tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36021347736257321372024-03-14T11:02:46.003-07:00Adventures in Law Schooldrishtihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13493946097553579137noreply@blogger.comBlogger140125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3602134773625732137.post-42208995820668247212014-01-30T14:21:00.002-08:002014-01-30T14:21:23.203-08:00I know, I knowSo I know that I promised you copious posts. I have woefully over promised. Thus my near two month hiatus.<br />
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Reasons are below, but believe me, I completely understand the underlying reason to be that I am a serial overcommitter with horrid time management skills and no follow through on things that are not required. So that thing.<br />
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<ol>
<li>Clinic case blew up</li>
<li>Had a billion things to do</li>
<li>Minor mental breakdown</li>
<li>Second minor mental breakdown</li>
<li>Left for winter break</li>
<li>Continued Clinic obligations DURING break</li>
<li>Returned and had to hit the ground running - thanks law school.</li>
<li>Suddenly decided that my health was a priority</li>
<li>Began teaching yoga again</li>
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So there ya have it. I've been horrendous about posting, though I really have no excuse. To make up for it, I give you this: the spiral of the 3L "I can't find a job" freak out.</div>
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It starts innocently enough. You're working, it's summertime and the weather's fine, and suddenly they appear. Reminders that you're not working at a firm, that you cannot expect a job offer at the end of this summer you're pouring all of your efforts into, that OCIs are again a thing and you NEED to get your lazy rear end in gear. But you have plenty of time. You'll spend a whole weekend carefully combing through postings and applying and polishing your cover letter, you tell yourself. Before you know it, there's a reminder email from career services announcing that OCI applications and bids close tomorrow at 9 AM. OH GOD OH GOD OH GOD. You firmly plant yourself in front of your laptop after work, drained, but realizing that all of that preparation you told yourself to do never happened. After two hours carefully researching each posting, and determining that there are only 10 employers seeking 3Ls, and only 6 of which you're even remotely qualified for, you scramble to throw together your application materials. You spend way, waaaaaayyy too much time at war with the technology that's supposed to make this whole process "easier," waiting for what seems an eternity while an ms word .doc converts to a .pdf. You look at the clock, which seems to have sped up of its own free will, and it's nearing midnight. You have work tomorrow, you can't stay up all night. WHY IN THE HELL DID I PROCRASTINATE?!? WHY DID I NOT LISTEN TO MY RATIONAL BRAIN? You berate yourself as you hurriedly and somewhat randomly assign bid preferences to the disappointingly low number of applications you were actually able to turn in. Exhausted, you hit the submit button at last. Never mind that you won't remember which applications you submitted come morning, you completed it, and that's all that matters. You drift off into a semi-self-satisfied slumber. </div>
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The next morning you don't remember which places you applied to, you don't remember if you changed the firm name in each cover letter, and you don't remember if you even liked the places you applied, but it doesn't matter. Now the waiting game begins. Feeling infinitely accomplished and adult, you permit yourself to enjoy the next few weeks as you wait. Then that fateful day comes - the employers have offered interviews. You got a decent number, given the not huge number of applications you submitted, and you're ok with that. Next up is the actual interviews. No matter how many times I go to interviews, I can never, never properly prepare for them. So, given that I'm writing this, your imaginary self is woefully unprepared. You march in to your first interview all suited up and raring to go (you had a TON of coffee to make sure you were awake and functional and perky). It is immediately awkward. You suddenly and unpleasantly understand your mistake in failing to adequately research firms. Within the first five minutes you know they're not going to offer you a job or even a second interview, and you're frankly grateful because dear god are these not your kind of people. As you FINALLY leave the room that seems all too small, the painful truth hits you - those were the longest 20 minutes of your ENTIRE life, and they cut it off ten minutes short. The rest are less stilted and infinitely more bearable, but ultimately nothing comes of them. You have now officially entered your final year of law school with no job prospects whatsoever. To be fair, you are a little relieved that you didn't get further along, start counting on a job, only to have them not choose you in the last round. That would suck. You apply to a few more things, always keeping an eye out for anything that might crop up for which you're qualified. There are alarmingly few. In a moment of utter panic, you start considering utterly insane possibilities - à la moving to [name a foreign country] and figuring it out when you get there.</div>
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Then you take a break from job applications for a while (because, let's be honest, you were clearly being a crazy person). Problem is...you take TOO long of a break. This creates yet another sequence of the stress of not seeing any jobs for which you're qualified creating more stress over not having a job which creates more stress over the fact that there really aren't that many which creates more stress over the fact that you don't have a job/job prospect...etc. You do the desperate, but necessary, thing. You ask your parents for help. They know people, after all, you assume. By magic (or magnets...science is still debating this), they obtain two "meetings" for you. You go to the first one. Seems to go alright. Just chatting over lunch with a family friend. But you make it awkward when you bring up the fact that you don't know where you want to work and your indecision has lead you to the utterly insane choice to take two bar exams (you might be a teensy bit masochistic). I mean, sure, you didn't say it like that, but both of you know why you're having that meeting - you need help finding a job. All in all, both meetings are pretty positive, but neither is a job offer. So there's that. </div>
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You near-obsessively track the career center's job postings. There are so many tantalizing opportunities for zero pay. The Constitutional Court of South Africa? I mean, really, how cool would that be? But, alas, you have no money. Earning negative money is not an option post-school time. Reality is a harsh mistress. After cycling through a shame spiral about the meager numbers of applications you've actually completed, you start applying to things. None of it is your dream job, but whose first job is? Against your nature, you become almost irritatingly practical. You start adjusting your spending habits. You start working out. You even start trying to look like an adult every day. Still nothing. This is when you go into another stress spiral. Horrible interviews haunt your dreams like wraiths just waiting to take you to the underworld of endless unemployment. In spite of this, or maybe because of this, you keep applying to things because SOMETHING has to work. It HAS to. All the while, in the back of your mind is that one person who graduated two years ahead of you, who passed the bar...and now works in the customer service industry for slightly higher than minimum wage, using all zero percent of their insanely expensive law school education. That, friends, becomes your nightmare. That is the one reason you press on, you keep applying to all of the jobs that you don't have a snowball's chance in hell of getting. </div>
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So, friends, that's what I've been doing...I'll let you know if my strategy of throwing everything at the wall and hoping something sticks works out. For now, I bid you adieu, I'm off to immerse myself in the intricacies of agency rulemaking procedures and how they relate to obsolete issues about railroad boxcars.</div>
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I do solemnly swear that I will, if it kills me, write several more times this quarter. So, until next time.</div>
drishtihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13493946097553579137noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3602134773625732137.post-18088795446729534422013-12-11T12:54:00.001-08:002013-12-11T12:54:30.485-08:00Why God Whyyyyy?Here we are. It's about an hour now since I finished my only actual exam this quarter, seven hours since I woke up, ten hours since I went to bed. And I have an hour until I have to be in the clinic office, two hours until my client meeting, three hours until we moot oral arguments. <div>
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Full system report: </div>
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I had a bagel with cream cheese from the cafeteria when I realized I had ten minutes before my exam. I'm working on only coffee number two of the day. I forgot to get Claritin D to combat my sinuses continual adverse reaction to any minor change in weather. Barely had time to shower. </div>
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Word to the wise - when you have a day like this, just avoid mirrors at all costs. I made the mistake of looking in one. Just momentarily. While washing my hands. It was more of a glance than a look. But my god. No way I'm looking in the mirror again today until after I shower, right before I crawl into bed, beneath a giant fuzzy blanket to temporarily silence the shrieking of the stress goblins in my brain.</div>
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Well, I have just successfully wasted almost 20 minutes writing this...because that's how slow my brain is moving. Don't worry, the americano I'm downing like it's the very nectar of the gods is slowly rewiring all of the brain circuitry. Back to the tiny tiny print, and my reading glasses, and my internal cursing of each and every single 1L and 2L for their horrid and unwelcome perkiness. If looks could kill, I tell you.</div>
drishtihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13493946097553579137noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3602134773625732137.post-26309658980026214202013-12-07T19:37:00.001-08:002013-12-07T19:37:59.107-08:003L year. Because I Suck at Posting.So, here it is, heading into the first round of finals for my 3L year. I know I've been out of touch, and for that I must apologize. Clinic took over my life, along with the general apathy and restlessness that the rest of the world knows as senioritis.<br />
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We're on day 2 of studying lockdown, and hour the third of actual studying. To be fair, I wasn't just screwing around before then, as you might expect. I found out yesterday that one of my clinic cases has a pleading due in four days....during my Criminal Procedure exam. So, I set to work. The past 48 hours have been a surreal, sleep deprived, stomach-clenchingly stressed out blur. I started writing a motion at noon yesterday. My partner and I had 15 pages by midnight. We spent all of today formatting, cleaning up citations. That is, until we discovered that we weren't entitled to the 12 pages we had the first go-round. Oh, no no. We had to get our justifications for why our motion shouldn't be straight up dismissed out in FIVE pages. Seriously, who the fuck can make any kind of persuasive and valid legal argument in five pages, when the first page is all but useless and you have six sections that are REQUIRED to be in the motion.<br />
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WHAT THE HELL ARE OUR COURTS THINKING?!?!? I get that no one wants to read 36 pages of pleadings plus the evidentiary support. No one gets that more than I do. I have previously failed to complete 11 page reading assignments, I truly empathize with your desire to do no more reading than is strictly necessary, but do you really want to read five pages that essentially regurgitate the same argument because there's no space for a new one? Yeah. Didn't think so.<br />
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Utter idiocy. Not to mention that I'm rapidly becoming disillusioned with the idea that lawyers working for the government actually do research. I mean, seriously, if you're gonna say an administrative rule is final, you had sure as hell fact check. No one who is an established attorney, and I mean NO ONE, wants to have some unpaid legal interns pointing out to the fucking court that they're just factually incorrect on a number of points. Especially when it says right out in the open, on the administration's website, that no final rule has been made. Get yo' facts straight.<br />
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Anyway, enough of that rant, and on to the next.<br />
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Our law school is a fairly new building. From the outside, and from all of the publicly accessible areas, it appears to be quite lush and modern. This, folks, is naught but visual trickery. A lot of the stuff was poorly thought out. One full side of the building, for example, is composed of GLASS. Great for when it is sunny outside, but cold; TERRIBLE FOR EVERY SINGLE OTHER TYPE OF WEATHER. It also makes interior temperature control a bitch.<br />
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And then we come to their most recent changes. They took away the (teeny tiny) offices of nearly every student organization, citing the need for additional faculty offices. There are next to no windows in the clinical law program office. AND they created this weird glass fishbowl space on the lower level of our bizarrely echo-y library to give students a space to congregate BECAUSE WE DON'T HAVE ANY OTHER SPACES. I don't know about you, but I'd love to have a functional space over a pretty space every time. Clearly the dream is to have a space that is both functional and pretty, but here they've sacrificed one in favor of the other. I don't get what they were thinking, nor do I wish to speculate as to why they've made the choices they have. All I know is that we have to live with those choices. I mean, I get that they wanted the library to look modern and bright. Totally get that. Love bright, modern spaces. The problem is that putting thin berber carpet on top of concrete in a large space with a lot of glass and metal means that EVERY SOUND ECHOES because there is no insulation. That, friends, is how to best describe the noise situation in our library.<br />
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To be fair, I'm only noticing this now because the noisiest woman in the history of the universe is sitting at the table I'm attempting to study at. Seriously. Dry coughing like every 5 minutes (lozenge....she should get one), and then giggling to herself for NO REASON. Oh, and every time she either decides to study something else or just needs a break she goes into EVERY BAG SHE BROUGHT WITH HER and makes an ungodly amount of noise in the process before scampering off to do whatever it is that extremely noisy people do.<br />
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All of this may be symptomatic of the sheer number of hours I've spent in this stupid building with all of these stressed out (yet also inconsiderate) people over the last three to four months. Then again, it could be my naturally curmudgeonly nature eeking through. Either way, that girl should either invest in some tea with honey, a lozenge, or die a fiery death.<br />
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Le sigh. Time to get back to crim pro. The stress knot in my stomach and the muddled atmosphere of my brain call me back to it. Trust me, there will be more stress posts in my near future - I have an obscene number of rants saved up.<br />
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OHMYGOD WHY IS EVERYONE COUGHING?!?!?!?!? I"M JUST GOING TO BRING A VAT OF TEA WITH HONEY AND DISTRIBUTE IT TO ALL OF YOU HACKING DISEASE BASKETS.drishtihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13493946097553579137noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3602134773625732137.post-40012099175431840522013-10-17T15:40:00.000-07:002013-10-17T15:40:52.191-07:00Run, baby, runSo, I definitely started a beginning of the year post, which I then proceeded to just never finish. My bad. I did also proceed to take a vacation the first weekend back, and then immediately get sick, so there's that too. I still have no idea why law school seems to do that to me.<br />
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Anyway, the third year is off to an inauspicious start. There were 4 classes, now there are 3, since my clinic this year is rather more time intensive than my one last year. ACTUAL CLIENTS THAT I HAVE TO MEET WITH, PEOPLE. Talk about social challenges. It is rather a different feeling to have to meet with clients in a clinical law program space that has no windows and feels somewhat more like an interrogation room than a nice "getting to know you" counseling space. Particularly when the clients you're meeting with are predominately young people who have already faced many challenges in their lives. It's also strange to suddenly be put in the place of a real person from whom someone is seeking advice. I mean, I know that theoretically we're supposed to be just about ready to be actual attorneys by now and that meeting with clients is something I should already be used to doing, but it is always always a bizarre feeling. The fact that both my clinic partner and I were sick on the first client meeting didn't help, I'm sure. I stuck with my usual solution: ALL THE CAFFEINE and ADVIL IN THE WORLD. It worked for a couple hours, but utterly tanked my ability to do anything all weekend.<br />
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This whole stupid fall transition isn't helping either. The weather is weird, and my immune system is clearly rebelling against the weird weather.<br />
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Enough (as the Brits put it) whinging. Words of wisdom: part of making it through law school is learning your limits and accepting those limitations. It has taken me an absurdly long time to learn that. And I'm still not good at it, but it's a huge thing to find that you CANNOT do everything. Even when that means disappointing someone. So far, this has allowed me to sleep hours like a normal person, do a little bit of yoga in the morning (even occasionally meditate!) and eat real people foods (as opposed to just coffee and a handful of almonds on the way out the door)! All good things. AND I even take vitamins now. Lord knows it hasn't helped me from getting sick, but I wasn't down for the count for a month, so improvement?drishtihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13493946097553579137noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3602134773625732137.post-81574495273912752892013-05-30T21:10:00.002-07:002013-05-30T21:10:44.246-07:00A Word on Studying In PublicYou get to hear people say all sorts of profoundly stupid things. Here's a small sampling of what I've heard in the last four minutes:<br />
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"Are they dixie cups or pixie cups? I get those mixed up." (Note: there is NO SUCH THING as a "pixie cup")<br />
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"So, we don't actually have a water cooler at work, we have this room." (Note: it's called a lunch room. It's common to basically every office environment since ever. Water coolers are not really a "thing" anymore.)<br />
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"Can you have wine?" (Asked of a girl who is presumably gluten intolerant. Note: there's no form of wheat and therefore no gluten in wine)<br />
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HOW ARE THESE PEOPLE EMPLOYED?????????drishtihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13493946097553579137noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3602134773625732137.post-50855349558337435532013-05-30T18:24:00.000-07:002013-05-30T18:24:55.017-07:00Crunch TimeWe've reached the point in time during finals week wherein my brain is half dead, I'm 98% sustained by various forms of caffeine, I haven't been home in almost 12 hours, and I'm bordering on counting down the minutes to the exam that I don't at all feel prepared for. On top of that there's this lovely phenomenon of writing papers for seminar classes. Which is EVEN better when you don't have explicit instructions for said papers. Seriously, none. I had a panic attack in the middle of writing my conclusion when I realized that my assumption that the paper should be 12 to 15 pages was potentially fallacious. I then contacted all of my classmates that I could reach and got back a tentative response that it wasn't a page count, but a word count. And the word count was way more than I had written. But I also had less than zero of an outline for my exam that is in a little over 18 hours. So, I'm damned if I do, damned if I don't. All of this is in spite of the fact that I actually started all of the things early this quarter. Tell me how that works?!? Seriously, inquiring minds want to know! I start early and am more behind than ever. I'm screwed. So, I'm at the bottom of the hole and I'm just going to keep on digging.<br />
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On the upside, I've made friends with my barista and waitress. I'm not sure if that's a good thing or if it says something questionable about the amount of time I spend sedentary in various establishments. Either way, I'm keeping the coffee industry, streaming music companies, and the maker of Post-Its and highlighters employed. Also, Word is the worst program for outlining, and if I had anything else I'd exchange it immediately.<br />
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And there ya go - this is what happens when you're sleep deprived, running on mostly caffeine, cramming for an exam and trying to finish two papers all at the same time. Tonight looks like no sleep for me! Sometimes law school makes me hate my life.drishtihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13493946097553579137noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3602134773625732137.post-35886655418742880022013-05-28T13:20:00.001-07:002013-05-28T13:20:15.488-07:00Second ThoughtsSo that whole "all the caffeine" tactic....might not be the best....part of my brain actually feels like it's vibrating to the beats of the music (that isn't on very loud)....that can't be normal or good. Word to the wise - switch between tea and coffee so as to avoid overloading your system. I didn't follow this sage advice.<br />
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Also, dog and/or cat cafes should exist in every city everywhere. Why are they only in Asia?!? Asia has the need for furry companionship on lock. Fix it, America. Fix it.drishtihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13493946097553579137noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3602134773625732137.post-30906132957596146772013-05-28T13:14:00.001-07:002013-05-28T13:14:26.176-07:00The DescentEither into madness, manic-ness, or general hermit-dom. Also known as compressed quarter finals period. It seems oh so far away until suddenly it occurs to you that you have 24 hours until your first exam begins and about 64 hours until your first paper is due. Enter freak-out zone. Sleep becomes a suggestion, caffeine a necessity. Every muscle from the middle of your spine to the top of your head is tied in innumerable knots, a perpetual headache from staring at a computer screen as you put together outlines and paper, transitioning somewhat haphazardly between them. An alternating soundtrack of your own panic, classical music, John Williams symphonies, Daft Punk and all kinds of lame pop music scores this descent into the bowels of hell that are more affectionately known as law school finals.<br />
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Somewhere along the way you begin deeply and profoundly resenting every person that takes up more than half a table (even though you're doing precisely that) and doesn't, for all you know, have a pressing exam that could determine their ability to do their summer job or graduate on time. You then slowly begin rethinking your life choices, craving a small, furry animal to cuddle with, and waxing nostalgic for the first year of law school (no joke, that part is a horrifying realization).<br />
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My solution to all of this (insomuch as there is any solution whatsoever) is to drink all the caffeine (but match it with equal amounts of water), suddenly become religious about taking all of the vitamins and dietary supplements, suddenly start more or less living in various coffee shops, stress clean, and (for no apparent reason whatsoever) stop eating meat. This basically means that I live on probably unhealthy amounts of caffeine, a lot of grilled veggie related things, in work out clothes, and with an ever present bottle of advil. I'm not sure if any of this can be qualified as "winning", but it's keeping me from totally losing it, and will hopefully ensure effective condensing and cramming of material into my brain. However, I'm starting to feel like I might go crosseyed from looking at screens and might start floating away based on the sheer volume of liquid I've been consuming. It's truly disconcerting.<br />
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That's all I've got for now - my goal is to have more than a page of outline for every hour I've been working on this stupid class. And then I get to work on two papers, and then another outline that I haven't touched yet. Condensed quarter = dumb dumb dumb dumb dumb.drishtihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13493946097553579137noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3602134773625732137.post-6886558665572337792013-05-22T11:24:00.001-07:002013-05-22T11:24:33.170-07:00Stupid Traitorous BodyThis week marks the last "week" (read: four days) of classes. We then essentially have three days until finals begin. Gross.<br />
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To make matters worse, the weather is mirroring my mood, which then wreaks havoc with my stupid overly sensitive sinuses. So, I've had a rocking headache for two days straight. You'd think it'd get better with advil and whatever...it doesn't really. Screw you, weather. And screw you, condensed quarter.<br />
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I'm gonna continue running (read: not actually running) around like a chicken with my head cut off. Also, as much as I adore procrastibaking, I'm now unfortunately sick of cooking for people, mostly as a result of needing to then clean up after baking and cooking. UGH.drishtihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13493946097553579137noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3602134773625732137.post-14524226674564784812013-05-09T11:42:00.000-07:002013-05-09T11:42:23.250-07:00On PopsiclesReal talk, people, don't fudgesicles look like poops on a stick? They do, right? So, why do they taste SO GOOD??!?! As we enter the season of sunshine and popsicles, these will become ever more present, mostly for chocoholics. I propose a new era! Oreo cookies and cream sicles!!! More appetizing to look at, and just as tasty. Try it instead. Ban poosicles from your field of vision!drishtihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13493946097553579137noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3602134773625732137.post-13220013057227905642013-05-09T10:11:00.000-07:002013-05-09T10:11:04.023-07:00Being Sick is The Worst.So, after my weekend battle with mild food poisoning, I managed to somehow get sick on Monday night. I'm talking the works - fever, chills, aches, complete and utter nausea. No idea what was wrong with me. It took until Tuesday night until the fever to break. I keep forcing myself to eat, despite the fact that it makes me completely nauseated for hours. Which, frankly, is terrible, because all I want is some truffle garlic fries, a really good cheeseburger, and some carrot cake. Honestly, one of the world's most perfect meals. Except the thought of it, at the moment, makes me feel like I'm going to throw up. That could also be the fact that I'm currently eating. My body is not ok with any of this. Fml.<br />
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In law school, particularly when the pressure is on, particularly during a compressed quarter, you push yourself to keep going. Unfortunately, the human body doesn't seem to quite understand the push to stay absolutely healthy, not sleep a lot, and get very little exercise for a solid 2.5 months straight. And mine chose now to give up. A mere two weeks from the end of class/start of finals. DUMB. As is always the case, our bodies fail us when it is MOST inconvenient. Not when we have time to laze around and get well, but when we have a ton of things to do and no time to sleep 14 hours a day.<br />
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On a separate note: thank god for the advent of delivery food and netflix. I watched a bunch of trashy tv, from the comfort of my bed, and got soup and sprite delivered to me. That part was glorious, until the nausea set in again.drishtihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13493946097553579137noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3602134773625732137.post-5499697115575727072013-05-09T09:18:00.001-07:002013-05-09T09:18:22.085-07:00LET THERE BE SLOTHSI saw a video a little over a week ago that was one of the most terrifying/precious things I've ever seen. It's basically a six minute long video of a sloth hugging a housecat. During the first part, it almost looks like the sloth is near-strangling the cat, and then it gets cute and weird all in one. The sloth starts scratching the cat's head - much to the cat's delight - and then licks its ear. You heard me. The sloth licks the cat's ear. Creepy. But kind of cute. I'll include it below for your enjoyment.<br />
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Anyway, that incredibly long lead up is for my friend's birthday! Which shall be celebrated with the unveiling of a BABY SLOTH BEAR! So much winning!<br />
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UPDATE: I got potential food poisoning on Thursday night, it continued through all of Friday, spent Saturday recovering rather than seeing the baby sloth bear. It was sad. Upside? I got to eat tons of crawfish on Sunday, and then have a few margaritas with friends to celebrate Cinco de Mayo.<br />
<br />drishtihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13493946097553579137noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3602134773625732137.post-57432958472834591862013-05-09T09:14:00.001-07:002013-05-09T09:14:58.782-07:00Law Prom!Every year, literally hundreds of law schools around the country partake in an event known colloquially as "law prom." In reality it is the annual law school gala; an excuse for law students to get dressed up, cut loose and take ridiculous pictures.<br />
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Now to fully paint the picture (albeit way way later than I planned on writing this, due to a series of things), you have to understand that it is an absolute headache to find a place that our law school is even allowed to hold events anymore. We got kicked out of the venue an hour and a half early last year and the years prior, going back god knows how long. The reason? Someone got sloppy and literally punched a bartender. Dumb. So dumb. Supposedly we're adults and should be able to handle ourselves with only TWO drink tickets, right? Apparently not. To the relief of everyone involved, that did not happen this year. Was it because it was held several hours earlier and ended at 10 PM? Was it because the venue was upscale? Was it because stairs were involved? Who knows. It may have been the promise of an afterparty, along with the three drink tickets. Again, who knows. There was food, there were drinks (mine were all champagne). The food being quite good helped as well, I'm sure. The venue was actually really cool. Apparently it's a venue where they train and offer job placement to homeless and at-risk men, women, and youths. So, really, not only was it awesome, but they also do awesome social work, completely in keeping with our school's purported mission.<br />
<br />
Unfortunately, the venue for the afterparty screwed up big time. Through no fault of the wonderful lady that organized everything, the venue not only decided to cut our reservation by 290 people (yeah, you read that right) without consulting anyone, but also proceeded to allow other people into the reserved section (as in quadruple booked the tables), and to try to turn away the members of our group at the door. It was re.dic.u.lous. The only way I could properly convey all of our frustration was to split up the word that way. 99.99% of us left almost immediately after getting in (FINALLY...it took an hour, if you were near the front of the line). Those that stayed for more than 10 minutes in that god-awfully run place were severely disillusioned by the experience. We all moved on to other places eventually, and were much happier for it.<br />
<br />
My friends and I cabbed home (my home), and two of them crashed on my couch (don't worry, one couch pulls out into a comfy twin-sized bed). When we finally roused ourselves the following morning, I only got up to lock the door behind my pals, and then crashed again for like three hours.<br />
<br />
My day of only excellent life choices following this late, exhausting, but lovely evening only continued after sleeping in rather late. I got up, drove to get Hawaiian food and a smoothie, and then proceeded to watch a bunch of Doctor Who. All excellent life choices.drishtihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13493946097553579137noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3602134773625732137.post-23062875128611850752013-05-02T13:40:00.000-07:002013-05-02T13:40:03.634-07:00Eeep!I've been a bad blogger. Apparently took a mental vacation, while subjecting my actual person and mental capacities to the ravages of a compressed quarter (which, for the record, is hands down the absolute worst idea anyone in the history of ever has had). I'll attempt to catch you up on things as best I'm able, but don't hate me if I really can't remember all the things - I'm still trying to cram all of Federal Indian Law into my brain, it is the equivalent of taking Fed Courts, but worse. Believe you me, rather than just asking the questions about is it criminal or civil, state or federal, you also have to add in the maze of criminal jurisdiction relating to tribes, and whether or not they're tribes covered by PL 280. For those of you who don't know what all that means, just be grateful.<br />
<br />
Anyway, the highlights: law prom, law prom afterparty, my friend taking on immigration court like a BOSS, the glorious return of sunshine, and summer wine on the roof.<br />
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Law prom and the afterparty shall be covered in a separate entry (that I swear I started last week, but just never finished because I was trying to be a good student).<br />
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The glorious return of sunshine, and the breaking of Spring. Sunshine during this hellish two months is the most distracting thing I've ever encountered. Even worse when it's combined with relatively balmy temperatures that allow for the wearing of dresses and skirts. It's something akin to waving one of those sparkly feathery doodads in front of a kitten, and then expecting them to just sit there silently and learn how to shake paws. That bad. It's been (mostly) glorious outside, and even (dare I say it?) warm at times. Therefore, being stuck indoors (where the internets are) to work on god knows what (because there are literally an innumerable amount of things that I can/should be doing) is something akin to the kind of torture where they leave the lights on so that you can't sleep for days. I don't know what that's called, but that. Oh, which reminds me, the downside to being in the upper latitudes when we edge toward the summer solstice is that the freaking sun shines through the windows by 5:45 AM. Upside, I'm WIDE AWAKE at about 6:45. Downside, I don't always need to be awake that early, and can often use more sleep. It also doesn't get dark outside until almost 8 PM. So, color my circadian rhythms bass-ackwards. (As if they weren't already.) All of this on top of a compressed quarter is that ALL the learning and writing and whatever else is crammed into 8 weeks. EIGHT. That's it. From beginning to end. Terrifying, no? All I have to say is - here goes nothing.<br />
<br />
This has lead to, however, a gratuitous use of my building's rooftop deck, limited as it may be. Which is lovely after a LONG day trapped within this cemetery of dreams. What makes it even lovelier is that I get to pass the time amongst company comprised of comrades (see what I did there with that alliteration?). And that my friend introduced me to a glorious Spanish creation whose name (which I'm not even going to try to spell because I'd massacre it) translates loosely to summer wine. The recipe is at the end of this post. Bubbly, light, and refreshing. NOT sangria. (Because the two could conceivably be confused) The hilarious and brilliant woman who brings you this drink (note: NOT ME) is also doing a pretty bad ass interview today and managed to get ICE to stipulate to dismissing her clinic client's case without uttering a single word. Because she's just. that. good. Go ahead and try to tell me you're not impressed. You can't. You just can't. So, fingers crossed for this force to be reckoned with, because if anyone is going to take the law by the horns and wrestle injustices to the ground, it'll be her.<br />
<br />
I've also determined that taking an all hippie quarter was both the best and worst idea I've ever had. Despite the fact that I only have one final and that I now know I will have enough credits to graduate early. To which my lovely mother's response was, "Does that mean you'll have time to just travel anywhere in the world for like two weeks?" The answer to that question is always yes, for the record. If you say no to that question you're either (a) a cyborg, (b) have no soul (could go hand in hand with a), or (c) an agoraphobe.<br />
<br />
In other semi-relevant news, I'm likely to soon be a member of the Student Bar Association. And I'm in another clinic for next year. Yay? There goes any notion that I was going to see free time again. Womp Womp.drishtihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13493946097553579137noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3602134773625732137.post-55931549961666089432013-04-17T15:26:00.001-07:002013-04-17T15:26:46.625-07:00Bits of Sanity, Like So Many StreamersGo a-floating away in the breeze. I say breeze because the a/c is on and I'm inside. The day began at 6 AM when I went to finish off my reading and send in discussion questions. Because obviously that's what you do at 6 AM (evidently, exercise is for the weak. Contradictory, I know.). However, the problem with doing that is that you're completely burnt out by about 1:30 PM. And then you top that suck salad off with a small helping of "I scheduled my dinner reservations too close to my last class" and you decide that, screw it, you're done for the day.<br />
<br />
I have, however, discovered a new source of entertainment and joy. This would be the world of online dating....on behalf of another person. Because people who are no good at writing things obviously need a future lawyer to take over. Particularly one who writes in, as my friend called it, an "anti-grammatical" style. I prefer to think of it as my speech idiosyncrasies oozing over and infecting my writing. You'll all be grateful to know that I scrub my text of all idiosyncrasies when writing actual legal documents, papers, emails, and law review articles. Apparently I'm abusive with the use of parenthesis, commas, and all manner of ellipses. (Oxford comma style!) But, evidently that is also charming to some, so suck on that, grammar!<br />
<br />
<br />
Aaaaaannnnndddd, then my brain shut down and decided that it's time to be done with things.<br />
<br />drishtihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13493946097553579137noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3602134773625732137.post-5858222899090854232013-04-16T17:33:00.003-07:002013-04-16T17:33:48.138-07:00On Law School Dating (cont'd)So, what I failed to mention in my last post, or, rather, failed to fully flesh out for all of y'all is the phenomenon of "lawcest." Now lawcest is exactly what it sounds like: dating and/or hooking up with another law student; thus, law school incest = lawcest. There are gradations according to the severity of the offense. They are as follows:<br />
<br />
<b>The worst offenders</b> -<br />
Serial law school daters. These are the people who either have dated every single other single person in your small section, or even the law school at large. There's at least one in every law school. No exceptions. If you can't think of anyone, and you're single, it might be you. These people were likely the type of person who had gigantic public breakups in high school. They may still carry on this less than proud tradition. Alternatively, people who conduct less-than-subtle trysts with fellow law students. These may not rise quite to the level of a "relationship," and therefore do not qualify them as "serial daters," but that doesn't make them any less bad. They get sloppy at events and may have made out with every eligible person in their small section (during the first year) or even the whole law school (after the first year).<br />
Now, I'm not going to make excuses here, but to a certain extent, if you're single and disinclined to do online dating, get set up, and/or get repeatedly hit on in bars, this is unavoidable at a certain point. We get it, but it doesn't mean we have to like it.<br />
<br />
<b>Less bad</b> -<br />
<br />
Sloppy hook ups. Bound to happen sooner or later. There will be some event or you'll be out after exams and blowing off some steam (seriously, the world will just seem brighter after exams), and inevitably you will decide that the world is far less terrible than you'd imagined during your grueling hours in the lawbrary. In the blink of an eye, you'll go from casually conversing with that sort-of attractive classmate to either a full-on make out session (high school style), or you'll be walking out the door hand in hand. It's entirely possible that no one will notice. Sometimes this happens when the entire room is too schlitzed to know the difference. The rule of thumb, however, is that someone will always notice. You'll do the walk of shame the next day (well, one of you will), and it will either gradually evolve into dating (like an adult!), or there will be a few more sloppy hook ups with the same person, or that will be that and you'll both move on.<br />
If you're not one of the ones taking part in any sloppy hook ups during law school, it will be profoundly irritating to you that people do this in public. When you see one in progress you will immediately question all of your life choices, and then walk your tired butt home. In the immortal words of Danny Glover, you will tell yourself that "I'm getting too old for this shit." The embarrassment will fade, and you will either re-offend or you'll conduct yourself respectably.<br />
<br />
NOTE: Less bad gets IMMEDIATELY upgraded to "the worst" if you have loud fights, disrupt traveling teams or clinics of any type, or if you leave a trail of trampled colleagues' feelings along the way.<br />
<br />
<b>Least bad - </b><br />
<b><br /></b>
Law school couple. These are the ones that find each other at some point during the 3 years in which you are all roped together like a herd of cattle in a single building for incalculable hours a week. They will either handle this maturely or immaturely. The mature ones start seeing each other on the DL and it slowly evolves to a point where people suddenly realize that they're together. There's also the mature varietal that crops up over night - friends since nearly the beginning and then suddenly they take the plunge and are revoltingly happy. There's also the couples that meet day 1 and stick it out for all three years. These are likely to end up in long-term relationships. So long as they're not all over each other in the hallways/generally in public, it's perfectly acceptable. All relationships have their ups and downs, so, as long as it's not being publicized to the entire school in a truly stomach turning manner, you're a-ok. (I really can't be too judgy here, I'm guilty.)<br />
The immature couples are on par with "sloppy hook ups." They will disrupt things, strangers will know too many details about their personal lives, and their eventual break up will be a peace-shattering, polarizing event. Basically, too much feelings, and gross, and do not want.<br />
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<b>The best - </b><br />
<b><br /></b>
You've heard the myth that they exist, and indeed they do! Law students in healthy, functional relationships with non-law school people. These usually result in marriage (if not already married entering law school). I applaud them. They are functional adults. Many of them bring their wonderful spouses to hang with the law students. Some have awesome children. Some have pets that function as children. These people win. All the win. This, however, is not lawcest. Unless you have two law students that are married to each other. In which case, holy crap you're not human.<br />
<br />
<br />
I've been meaning to post this for at least a week, but I had many things to attend to. Sorry loves!drishtihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13493946097553579137noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3602134773625732137.post-82538344976377955542013-04-16T17:08:00.002-07:002013-04-16T17:08:41.765-07:00Thoughts on CensorshipNow, I know censorship is an unpopular idea. Perhaps one of the most unpopular of the unpopular ideas. Being a law student, most censorship insinuates a violation of free speech, and of liberty. But is all censorship bad? I ask this as a serious question, and it's one I'm not sure there is a good answer to. Honestly, we talked a little bit about it in my Human Rights class today, and even under the UN Convention on Civil & Political Rights the answer is unclear. In the wake of the Boston bombings, the answer has become less clear to me. Maybe it's because people, in this overly connected age of ours, feel the need to share every thought as it occurs to them, rather than processing first. Who knows. What I do know is that I feel conflicted on the topic. As an American, I believe in the right to free speech. And on its face, censorship is revolting. Repugnant, even. But then you see and hear some of the horrid, disrespectful, and downright insensitive things that people have to say, and you start wondering - in an age with no sense of social propriety (or so it would seem), would a little censorship be so bad? Is it right for people to so hastily and haphazardly process events for others, be their interpretation correct or no? Is it right for other people to tell you how to feel or how to think? I think not. I mean, I think for the most part that people agree that everyone should think for themselves, but I guess my question really is this: after something major happens, can we all just keep our damned opinions to ourselves for 24 hours? Hell, even a single hour? And to the newsmedia, I pose the following question: at what point did you realize that you stopped producing actual news? Did your soul die a little when you realized that you no longer do any of the things that got you into the business in the first place? It's cool if it didn't - sometimes we all do stuff for the money; if I were you though, my soul would have died a little. I know that's not all your fault - you're beholden to ratings and readership, so you print and report what sells. And what sells is what gets people's blood boiling. And that's a little sad.<br />
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What I think has been really lost here, though, is the ability for modern society to censor itself. I'm not saying the government should step in, and I'm not saying that mom and dad should tell you what is ok or not ok to say. What I am saying is that we've lost the ability to self-regulate. Case in point, perhaps, is this blog. Food for thought.<br />
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(SEE? I DO POST INTELLECTUAL STUFF EVERY NOW AND THEN!....mostly that was me yelling at me for the largely senseless drivel I post)drishtihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13493946097553579137noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3602134773625732137.post-77613868286666074452013-04-16T16:29:00.004-07:002013-04-16T16:45:18.866-07:00DesecratedShocking, to say the least; utterly devastating, to say the most. The events of the last 36 hours (for those of you who don't know to what I am referring, google "boston marathon 2013") have deeply saddened at least one country, if not the world. The tragedy of those minutes that seemed like hours is almost unspeakable; to target such a celebration of life and such an outpouring of joy is unforgivable.<br />
<br />
Now, this particular tragedy is close to me, since I lived in Boston for a number of years, and used to work about three blocks from where the first explosion occurred. I still have a number of friends who live and work in the city - some of whom attended the marathon yesterday. While I can't begin to fathom the kind of monster who finds blowing off limbs for no apparent reason either acceptable or even palatable, the violence of it is only part of what gets me. The only thing I can even compare the other part of what I'm feeling to is what people probably felt during the 1996 Centennial Park bombing at the Atlanta Olympics. The feeling that something near sacred to you, with the existence of a single event holding such intrinsic value and heritage that it hurts to imagine it being something other than what it is.<br />
<br />
What "Marathon Monday" or Patriots day was, at least to the multiple thousands of college students and residents in the Boston area, was a celebration of life, an outpouring of joy, international cooperation, and the good in humanity. I suppose you could say much the same of any major sporting event, but think about this for a second - Boston dedicated a whole day to it. Every year. After living there, I can tell you - the city literally grinds to a halt. I'm pretty sure that the only places doing a high volume of business were liquor stores, Dunkin' Donuts, and 7-11. There were college students lining the streets from near dawn to the end of the race, cheering, holding signs, and more often holding booze. Kids on their dad's or mom's shoulders downtown thinking that one day they'd be as fast as the marathoners. And after the last person crossed the finish line, the city erupted into a party. A celebration of the fact that, no matter how long it took, everyone crossed the finish line - after 26.2 miles, quite the accomplishment! I don't think I ever saw anyone angry on Marathon Monday. And, despite the public drinking (which, strictly speaking, was blatantly illegal), I never personally saw any arrests or skirmishes.<br />
<br />
To me, now being geographically far from Boston, the mere fact that this happened at all was a desecration of a sacred memory. For everyone that has left Boston, one angry and militant action, much like one drop of blood in a bucket of water, has poisoned the tradition, the pride, the celebration. I'm even more offended that people got seriously injured. A graduate student died. An eight-year-old died. And a woman who left her job to take care of her sick grandmother died. Those that know me, really know me, know that I don't really do tears or feelings, so they'll get how much this means when I say the pictures and the news reports legitimately make me tear up. It also sickens me that a member of the human race is capable of carrying out such carnage.<br />
<br />
<br />
To the people who have started speculating that it's a conspiracy, whatever, freedom of speech. My only question is this: how would YOU feel if someone you loved just got maimed by some psychotic, terrifying event and all a bunch of people could talk about was that it was a "fake flag" operation? Personally, I'd feel like I'd been violated. Frankly, I do feel that way. You have every right to think and say those things, but for the love of humanity and for the sake of not furthering the paranoia, fear, and hurt that the bombs themselves caused, please don't put them where grieving people will look. Better yet, and I know this is asking a lot (but it is just a request), keep it to yourself and give people time to process things. Who knows, maybe some of them will end up agreeing with you, but at this point in time it is (a) inappropriate, and (b) puts you (in my mind) on par with sexual predators. That might be taking it kind of far, but that's how I feel about it. I feel violated that you took something so tragic, so horrifying, and pounced on the opportunity to make your message heard BEFORE the people physically and emotionally affected by it even had time to process what had happened. Having experienced the death of a loved one, I can tell you that the most disrespectful and inhumane thing to do is to use SOMEONE ELSE'S tragedy to further your own ends. So, really, just shut your face. Or Twitter, or whatever.<br />
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That all being said, Bostonians are some of the most resilient people I've ever met, and are incredibly giving and kind, as the news reports have proven. You all are in my thoughts and in my heart. I may no longer live there, but when I left, I left a little piece of my heart in Boston. And to my friends there, I'm so glad I know you're all safe. Now, just keep each other safe.<br />
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<br />drishtihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13493946097553579137noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3602134773625732137.post-3439863806413730662013-04-11T10:16:00.001-07:002013-04-11T10:16:09.241-07:00Ah, Facebook!We all, by now, are well familiar with the pervasive technological pestilence that is Facebook. We're all guilty. We're all (more or less) addicted. Let it be. I cannot, however, speak highly enough about being utterly paranoid and making your security settings as high as it is possible to go. Everything you put on facebook is public information. Just let that sink in for a minute. EVERYTHING. Once your pictures are on there, you no longer own the rights to them. Same goes for videos, music, and any other content.<br />
<br />
Now, being a person who hopes to be full-time employed one day, I'm hyper paranoid. There are ALL the security settings on my account. Including a fun feature that requires me to enter a randomly generated code every time I log in from a new device. Irritating? Yes. Preventing weirdos from hacking my account? Absolutely. I also get automatic email notifications regarding every change to my account. Again, I do these things because I'm mildly paranoid, particularly having learned about the shoddy and basically nonexistent state of US internet privacy policy. Yeah, that's right, I said it (and, yes, I do understand that a particularly intelligent computery person could totally track down my identity from this blog...but it sounds like a lot of work).<br />
<br />
Anyway, the point is that I have never been more pleased with my choice to be paranoid. Just half an hour ago, I got email notifications (SIX of them, to be exact) that I had requested to change my password. I did no such thing. I was happily logged into my account, sitting in Federal Indian Law. (What? It's totally a thing. Look it up. Also, I heart this professor. Also, it's basically a version of Fed Courts that actually makes sense, so go cry about your life choices to take the insanely hard class.) I notified facebook of each and every attempt. There hasn't been another. But, rest assured, there WILL be updates if it happens again. I then proceeded to deauthorize every single account that I didn't have personal control of. This is a reminder to all of you. Check how many devices you have authorized, deauthorize a few, and then up your security settings.drishtihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13493946097553579137noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3602134773625732137.post-91338521899332096092013-04-09T13:43:00.000-07:002013-04-09T13:43:54.640-07:00PhenomenaThings that have happened in the week since this particular term began:<br />
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I've determined that it isn't hugely important to read for my Human Rights class, but is absolutely imperative for every. single. other. class.<br />
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I've contracted i deep-seated desire to DIY things, despite both my lack of time and minimal skill.<br />
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Evernote might be both the best and worst program to ever enter my life. I've already started accumulating recipes. I might have a problem.<br />
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THERE IS A WAY TO DIY YOUR OWN IN-N-OUT BURGER. That was an earth shattering one. It's also way more involved than you would think.<br />
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Buzzfeed is a weirdly appropriate place for me to spend inappropriate amounts of time and indulge my slightly OCD side.drishtihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13493946097553579137noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3602134773625732137.post-73422591042836459482013-04-08T12:21:00.001-07:002013-04-08T12:21:10.192-07:00Journal Pros and ConsPros:<br />
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<ul>
<li>Prestige</li>
<li>An office</li>
<li>Free Food</li>
<li>Friends</li>
<li>Parties</li>
<li>Working with practitioners and faculty</li>
<li>You get to be an editor of things</li>
<li>Helps with getting a job</li>
<li>Makes you look like a successful adult</li>
</ul>
<br /><br />
Cons:<br />
<br />
<ul>
<li>Additional demands on your time</li>
<li>Other journals will try to make you sound less prestigious</li>
<li>You HAVE to write a comment</li>
<li>You get shamed for not wanting to publish</li>
<li>You're still just PRETENDING to be a successful adult</li>
<li>Tight deadlines</li>
<li>Work you get to do in your "free" time</li>
<li>Uncomfortable familiarity with the bluebook</li>
</ul>
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<br /></div>
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Take it or leave it.</div>
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Bonus, here's a badass quote from the Iron Lady herself.</div>
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drishtihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13493946097553579137noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3602134773625732137.post-49665577232074178442013-04-08T12:14:00.000-07:002013-04-08T12:14:06.499-07:00On Law School DatingI've mentioned this before, but for many, law school is the destroyer of worlds in terms of dating. In some ways it falls along the lines of dating in college, just much MUCH worse.<br />
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In undergrad you're getting your footing as an adult. If you head off with a high school sweetheart in tow, it either ends in marriage (or some commitment along those lines) or it ends in some sort of fiery explosion of epic proportions and you end up wishing the other person dies in an inferno. Now, kindly remember the level of stress you experienced in undergrad....or total lack thereof. Now multiply that by at least ten. Or more, if the ABA is to be believed: <a href="http://www.abajournal.com/news/article/a_marketing_prof_tries_law_school_encounters_stress_level_that_is_scarily_h">http://www.abajournal.com/news/article/a_marketing_prof_tries_law_school_encounters_stress_level_that_is_scarily_h</a>. Combine that level of stress (and believe you me that it is nearly constant) along with the sheer volume of work, the requirements that you network (no matter how bad at it you are), and just generally be some semblance of a functional human, and it's just bad news bears for your love life usually.<br />
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I know multiple people who have gone through several relationships in the last two years. Some came into law school with a long-term significant other, others found someone along the way, most ended in a fiery inferno of disaster. Simple truth: people your dating actually want to see you every now and then, and when they see you, they want you to do things other than stare like a zombie at the TV, drink a bottle of wine and then pass out for 12 hours. The problem is, for most law students (note that I said MOST, not ALL), that sounds like a damn relaxing and wonderful weekend night. You'd think that then the obvious choice would be to date someone IN law school so that they understand all the demands on your time - Not generally an excellent solution. You will see this person almost on the daily; you're competing with them for professors' attention, grades, and jobs; at some point they might be your arch nemesis; you will almost certainly annoy the ever-living crap out of each other at some point. Most law students aren't great at seeing to their own hierarchy of needs and those are the ones they're constantly immersed in, so to ask them to consider a second human being is the most utterly ridiculous of propositions. To be fair, this isn't always the case - there's an exception to every rule, BUT do not make the naïve and slightly idiotic mistake of thinking that you're the exception from the get go.<br />
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The counterpoint to breakup infernos of epic proportions are people that get married and have kids during law school. More power to them; it's not a reaction I entirely understand. Frankly, that could be a sign of their maturity, and my lack thereof, but that's the other extreme. Notice that I haven't mentioned some lovely middle ground. That's because it's all but nonexistent. It's like the Protestant concept of heaven and hell - there is no purgatory. Now, what all of this drives us of the non-marriage persuasion to do is this: become serial daters. Good strategy for maintaining sanity in law school? Not even slightly. Inevitably, breakups happen to serial daters at the WORST POSSIBLE TIMES. As in when your entire life has tossed itself off a cliff and is rapidly hurtling toward the bottom of an endless toilet bowl.<br />
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Bottom line: unless you're with someone that has the patience of a saint and is infinitely understanding, law school will either explode your relationship in fantastical fashion, or you'll be married in no time (despite living in the shadow of crippling debt).<br />
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My advice on pursuing that blossoming relationship as you enter law school?<br />
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Take it from Ms. Margaret Thatcher, people.drishtihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13493946097553579137noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3602134773625732137.post-87491216295710550332013-04-08T11:58:00.001-07:002013-04-08T11:58:30.248-07:00Repeated RealizationsMostly this:<br />
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So, there ya have it. Truth bomb.drishtihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13493946097553579137noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3602134773625732137.post-14733995680180591862013-04-04T11:05:00.000-07:002013-04-04T11:05:23.586-07:00What the....While diligently taking notes on human rights, my eyes did happen upon possibly one of the dumbest company names ever. I do mean EVER. "Staff me up" So, basically, not only can the person who created this not speak english properly, not know any semblance of proper grammar, but also likes to sound like they're serving Staph infections to all of the people. Seriously? Did all of your PR/Marketing people just fall into this job after having a trust fund and never listening to themselves speak? Because, really, that sounds disgusting. I can only hope that it's not a catering staffing company....because gross.drishtihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13493946097553579137noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3602134773625732137.post-14560189319741563092013-04-04T09:20:00.000-07:002013-04-04T09:20:22.543-07:00I've Made a Huge MistakeYou may or may not have noticed by this point that I am a procrastinator. Possibly the Queen of procrastinators...as evidenced by the fact that I'm sitting in class and writing this. Winning? Or not. Whatever.<br />
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The point is that I've been telling you all of these wonderful things about my professors this quarter, and that is all true enough. Wonderful, they are. The problem is this: I have between 100 and 300 pages of reading to do PER NIGHT. On top of journal work, clinic work, trying to get my life together, and trying to be some semblance of an adult. I'm good at all of none of this. My solution: blog about your fails to finish your insane amounts of reading. Totally makes sense, right?<br />
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On the upside, my gloriously wonderful professor spent the first hour of class on less than 10 pages of reading. That would be the reading that I did. Reason #457 why this man is an excellent professor. Yesterday we got to talk about our favorite science memories in my seminar class. Love. Also, so much story time.<br />
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But, with respect to the sheer amount of reading that I am supposed to be doing on the daily, I've made a huge mistake. And I need more highlighters. ALL THE HIGHLIGHTERS. I'm starting a highlighter graveyard in my backpack.drishtihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13493946097553579137noreply@blogger.com0