What Would Gilligan Do?

Today, Joe and I got to reunite with some of my favorite people---the former staff members of the daily university paper. It had been too long since we'd seen many of them, and I was happily reminded of why I liked them so much in the first place. One of them admonished me to blog more, so here.

There's been so much going on since my last blog, that it's hard to know where to begin, and frankly, I'm exhausted tonight. But I will do my best to write more frequently.

See you after a long nap,
Me

Tonight, I finished reading, "Four Trials," by newly-selected Democratic Vice Presidential candidate, Senator John Edwards. Anyone who still thinks punitive damages are "un-American" after reading Edwards' depiction of Valerie Lakey's near-fatal encounter with a mismanufactured swimming pool drain is officially Borg.

I've uploaded some of my GarageBand tunes to www.macidol.com:80/jamroom/bands/1003/music.php, and I'm hoping to upload more soon. My husband bought me a freestanding mike so I can record my "country" tune, composed during the hell that was second semester finals. My friends said it sounded like something Robert Earl Keene would record. I'll take that as a compliment. Sounds better than, "Didn't Weird Al do that one?" (Not that he's not awesome...no hate mail, please).

My buddies are loose on the European continent, enjoying a summer of study abroad. Man, do I miss them! The email updates really brighten my day, though I scan any articles about the Pamplona running of the bulls, searching to make sure my friend, P.J., doesn't wind up among the casualties. Aw, he's from Georgia. Surely he knows how to elude a bull.

Apparently, my friend Shannon engaged an Irishman in political conversation last night and nearly caused an international incident. I'm glad she lived to tell about it. For God's sake, Shannon, don't insult the whiskey when you go to Scotland. You'll wind up on the wrong end of a dirk, for sure, and I don't have time to march all the way overseas to kick the arse of someone who's probably my kin. Just save it up, and we'll dish when you get back, alright?

I'm going to ask my attorney to let me sit in on the deposition of a witness in one of our cases Thursday. I hope he'll let me see even a small portion of it. I've read several transcripts this summer, and they're really where the meat of the evidence lies. I want to see the way my attorney is able to get people to open up, and I want to become more familiar with the procedure of it all. Cross your fingers.

So far, so good on the law firm position. I love it! It's exciting to watch how a law office *really* functions, and as I see the cases come in and out, my Civil Procedure course is starting, retroactively, to make some sense!
My husband and I encountered a living example of irony last night---the Wally World denizen restocking the candy aisle was a grumpy, passive-aggressive little woman of dour disposition *who hates candy.* We know this because she hounded us the entire time we were deciding between gummy worms and Wint-O-Green Lifesavers, telling us exactly how sick the smell of chocolate makes her, how she can't understand what anyone sees in the stuff. "Go ahead, have some!" she said sarcastically, adding pointedly, "Of course, there's also *sugar free* candy." We left with gummy worms and a solid feeling of relief neither of us is any relation to her.
She reminded us of another woman we'd met in Sam's several years earlier, The Odo-Ban Lady. The Odo-Ban Lady was a perky senior citizen who lurked in the back of the warehouse near the freezers full of mini quiche and ten pound bricks of cheddar. She was hawking an amazing cleaning solution, Odo-Ban, which she claimed was so powerful it was used by law enforcement in Vegas to deodorize Cadillac trunks in which decomposing mobsters had been found. She went into lurid detail about these miraculous crime scene cleanups, to the point we could actually *see* the maggots she desccribed. Then, she gave her personal testimony. Apparently, an irritated customer "went poo poo" all over the Sam's public restroom stall, leaving "poo poo" all over the walls, fixtures, and floor. "It was just everywhere!" the Odo-Ban Lady swore. But for Odo-Ban, that bathroom would surely still be closed to the public. "Here, smell this!" she said, as she shoved what appeared to be a handi-wipe under my nose. I was overwhelmed by the smell of onions, but was relieved, given the context, that it wasn't "poo poo." "Now, smell this!" she said, as she sprayed the handi-wipe with her miraculous elixir and shoved it back under my nose. Mmm, onions and soap.
We left, horrified, and for years avoided that corner of the store, just in case she was still there with her table full of spraybottles. The back corner of Sam's, despite various merchandise shuffles and a complete interior remodel of the store, is still known to us as "The Lair of the Odo-Ban Lady."

My husband and I went out tonight to (modestly) celebrate my final grades. There was a distinct overall improvement, due mainly to a difference in the organization of my answers and the methodology I employed in studying this year. I shifted my focus as far as how I approached the information, and apparently, it worked. Yes, I'd still like to be a perfect law student, but then again, I'd also like to be 5'10" and look like a supermodel. People in Hell want icewater, too.
There was some controversy surrounding our Torts final, since at the last minute, the administration exempted an entire section from the exam (due to their professor's sudden death). It was decided the school would give that entire section a "Z" grade for that semester of Torts, while the rest of us took our finals. In addition, since it was our professor who had to take over the deceased prof's classes, our final had to be modified to make it easier to grade (but not to take). As of this evening, no grade had been posted for my Torts final. I'm trying not to let it freak me out. If I just do the same in there as last semester, I will still have improved my GPA overall. Cross your fingers.
I hope my friends are satisfied with their grades this semester, too; I think it was definitely tough all around this spring. I'm feeling better about the interpersonal drama I encountered during the second half of the semester. Having discussed it with some friends outside of law school, I've decided it doesn't matter that much in the grand scheme of things.
In the meantime, I've been working with the program GarageBand and creating some tunes, including a country song (!?!) I wrote on the road between home and school. My tastes run more toward old school R&B and techno/experimental tracks, so it's been funny to see this tune emerge. Maybe if law school doesn't work out, I can run up to Nashvegas and get my hick groove on.
If that doesn't work out, I could be the mayor of an imaginary city with a dirty name. My experience playing SimCity4 proves I have the skills necessary for that job. My Sims say I rock, and who am I to argue with them, pixelated cuties that they are? Does it make me a bad person to hope my mother-in-law gets a new, faster PC so I can play Sims2 in the fall? Oh, well...One of my friends has already determined I'm going to Hell, where I'm going to be bartender. Think of the tips, especially for icewater!

Well, it's over. My friends and I have officially survived our first year of law school, and have made the transition from 1L to 2L. Though grades still depend upon how the curve works out, I feel far better this semester about my exams (both the preparation and execution) than I did first semester.
I was surprised to feel the sadness which arrived yesterday morning. One of my professors said he experienced the same thing at the end of his first year, so at least I know I'm not the only one. I will miss my friends, but we'll all be doing exciting things this summer, and August isn't that far away.
We met for one last time at a local bar to celebrate one of our birthdays. Everyone there seemed relieved to not have any assignments or study pending, and we all hugged goodbye. I enjoy the people I've met this year, and I look forward to getting to know, not only them, but other classmates better next year as well.
Today, I'm feeling off-kilter, as if there's something I'm supposed to be doing, though I know there's nothing. I will begin my law firm job on the seventeenth, and in the meantime, I will relax until it's time to move into my new house.
Now it's time to go. There are Froot Loops to eat and cartoons to watch. It's been a long time since I just sat in my pajamas and accomplished nothing at all. Tivo, here I come!

Just a brief update before I hit the bed tonight. I've gotten the job with the law firm in town for at least part of the summer, and I've made it past the first round of interviews for the Chicago internship. I should hear back from Chicago by the 16th. Molly the Wonderdog and I are participating in a charity walk this Saturday; it's a fundraiser for a law professor suffering from cancer. So far the law school has over 150 participants registered. I'm proud to see such a wonderful turnout.
I went to a lecture given tonight by a speaker from the national ACLU regarding the Patriot Act. Although much of what I heard was old news, it was heartening to hear of the grassroots progress the ACLU is making in my civil rights-challenged homestate.
I wound up eating three suppers tonight out of logistical snafus and guilt. My mother-in-law had cooked for me, so I felt obligated to have supper when I came in from my twelve-hour day. This was on top of the Mexican early supper I'd had and the crudites I'd eaten at the post-lecture reception. Right now, I could really use a feather...
Hoping to move into a small house nearby for the summer. I don't want to seem ungrateful, but sometimes, I'd just like to have something to do besides law school, and laundry and dishes sound pretty darn good. Here, everything is done for me (I know, cry me a river), and I have no distractions when I get depressed from missing Joe. I need some distractions. Badly.
Still no word on Joe's job, except the department suddenly decided it had to interview someone else, too. I hate the effect this has had on Joe. He feels about two feet high. Plus, he's working sixty hour weeks at the stupid paper. Why can't we find something over here...anything?
Spent entirely too much getting my hair colored and cut today. I look far less like Annie now. Also, though I just bought jeans two sizes smaller due to weight loss, I'm about to have to buy the next ones down. I keep having to hitch up my pants. I'd hate to inadvertently moon anyone. I'd much rather moon them deliberately. I've decided when I hit the *next* size down, which should be at the end of the summer, I'm piercing my bellybutton. Have tossed around the idea of getting one "L" on my butt for each year of law school, to commemorate being known by the dehumanizing titles of "One L," "Two L," and so on. Then, upon passage of the bar, a big scales of justice right across the cheek...left, of course.
Well, maybe not so much on the tattooing...I'm allergic to pain.

March can best be summed up as a contest of wills between me and my stomach lining. Lots of interpersonal drama, coupled with stress over exam preparation, made the month less than pleasant. Enough said.
In the meantime, I've won the job teaching LSAT seminars. This week, I also interviewed for an internship with DePaul University in Chicago, and a clerical position with a local law firm, both for the summer. I've been elected Dean (president) of the Jefferson Davis Senate of Delta Theta Phi, which carries with it a badly-needed scholarship, and I've registered for thirteen hours of classes in the fall.
There were lots of technical snafus this semester (this semester? Every semester!) with registration, so I was unable (like many others I know) to get the electives I wanted. Also, by the time I got into the system, summer school was full. But the good news is I was selected for the Civil Legal Clinic next spring, where I'll be giving legal aid to women in Domestic Violence shelters. I'm really looking forward to that work; it should be extremely rewarding.
I've resigned from one office I held due to my increasing dissatisfaction with how the organization was being run. A new slate of officers this fall should make a real difference.
I've now officially won two, count 'em, two games of pool in my life. The game I won Monday marks my first victory over a Yankee. Maybe I should count it twice.
My friends and I decided we had to show this poor boy from Brooklyn the essence of Southern Gothic. It was late, so the best we could do was a bag of gas station boiled peanuts and a trip to Graceland Too.
For those of you ignorant of Graceland Too's charms, it is as if Disneyland and the Texas Chainsaw Massacre had a baby, then named it Elvis. Graceland Too is a museum to Elvis, run by a Holly Springs man named Paul MacLeod. Mr. MacLeod's eccentric personality and the macabre character of his houseful of memorabilia make Graceland Too the ultimate stop on any tour of the Weird South. We have a theory regarding Mr. MacLeod's son, Elvis Aaron Presley MacLeod, who guests seem always to have just missed. We don't quite believe he's in Las Vegas, filming Elvis movies with Sean Penn, as Mr. MacLeod asserts. We think, instead, his whereabouts are known only to Bigfoot and the guy driving the mothership. If "A Rose for Emily" had been written by Col. Tom Parker, I'm sure it would feel a lot like Graceland Too.
I plan on taking a friend there soon, followed by dinner at the odd little German gasthaus on the opposite side of the county. Be good to yourself, and visit both places soon. Be sure and ask Paul if he's had his daily case of Cokes, and see what an earful you get. (evil laughter)