My law school odyssey: three years, three time zones and beyond.
This morning, while collecting a few handfuls of free candy from the Lexis table, I ran into J., my opposing counsel from Moot Court. Since the petitioner's side was one man short, J. actually had to do two oral arguments in succession: one against me, and one against P. immediately afterward.
Anyone who's outlining with a limited amount of adjacent spread-out-books space, or for that matter anyone with a Wi-Fi connection in class, will find these useful if you haven't found them already:
Hey, it's a rally!
Come and Participate in the National Day of Acti(sic)
Defend Affirmative Action
When: Tuesday, April 1st, 2003 @ 11:30 - 1:15 pm
What: On Tuesday, April 1st the United States Supreme Court will hear oral arguments in the Grutter v. Bollinger, University of Michigan Affirmative Action case. Millions of Americans across the Nation will hold local rallies and marches to celebrate and defend affirmative action. Do not miss out on this opportunity to make sure [our school] is active in this progressive movement.
The program will consist of a live debate, student testimonies and spoken word.
We look forward to seeing you there!
thus spake /jca @ 6:20 PM...
I have been so lax in my outlining duties. I enjoyed Moot Court so much, and everything else so little, that deciding where to allocate my available work hours was a no-brainer. I'm lucky I've kept up with my class reading and haven't started bagging on Contracts like a good 50% of my section.
G R E E T I N G S Capricorn
I wound up not going for the manicure this afternoon. It's best not to get one anyway right before you clean house.
In four hours I'll be arguing. The adrenaline rush is already starting to build.
"Hey," said my husband as I tried on the suit to make sure the alterations had nipped and tucked it where they were supposed to. "That suit looks nice."
People will tell you that San Francisco is a major city, international cultural center, capital-D Destination. They lie. It's a dinky little town that suffers from an embarrassing paucity of one-hour dry cleaners.
Forget the walkout...it's a study-out!
Did you see? Salam Pax made the front page of Yahoo! Apparently Reuters decided that the existence of his blog -- which hasn't been updated in an unsettling day or two -- was in itself newsworthy. He's got to be thrilled to have beaten Instapundit and the Volokhs to this particular flavor of fame...that is, if his Internet service is still live...thus spake /jca @ 10:51 PM...
Checklist for oral arguments, upcoming this Thursday:
Claude Steele's research is making the blog rounds. Joanne Jacobs pegs his latest feat of negative-expectancy exacerbation.
Overheard in the women's restroom:
Being TV-less has its benefits. I had no idea that the Academy Awards were scheduled for today until I happened to check in to Yahoo and saw that they had announced the winners.
Hey, criminal lawyers! Contribute to our society's definition of depravity!thus spake /jca @ 6:01 PM...
Seen at the gym this morning: a T-shirt reading MAKE LOVE NOT LAW REVIEW.
Among the serving staff at my school's cafeteria is a really sweet, uncle-esque guy named Ali. He's an expert on area Persian restaurants and, every so often when the chef gives him the chance, will sneak a Persian dish in among the day's specials. "This rice has dried fruit in it," he'll say, convincing me to forego my daily turkey wrap, or "Taste the filling for my Persian burritos!" The falafel served by the cafeteria is, by Ali's assertion, his own recipe. (Although I hope the hummus isn't, because it's way too garlicky.)
Nothing like the joy of being stuck at school until 5:30 on a Friday afternoon.
Now we're hearing sirens.
This just in on email:
Chanting noises got louder. I moved to the window nearest to my sixth-floor lawbrary cubicle and -- how the heck did they get here? -- a protest roughly four blocks deep was progressing down Hyde toward McAllister, where they turned right and marched on in the direction of the parking garage (out of which my friends, if they haven't already, most certainly will not be able to exit for the next twenty minutes at least).
Patrick reports from the financial district:
A busy day in Fog City.
3/19/2003 9:38 PM...
3/18/2003 10:41 PM...
This afternoon after Edie, I trundled up to the office of the dean of students, chewing on an idea.
Nobody is Irish in San Francisco, or at least if they are, nobody's admitting it.
They've released the course schedule for next semester, so my Mendocino comedown has been spent ciphering out potential course combinations for next semester.
Mendocino was sublime, as anticipated. The Whale Watch Inn is perhaps a misnomer -- three nights there with nary a fluke in sight -- but is just the thing for detaching oneself from the continuum for a bit. Hand-carved furniture, 138 wooden steps down the cliff to the tidepools full of starfish, and fresh-baked banana bread at breakfast. Our room, the Bath Suite (more realistically named than the inn), featured a whirlpool tub in a loft atop a spiral staircase. Mmmm...bubble baths. Repeatedly. All was good.
My mother's new horse is named Skip In Earnest, Ernie for short. He is an eight-year-old liver chestnut gelding, sixteen hands, with an astonishingly unflappable personality. You can hot shoe Ernie, go at him with a clipper, turn him out with strange horses in a paddock surrounded by a shock fence, and his only reaction is a few blinks of his giant limpid eyes and a wet snuffle. If he weren't so clearly a horse, you could almost mistake him for a cow. Mom recently retired her first horse after much high-maintenance hassle over his health, and to see her with an undemanding horse who already loves her as much as she loves him...it's blissful.
I need spring break so badly, my entire body itches. I want to tear out of my skin and run, clean and screaming and trailing streamers of blood, run and run and run until I'm surrounded by redwoods and ocean and not another human soul.
I should officially extend a hug to all of the pre-1Ls who have been hanging out here recently, paging through my archives and claiming to draw wisdom therefrom. (How they're finding it, I couldn't tell you. I sure didn't put any there. Maybe it just grows, like mold, on words left out in the open for long enough.)
Over the past week or so, I've come to realize something heartening.
My Moot Court TA had mysteriously gone AWOL for three days prior to yesterday's deadline. "I have company this weekend," she emailed me. "I have class all Monday until 6 pm." So I sought the aid of another TA on Monday afternoon to do a last-draft error sweep on my brief before I invested big bucks in fancy binding.
Vello-binding my Moot Court briefs at Kinko's cost me a whopping $30 -- and I didn't even copy the damn things there. I guess it's just that complicated and labor intensive to snap two strips of plastic together around a stack of paper.
Final briefs for Moot Court cannot, alas, be submitted via email. I've grown accustomed to sending off a draft on Monday night and having comments either emailed back to me (by the TA) or aired on the overhead projector (by the instructor). Now, not only must I print eight copies of the item, it's also required that they be vello-bound with card stock covers in a California-Supreme-Court-respondent-specific shade of blue.
Several fellow student blawgers have talked about the Barrister's Ball at their schools, which leaves me feeling rather antisocial. Ours was last week, and I didn't go.