is my last semester of law school, it seems only right to document some of it. I’m starting a week late, but that is kind of the theme thus far into the semester. Just this morning did I receive my last of five grades from last semester. Administrative Procedure was the holdout. When you think about it, the drop/add day has already passed. Technically, had I not passed Admin Pro I would have to stay an extra semester because it’s a required course. I’m sure exceptions could or would be made, but the point is that receiving grades this late is unacceptable.

Concerning my own snafus, I’m just now settling into my course schedule. I had to drop the mini-course, International and Comparative Copyright Law because it conflicted with Estate Planning for a grand total of 1.5 hours later on in the semester. I was told by the registrar that that was unacceptable. I switched to Federal Trademark and Copyright Registration, but later had to drop than when I discovered that Copyright Licensing does not fulfill the upper-level writing requirement I need. So, my final course load is as follows:

Environmental Law (EL)
Judicial Opinion Drafting (JOD)
Business Entities Taxation (BET)
Estate Planning (EP)
Copyright Licensing (CL)

Last semester I had it good. The grading of most of the classes in which I was enrolled was heavily weighted towards the final exam or project. I liked that because it simplified the semester. I wasn’t bothered with writing projects, oral presentations, and midterms. I could learn for four months and then regurgitate it on the page. And, no, I don’t think I crammed and then just forgot it all. It was a solid semester.

This semester is a different story. Despite my weeks concluding at 10am on Thursday and having 3.75 day weekends for the entire semester, my courses are absurd. Judicial Opinion Drafting involves writing three opinions and a 45 minute oral presentation where I am to lead class discussion regarding a justice or judge of my choice. Stop right there. That is enough to ruin my semester. Legal writing AND oral presentations. I seriously considered whether I really wanted to finish this whole “law school thing” when I saw that in the syllabus. Then there’s Copyright Licensing which is “simple,” yet it involves negotiating (read: talking).

I guess it’s finally time to face my fears. To open my mouth. To crack open my BlueBook (legal citation reference) if I can find it in storage. This is going to be a hectic semester, and I haven’t even complained about life decisions, bar applications, and searching for a job yet.

To do this weekend:

EL: Read about Eminent Domain and The Takings Clause
JOD: Read “How I write” law review articles and draft standard of reviews for a NH trial court.
BET: Review partnership taxation.

Fun stuff. K. Time to work. Bye.

Inauguration 2009

I watched from my little room on my old TV a great moment in history – the inauguration of Barack Obama as the 44th President of the United States of America. The prayer was inspiring. The music was moving. The swearing in was, well, a bit clumsy, but sincere nonetheless. A great start to a presidency with great potential.

All of this progress is good, however let us not forget the state of the union. Obama’s repeated sounding of, “Things will get worse before they get better,” still applies. We have a long and hard road ahead of us as a nation. The strength of Obama is the inspiration and goodness that will trickle-down from the President’s bully pulpit to individual Americans.

Let us not be fooled by the changing of the guard. While changing the name subsequent to “President” is significant, as I have often found in moving from one apartment to another, it doesn’t take long to find something wrong with the new place. And by the time my lease is up I can’t wait to move. I’m optimistic that Obama’s presidency will be different, but he has to do more than not be Bush.

God Bless America!

A Cold Walk at Night

It was late and the main street was silent and empty except for a young man walking with his hands in his pockets. His breath was gray under the yellow streetlights. When the wind rushed down the cross-streets between the red brick buildings the young man’s eyes watered. Rather than wiping away the tears he let them roll down his numb cheeks and freeze as they thinned. The smell of Indian food came with the wind and he breathed deep until his lungs hurt with cold. Then he exhaled and forgot the smell before it made him hungry. The red neon blush of Vinnie’s Pizza was ahead.

Behind, up the hill, the young man could see only the soft glow of town compared to the darkness left and right of it. The moon hovered big and low and shone with a brightness by which he could read the fragile ticking hands on his watch. 3:40 a.m. There was no traffic on the narrow road. The people who drive this road go to Church at 9am or have families to put to bed and spouses to comfort.

Another hour of walking and town was no longer visible. The woods on either side of the young man faded from dark gray dirt to the white moon. The trees in the foreground silhouetted against the gradient looked like massive black stakes thrust into the ground. The young man drew his arms tighter around his core. He flexed every muscle he could still control to ward off the cold, but could not stop shivering. He held his breath then exhaled down the collar of his coat. The warm air comforted him momentarily, but was replaced with dampness. He shuddered.

The young man wanted to walk until he felt nothing, and now he felt nothing but the biting cold. The feeling was not as calming as he had wished it to be. Instead, with town more than an hour behind him he felt everything. The wind blew hard and didn’t let up for several minutes. His teeth were clattering together now. His cheeks felt firm and it hurt to open his eyes.

As dawn approached he crossed the faded double-yellow line on the narrow road and started walking back towards town. Into traffic. There was no traffic at this hour. The people who drive this road are finishing their dreams and snoring.

The low skyline of town came clear in front of the rising sun. Walking uphill was hard on the young man’s knees. He was stiff and tired and didn’t want to walk any longer. Vinnie’s Pizza was dark. The wind had died. The cross-streets were calm. The young man would go straight home now. He wanted to be warm and to sleep until it was dark again.

Movie: Gran Torino

Clint Eastwood’s Gran Torino far exceeded my expectations, but it is difficult to pinpoint why. The acting of the supporting characters was often suspect, the story was predictable and simple, and the scenery was depressing. Overall it was a very plain movie about a lonely racist troubled old man who does all that he can not to befriend his Asian neighbors. Then he does.

But the takeaway of Gran Torino is obvious when I think about it. The flaws make the movie. Detroit is full of suspect characters that overshadow the good ones. Detroit’s reality is predictably desperate, broken, and and gritty. Every damn day. Detroit’s scenery is depressing.

Each of these things is Detroit for better or worse, and the movie captures that. Beyond that the tension in the movie stems from the duality between old and young men, well kept yards and broken down houses, Fords and Toyotas… learned and naive.

Advice to Myself

I posted this on a blog I wrote back in 2005 titled, “The Idle Hour.”

Sleep.
Don’t eat too healthy.
Sing in the shower.
Have fun, but work hard and don’t mix the two.
Raise your hand.
Ask questions.
Remember names.
Watch a TV show religiously.
Read books and magazines.
Stay clean.
Take a big risk from time to time.
Don’t forget how good home is.
Learn to depend on others, but don’t trust everyone.
Be moved by music.
Love someone.
Be foolish.
Don’t be fake.

Let’s see how I’m doing now, nearly four years later.

I rarely get the recommended amount of sleep, which, depending on source, varies. But I don’t feel tired and I seem to function well during the day.

I definitely don’t eat too healthy. Back when I wrote this I was downing about two burritos, four PopTarts, five cans of Diet Pepsi, countless cups of coffee, and a healthy amount of junk food – daily. Needless to say I gained a little weight. Not too much, but enough so that I didn’t fit into a pair of pants I bought in college. An odd feeling, but being young, it didn’t slow me down. I eat better now. I haven’t succumbed to the protein rich (enjoyment low) diets that some of my male friends endure for bigger muscles. (Really, how much muscle does it take to read and type!). It’s all about moderation.

I sign in the shower, but my true source of creative movement relief is dancing in the car while driving. Just give me XM channel 20 (Top 20 pop songs) and pump up the volume. I honestly think I might have some moves to show off that people would want to see. However, put me on the floor of a dance club and I will stand there frozen. I believe this is a comfort zone issue!

I have fun and I work hard. That’s pretty much how you have to approach law school if you want to survive.

I have not raised my hand enough in the past few years. It’s intimidating and often opens a can of worms. To my knowledge no one has died from raising their hand to date. I’m making a concerted effort to speak more in my classes this semester because my class sizes are smaller (six to 15 students) and the silence kills me.

Ask questions. Ditto.

I’m still horrible at remembering names. I need to work on this. I can meet someone, go through introductions, and then literally immediately forget what they said. It’s a “being present” issue, I believe. My mind is actually ahead of the moment in time thinking of something about which to converse. Definitely need to work on this.

I watch a lot of TV shows religulously. This has never been a problem and never will be. However, and this is a contradictory statement, TV is very take it or leave it for me. Not necessarily because I don’t care to see a show, but because there are so many ways to time shifting my shows.

I read a lot for school, which I don’t count as reading. Reading, for me, is more like reading something I got from Amazon or an actual bookstore. Reading, for me, is something of which I don’t do enough.

I’m clean. Except, now, I don’t like washing my jeans. Ever. It’s just not right to wash denim. Otherwise, I’m very clean and organized.

I don’t take enough big risks. This is partly tied to decisions. I need to develop a personalized approach to dealing with difficult problems more efficiently. Then take the risks without regret. I’m specifically thinking about the company I need to get off the ground with my sister. It’s been put off for too long.

Home is amazing. I have not forgotten. Nor will I ever. Traverse City is home. It’s both the same and very different every time I return. (This reminds me of the Benjamin Button quote.)

I think I have learned to depend on others. This line from above is my least favorite. It makes me seem like I was wronged at the time by someone or something. Perhaps I felt that way because of the chaos at work at the time. But honestly, no one has ever really ruined my trust in them. The best thing I can take out of this is, perhaps, that I need to develop a tougher skin.

I am more moved by music than ever before. I’m green, uninformed and at timed aloof to trends in music. However, it can be powerful, funny, fun, happy, rad, etc. You name it…

Love someone. Love someone. Love someone.

Someone close to me said recently that I’m too serious. It was seconded by another person. So, perhaps I have some work to do on being foolish, letting loose, and enjoying the present for what it is. I suppose my worrying negates any foolishness points gained by car dancing.

Don’t be fake. This is something that comes with age. Although I will say this. That the pressure to assimilate sways. As a teenager I wanted to fit in (to an extent – I was not desperate for attention). To be the same was not something that concerned me. I wanted to do well. To be good. Now, however, assimilation means, for example, not writing a blog entry that will hinder my job prospects should a prospective employer read it. I hate that. To me that is censorship of my expression. It is a harsh reality of the life I am currently in pursuit of. Somehow, there has to be a balance between not being fake and not screwing myself over. I’m not there yet, so mark this one down as still working.

I Will Forge On

The following quote by Clint Eastwood got me thinking about stuff that I’ve been thinking about more lately than before.

My father died very suddenly at sixty-three. Just dropped dead. For a long time afterward, I’d ask myself, Why didn’t I ask him to play golf more? Why didn’t I spend more time with him? But when you’re off trying to get the brass ring, you forget and overlook those little things. It gives you a certain amount of regret later on, but there’s nothing you can do about it. So you just forge on. (link)

I feel like this a lot lately. Not just with my father, but with my mother, sister, and friends. Even the dogs. Life passes so quickly that I often find it difficult to keep up. I wish there were 48 hours in each day so that I could call home more often, play an extra round of golf, or just shoot the shit with the people that mean the most to me.

We traveled a lot when I was a kid. We went to Disney World, out West on a train, skiing at Vail, and many other places. I see now, more than ever, how difficult it is (and how much more difficult it is becoming despite cell phones, skype, IM, etc.) to keep in touch – to get people together – to squeeze in a round of golf between school, work, travel, and whatever else occupies my time.

Grand plans are nice, but not required. Activities that were once trivial now create some of my most cherished memories. It is the short sunny hikes, silent hours on the couch, grabbing a quick beer, or riding into town that give me a chance to catch up. I rarely have much to say, but it’s nice just to be there. To be with family. To be around friends. It is in doing things with these people that I prove my lonely stubbornness wrong and find meaning in my life.

I do forge on, Clint. But I also wake up each morning wondering if I’m making enough of an effort. If I’m talking enough. If I’m doing enough. If I’m headed in the right direction. If… if… if… And these “ifs” will forever remain. There will seldom be definite answers. But I think that is okay because in the end I’ll have definite memories, too. I’ll forge on with my definite memories held closer than most other things I cherish. Those memories will comfort me that I did enough, and that although I could have done more, I am so fortunate to have the memories I do have.