Separation of Powers Never Looked This Good

I had my very first teaching experience at The Circus today.

Up until now, I've just been holding office hours and looking Very Serious and Important up near the front of the room, while my master professor dances around imparting wisdom and molding young minds. It was inevitable, though, that at some point I'd have to earn my own TA wings, and embark on the terrifying project of preparing my own lecture.

For reasons best understood by those with tenure, the class is made up large lecture sections, with the occasional smaller discussion section meeting every few weeks. "Small" is sort of a relative term- I walked in today to forty sets of eyes peering down at me while I fiddled with the podium. Since the "discussion" sections are almost 2 hours long, they're more like discussion-lecture-do-a-dance-to-keep-their-attention sections, one to each teaching assistant. We set them up to be about 75% lecture & review, which means that I come in with at least an hour's worth of "material," and pray that they have questions- any questions.

I had to lecture on separation of powers and the Constitution, so, naturally, I spent the better part of last week re-reading their assigned materials, and waking up in a cold sweat when I imagined all of them staring at me for 2 hours, like I'd lost my mind. By way of preparation, I consulted with Funny Mean Friend, who has the experience and wisdom I'll be trying to fake for the semester, and got an excellent little pep talk from my old Con Law professor ("Ha! Freshman! That's awful...bring candy. Want to do my Lopez lecture?"). It didn't solve the butterflies problem entirely, but it certainly helped.

I had an excellent little outline all prepared, and I put on my most authority-commanding sweater vest. Excellent boots? Check. Nerdy poli sci TA glasses? Check. Sardonic tone? Check. I was good to go. Things were going really well until the students got there, actually.

That's when the real trouble started.

Taking attendance went just fine. Talking about class standards went...well, I warned them that if somebody didn't take one for the team and participate, we were going to get into the Socratic method, and that wasn't going to be fun for anyone (this was a blatant lie. It was going to be fun for me). Then I made them go around the room and tell me their favorite Saturday morning cartoon shows, because gosh darn it, internet, freshmen just take themselves too seriously sometimes. And I wanted to know who the real nerds were.

Funny Mean Friend warned me not to talk too quickly, so naturally, I looked down at my notes, looked up...found myself 10 minutes later waxing poetic about how the Constitution is "really cool" like some sort of aging cheerleader on speed. The ones that will quickly become my favorites were nodding sympathetically (yes, crazy Constitution Lady! Impart your wisdom to us!), a few looked bemused, and one or two just tried frantically to write down every word I said. It was kind of cute, really. Look at the young minds, being molded!

Or at least, it would have been cute if my foray into Constitution-fest 2009 hadn't completely obliterated any semblance of order that my lecture notes once had (I'm a highly mobile, paper-shuffling lecturer). After Constitution-fest (this year's theme: "Why you really should care"), I had to recombobulate myself and try to get some kind of sense back into the lecture. I mostly did. I'm a good ad-libber.

Though we didn't have any major issues, they did test my dedication to this whole "Socratic Method" threat once:

"So, where does Congress' power come from?"
**crickets**
"Mr. PoppedCollar?"
"Um.....like. I don't know...the law. And stuff."
"Can you be a little more specific, Mr. PopperCollar?"

I will not have to cold-call again. Freshman are also much, much easier to frighten into compliance than law school students. Someone is bound to take one for the team- when I get better at this, I will worry more about teaching methodology, but now I am worried about speaking to an empty room. And really: it's worth getting into. Freshmen are so adorable- they know such a shockingly small amount, and they're so naive, so you can really see the light bulb come on when they start to get it. They even asked insightful questions, which, based on my experiences in my own government classes, was above and beyond what I expected.

The only other bobble (that I have not already buried deep into my psyche, that is) came in regards to participation as well. On the advice of my Con Law prof and Roommate, I brought a bag of candy to bribe them into participating. Things were going swimmingly until some kid at the back of the room started answering questions. Ever the enthusiastic TA, I nonchalantly tossed him a mini-Twix...which ricocheted off the ceiling and hit some girl in the face three rows up.

My bad. So I announced that from here on out, everyone was going to participate Because I Said So, so they could take their dang candy now, and pass it around. Lesson learned: Caramel in the classroom is not to be taken lightly.

On the upside: I didn't swear. Not once! No one cried, no one walked out, and no (serious) bodily injuries occurred. While I did manage to coat myself entirely in chalkboard dust, no animals were harmed in the delivery of this lecture. All in all, I'm going to call my first day flying solo a resounding success (This is the point at which I cross my fingers and hope they don't humiliate me in the lecture section on Friday).

They have a paper assigned next week. It's going to be a doozy. Ha.

Teaching is awesome.

I Win! Also, am exceedingly uncomplicated.

Yep, I'm still employed.

Got letter from from my summer firm today confirming my start date, and asking me to fill out a "conflict of interest" form. I should have just written in red pen "I have no substantive legal experience" to alleviate their concerns, but I didn't want to push my luck in the current economic climate. Instead, its just a vast wasteland of empty space: Investments (none), Lawsuits (none), Prior Firm Work (none).

Life is so beautifully uncomplicated when you are just a baby lawyer.

Also, they clearly have not gotten this semester's grades yet, because I still have a job. Mwhahahah. It's too late now, Summer Firm!

"...and hilarity ensued"

I have become enamored of this phrase: "...and hilarity ensued."

I'm not sure when it first flitted through my head, but because it so accurately describes so many moments (small and large) in my life, it's stuck there, like a constant punchline to my increasingly surreal existence.

I've just gotten done with my lecture for the day (speaking of hilarity). More on that later, but suffice it to say that I would rather be feared than loved, given the option. My students would rather be enlightened than bemused and perturbed, but no one gave them an option, so tough cookies.

Speaking of hilarity: do you know who would rather be loved? The sad, sad, 1L boy at the table next to me in the lounge. Unfortunately, his paramour/classmate is having none of it. It's like re-living my painfully awkward freshman year of high school just listening to them: and please believe, I am listening. This is the price you pay for breaking up in a public place and being totally insufferable while doing it.

Things don't look good for our would-be Romeo. Earlier this year, he decried the lack of "Supreme Court Advocacy" classes at our school, and I informed him that the best way for him to get in front of SCOTUS was to wait in line with everyone else (I'm a dream killer). To be fair, I wouldn't have to kill his dreams if he wouldn't insist upon being totally overbearing and condescedning in every way.

The passing of a semester has not wisened this one up.

For starters, he's made the unfortunate mistake of telling her that she's being "PMS-y." (...and hilarity ensued). It only takes a marginal amount of perception to know that this is never, ever, a good plan, so if his appearance alone didn't tell you that he doesn't get out much, then his surprise that this assessment might not go over smoothly definitely would. She's trying to disprove his PMS theory by being as rational and reasonable as humanly possible, which only makes her look a little bit more crazy and a lot more irritated. PMS or no PMS, this girl is going to crack, and the result are going to be ugly for Romeo.

He also has 6 bound copies of the Constitution out on the table, like so many Gideon Bibles (...and how could hilarity not ensue?). I do not think that this is going to help his cause.

It's so irritating when larval lawyers try to employ their newly learned courtroom skills in their normal human interactions: the "I am more rational than you" tone, the abuse of the word "logically" and "it follows that," the false presentation of totally calm and rational debate- really, it's enough to make a person stand up and scream. If you haven't learned interpersonal skills by law school, moot court alone will taint you for the rest of the world.

He's now facing the terrifying false calm of a woman who is about to snap and strangle him- I know, having seen this approach from my mother, and emulated it myself (...and hilarity ensued). Like many unsuspecting law students, he doesn't seem to see it coming.

There is deep breathing, and weighty sighs, suggestions of "going on a break" and "I didn't realize." Both are pretending that this is a totally normal conversation to have in the middle of a crowded lounge (hint: It's not...and hilarity ensued). Prepare for the onslaught of long-suffering groans and the throwing of heads upon desks. If either were more attractive, it might be a soap opera.

As they're not, it's just a hilarious parody of what they think lawyers breaking up should look like: wordy, hyperbolic, and a little inane. Whoops! She's finishing with "in summation..." and he's pleading "but can I just respond to...?" (...and hilarity ensued).

Things are looking pretty ugly for Romeo. For everyone else in the lounge? We're just hoping she snaps...and hilarity ensues.

I think my creative side is being stifled.

So last night, I had a dream that I was heading up some sort of mass escape from a very tiny prison.

There were 4 or 5 women about my age, and at least 100 moderately adorable and extremely tiny school children. I had some sort of mission to complete on the beach, and then I had to round them up and get them onto a (no joke) magic school bus and take them....somewhere. I woke up before I could find out where.

The moral of the story is not "Nobody is slowly losing her mind," or even "Nobody sometimes feels that law school is like babysitting."

No, the moral of the story is that the entire experience was in a Rodgers' & Hammerstein-style musical genre, complete with dance ensembles and chorales.

And it was weird.



On second thought, the moral of the story may also be that I am losing my mind.

Survey Says: I should have done the reading.

So Virgin tagged me, and though I'm not usually a meme kind of girl, her writing very helpfully reminded me that meme doesn't have to mean mundane.Also, I've been drinking, and I don't want to read for Corporations. This may result in an uncomfortably honest ramble.

I'm not tagging anyone, because I do what I want. But you should do your own, to give me something to read. In return, I will return to regularly scheduled blogging sometime in the not-so-distant future

Edited to add: For fun and giggles, I decided to read this again sober. I didn't delete anything, but I did clarify, because things got...muddled. Especially down at the bottom of the bottle.

1. What is your idea of perfect happiness?
Returning home from a workout with a glass of Silver Oak in one hand, and a spatula in the other. Sauteing mushrooms in butter, garlic, and red wine. Good conversation in the kitchen. Sitting on the counter while someone with red hair and nice arms makes me a steak. Reading something that crawls into your ears and flows out your tongue. Sitting on the couch with a good companion and a warm cat.

Good lord I have been drinking. Please excuse this unedited foray into Big Psuedo-Poetic Statements, as I am sometimes a drunken cliche.

2. What is your greatest fear?
Waking up to discover that I really am as pedestrian as I always feared I might be.
Dear Internet: I am a snob.

3. What is the trait you most deplore in yourself?
I'm not the self-loathing type. I'm much too busy deploring things in others. Like a penchant for leggings, or gold lycra.
Dear Internet: Just kidding. No really. I am.

4. What is the trait you most deplore in others?
Self-important political posturing. Corollary: Posting political commentary on Facebook. Believe me, if I wanted to know, I'd ask.

5. Which living person do you most admire?
My 1L criminal law professor.
Oh good grief. Yes, officer, I am carrying my nerd card, it's right here, with my pocket protector.
...Also, don't worry, Parentals: I deal with you later, under the "heroes" section. Shouldn't these be the same thing?

6. What is your greatest extravagance?
Very nice Napa Cabernets, with occasionally dalliances into the champagne and/or gourmet cheese arenas.
Also, rampant abuse and mutilation of the English language. Wordiness.

7. What is your current state of mind?
Mellowed out, blissful, denial, brushed with Rutherford dust.

8. What do you consider the most overrated virtue?
Frugality.

9. On what occasion do you lie?
Every time a stranger asks me what I do. Elephant trainer has come up. More than once.
I need to get my shit together, Internet, before strangers start to recognize the crazy.

10. What do you most dislike about your appearance?
When I am upset, I have a giant, Frankenstein-style vein that pops out of my forehead. It's a little grotesque, frankly.
But don't worry, my socks cover the fact that I also have 12 toes. And a tail.

11. Which living person do you most despise?
Guy Fieri. It borders upon the irrational. His pointy bleached head and abuse of the phrase "mad skills" make me apoplectic.

12. What is the quality you most like in a man?
Humor. Exuberance.

13. What is the quality you most like in a woman?
Self-reliance.

14. Which words or phrases do you most overuse?
Oh for fuck's sake; Yeah, not so much; Thanks, but no thanks.

15. What or who is the greatest love of your life?
Oh, he knows.
Fact: Drinking makes me mushy. Apparently.

16. When and where were you happiest?
May 2003, Indianapolis
June 2007, Northern California
March 2008, Indiana (Other)

17. Which talent would you most like to have?
The ability to proof-read my own writing without becoming violently ill.

18. If you could change one thing about yourself, what would it be?
I could have really used another 5 inches of height.
And a pony!

19. What do you consider your greatest achievement?
I have not yet cried in class. Also, once I saved a life. It was wicked cool. I hope I never have to do it again.

20. If you were to die and come back as a person or a thing, what would it be?
Jack Russell Terrier.
Hrmmm...Wino (ha ha. "Come back"? Or just go on being?)

21. Where would you most like to live?
Marin County
I have no idea where this came from. I can only assume it was on TV.

22. What is your most treasured possession?
My national championship ring.

23. What do you regard as the lowest depth of misery?
The regretful, guilty feeling of losing someone for good.
Oh lord, red wine makes me terribly existential and a little melodramatic. Duly noted. Also credited: "The flu"

24. What is your favorite occupation?
Teaching. Sauteing things, see above.

25. What is your most marked characteristic?
Inappropriate enthusiasm.

26. What do you most value in your friends?
Humor, integrity, and the ability to take themselves not quite so seriously.

27. Who are your favorite writers?
I am currently obsessed with Mary Shelley's Frankenstein. I would tell you all about it, but I suspect you'd rather I didn't get into it.

No really. You would rather I didn't. Ask Darwin, who got an overdose of the Why Frankenstein Is the Best Book Ever But Percy Bysshe Shelley Is Kind of a Tool Box lecture. It's a doozy.

28. Who is your hero of fiction?
Oedipa Maas.
Sometimes, I am insufferable in my dedication to things like Pynchon.

29. Which historical figure do you most identify with?

The wine wiped my ability to identify with anyone, especially anyone notable. If this is an interview question, the answer is "My grandfather...[ensuing inspirational story]"

30. Who are your heroes in real life?
My father. Good lord, am I a 6th grader?


31. What are your favorite names?
Charles, Mark, Elizabeth, Julie. My children will all be called by their last initial.

32. What is it that you most dislike?
Loud chewers. If you know me, you know this is not a facetious statement. Violently, violently angry about the loud chewers.

Almost violently beat one of the horrid little troglodytes in the lounge today. I do not want to hear you masticating!

33. What is your greatest regret?
Not just taking the freshman paper boy up on his offer to take me to prom my senior year. If I can't be cool in high school, at least I could have given someone else some social cache.

No really. It would have made him look cooler. I swear.

34. How would you like to die?
Frankly, I'd rather not.
But if it's not an option, well loved, and knowing that the people I leave behind will make it out alright.

35. What is your motto?
"Watch out for loose seal."

I love Google Analytics

Great searches that lead to this blog this week:

1. Fat troglodyte Lauren: I don't like Lauren, either. I do like that this search led to my blog, and you'd better believe that I will be blogging about troglodytes more often. Much more often.

2. Feeling dumb in law school: Obviously. That's what's law school is for. This searcher spent a long time here- maybe they learned something?

3. xanax lsat: Abandon all hope, ye who enter here. Nothing will help you. Nothing.

And, always a favorite:

4. I miss my old life: This should be my byline.



Happy almost-Monday, googlers. I think Lauren's a fat troglodyte, too.

Law School Roundup #157

Welcome to Law School Roundup #157.

This week, many of you went to the Inauguration (but, guys? Pictures? Hello? You're killing me), and reflected on the state of things these days. Many more of you dragged yourselves, disgruntled, to class, and tried to get back to the routine of business as usual in law school land. There were major life events and minor annoyances, but one way or another, you all made it through the week. Congratulations!

So, without further ado, here's this week's selection of posts from law students aspiring, recovering, and still slogging away:

Bringing Out the Crazy: Don't say you weren't warned (Bitchin' Through Law School).

Oh How Pleasant: Law students are charming, or, why reading the Constitution isn't that special, so there. (Love Won't Get You On the Bus).

Oops, Wrong Seat: A student lives out every 1L's nightmare (Dysfunctional Didactics)

Know the Cost Before You Go: After graduation, there's a hefty debt to pay. Are you ready? (Law Ingenue)

Shenanigans! ...And now Clownfish knows more about procedure than I do. Great. (Butterflyfish)

Differentiating: Telling the 1Ls from the 2Ls from the 3Ls in a crowd (War of All Against All)

Kind of a Big Deal: Apparently, there was some sort event on Tuesday (Being is Somethingness) (Project Law School)

With a Grain of Salt: But let's remember our history and not get too excited, shall we? (Virgin in the Volcano) (Learned Musings)

Sheer Terror: (In)Sanity girl learns to ski, with great aplomb ((In)Sanity Souffle)

A Public Announcement: The train is now leaving I-want-love Town (Somebody Shake Me)


Look for next week's roundup at the Legal Underground, and then back here again in 2 weeks. If you want to be added to the blog roll, but don't see yourself up there, shoot me an email and we'll get you on the wall of dis-honor.


Kisses!

Links: Law Wiki, and help for aspiring 0Ls

I don't always promote the links I've been sent,* but occasionally, I make exceptions, either for particularly good resources (noted here), or because of my surpassing glee at the writing featured (see: Funny Mean Friend). Incidentally, I've yet to sell out on the sponsorship thing,** so you'll have to just accept the fact that some things are just too cool not to blog about.

In the last few weeks, I've had two helpful resources sent my way, both of which I've linked in "Legal Bits." The first, an LSAT tips blog, will get a mostly perfunctory glance here, but is well worth sending your pre-L buddies and floundering MBA friends to. The second, a legal wiki, is a little more styled towards the needs of this readership, I expect, and I encourage you to go check it out. Links are in the heading for each section below. Ready? Go!

LSAT Blog: Ace The LSAT
I've been remiss in not doing a write-up for this site several weeks ago, but it should be helpful for my pre-L readers who are taking the February or June tests. This blog is the one that I would be writing, if I wasn't busy doling out less helpful advice to my law school peers.

While the blog is in no way a replacement for a full LSAT prep course, or many hours of dedicated study, Steve offers quite a few helpful tips, and is a very reassuring writer. More importantly, you'll be getting your test information from a professional, and not from the ego and drama fueled madness that many pre-law student advice boards turn into, as the blind lead the blind (Right into TTT! OMG!).

Steve Schwarz, the author, is a professional LSAT tutor living in Manhattan. He posts tips on the taking and preparing for the LSAT, as well as applying to schools, every Friday. If you're in the NY area, he also offers occasional free clinics, which I suspect would be well worth the trip. Especially for the budding law student who is just embarking on their application process, this blog will be quite helpful. To check it out, go here: LSAT Blog: Ace the LSAT.


Which brings me to....

Law Wiki.

Free outlines! And other terrific resources, too, but I had to get your attention somehow.

I am especially excited about the potential for this site. Currently, it is styled just like wikipedia, with sections for outlines and information about law firms, both Candadian and American. Like any good wiki, the success of the site will be dependent upon participation of members, so I encourage you to go and check it out, and add what you can.

If you've never worked in a wiki, they are essentially peer-edited and reviewed online resources. Information comes from users, and is corrected by users as it needs updating. It ends up being a pretty neat community effort, with surprisingly effective results. Moreover, for the technologically marginal, wikis are tremendously easy to edit, so no fear! Get thyself typing, and convey your legal brilliance!

Law students, I've noticed, can be peculiarly reluctant to share their outlines, so I'd encouarge you to think of it as a karmic gift to your terrified first-semester self (or your overworked 3rd semester self), and do unto others over there. You can, of course, get away with being a free rider and grab all the outlines you'd like, but classy people don't free ride, guys. There are a number of outlines up now, and it should be a very helpful place as it grows.

If you're a member of a firm, the site can be a great source for getting information out to future employees and law students. I've also noticed that there is some advertising space available as well- it would be a great chance for a firm to get their name out, while supporting a terrific cause.

This wiki is particularly exciting and appropriate for our generation of law students- I suspect that it could burgeon into a truly extraordinary resource. You can go straight to the site here: Law Wiki, and get involved, or you can email legalintellects@gmail.com.

Happy typing!




...And that, ladies and gents, is the sum of my helpful behavior for the week. Don't expect me to be opening any doors or doing any dishes, mk?




* African princes and special offers being what they are, I'm trying to keep my off-shore transfers of $10000000 and stock of enlargement pills to myself. I'm not a sharer, you know.

**Ghiradelli? Peets Coffee? Mumm Napa? Five Guys Burgers? This is a valuable untapped resource here, guys. As Darwin can tell you, I'm a cheap date.

Well, Would You Look At That.

Even with all the hoopla: this whole peaceful transfer of power thing is pretty cool.

"If I Did It": Of microwaves, EasyMac, and life on the inside

First of all, if it did happen (and I'm not saying that it did), it isn't my fault they didn't lock the doors.

And if they didn't want me to use the faculty kitchen, perhaps they should have named me by name. Because honestly, if you look at the student body, and ask yourself "Who is most likely to sneak into the faculty suite to nuke her EasyMac?"...well, I think the answer should be abundantly clear to you.

It pays to be specific. "No students" just isn't going to cut it.

And it's not as though, when the tupperware melted and the thing exploded everywhere, any real damage was done. The microwave is good as new, honest. Although really: where are the paper towels in there? Anyway, you're going to have to buy new coffee filters. A lot of them. No, I don't want to discuss it.

Really, you should be thanking me. I could have held the Bloody Mary mix for ransom until you changed my Copyright grade.

Also, I hate to stir up trouble, but you're getting paid much too much to be drinking Swiss Miss and instant coffee. I'm not getting paid, so I took some. Maybe. I thought about leaving you a little something special, but it's just wrong to put good coffee in whatever pre-lunar landing brewing monster you've got set up in there. Someone should organize.

But anyway. Hypothetically, if there was once an EasyMac incident, the microwave is fine. And it is much (hypothetically) nicer than the ones in the student lounge, you sly dogs. Not that I would know.


You saw nothing. Don't say a word, or the popcorn popper is toast.

Law School Roundup #156

This week's Law School Roundup is up at the Legal Underground. Check it out for posts by law students current, aspiring, and recovering.

Check back here for next week's Roundup, same great place & time!



Update: Sorry, feed readers, for the wrong link. You're all updated now!

Yes, Please.

Do you read Smitten Kitchen? Because, really, Internet, you should.

SK is this delightful cooking and recipe blog (see "The Good Stuff" link section) that taught me how to make The World's Greatest Pie Crust (No joke. Even Darwin's mom was breaking off little bits of it from the pan post-Thanksgiving festivities. It is delicious.).

Also, she takes truly stunning photographs of food- exquisite, really. Which is why I nearly died yesterday when she posted a recipe for Chouquettes. You can't even hear the word without thinking that it will be a lovely little fluff of delight, now, can you?

Judging by the photos (which, honestly, don't click the link if you don't want to drool all over yourself), they might be the most airy, perfect, little pieces of pastry goodness ever to grace a piece of parchment paper.

Anyway, I think I've found my next Self-Indulgence Wednesdays treat- because, wow. Yum. The recipe is right here, and if anyone out there wants to make me their best friend ever....well. I'm just saying. I like the chocolate ones.

A Creepy January Story: Or, Pest Removal- Another Great Reason to Love The Internet

Good news: the Note That Beat Up Your Grandma And Stole Her Purse is officially vanquished. While I very much doubt that it is going to any great lengths to convince my editorial board that I am the sparkling, witty, Editor-in-Chief candidate I not that secretly hope to be, it is, at least, done. Which is good, because there is a bottle of wine with my name on it just waiting for me in the kitchen.

What with the passing of the Note That Pees On Public Property, Especially Orphanages, and the minuscule break in NoTown's outrageous cold spell, the campus is starting to look a little less like the innermost circle of Dante's hell and a little more like the frigid, dreary, potato-chip filled place that I've come to know and love. Roommate and I have resolved to warm things up tonight with cocoa, Kahlua, marshmallows, and a fire.

Well, probably a fire.

 

Which brings me to.....The Critter From Above.

....You see, earlier this year, Sofa the Cat started displaying a creepy amount of attention to the fireplace. Sofa paying borderline-psychotic attention to any thing is not particularly notable in our household (see: preternatural obsession with my scarves, weird fixation about the herb pot, incessant need to sit under the garbage disposal). However, scratching and squeaking noises emanating from the chimney? That will get our attention, post haste.

At first, Roommate and I cooed and flitted about the apartment, convinced there were charming little baby doves/robins/owls/other members of Cinderella's feathered animal posse. Clearly, they were trapped up there, all cold and alone. We determined that we had to do something, so Roommate readied the windows, and I opened the grate, thinking that I would check the flue and see if I couldn't dislodge our adorable, vulnerable new pseudo-roommate.

Of course, at this precise moment I thought what you, dear reader, are silently screaming: "Bats, you fool!" I'm not sure why it didn't occur to me before, but as soon as the word left my lips, the grate was slammed shut, and Roommate and I were both safely huddled behind the couch, swearing on our lives that those horrible things were never, ever, going to be allowed entry into our home, so help us God. Call me a speciest, but cute bewildered little birdy? Ok. Flying rabid rat-thing? No no no no no.

I wish I could tell you that a tremendous flurry of vampire bats came careening out of the hearth (and Internet, you know the only reason that they didn't is because we shut the grate, and Sofa was keeping them at bay), but sadly, nothing quite so exciting happened. Roommate and I reconnoitered behind our couch fortress while we planned our next move. Ultimately, we decided that we would barricade the bats/evil things/terrifying flying monkeys in with a cardboard box, and call maintenance in the morning. I was all for solving the problem ourselves, by lighting a fire and smoking the buggers out, but Roommate pointed out that (a) that required one of us sticking our head in the chimney, and (b) risked the spectre of a flock of flaming bat-things careening around the interior of the apartment.

Forced to wait until morning at the earliest to get rid of our uninvited visitors, Roommate and I sat on the couch and watched Sofa watch the fireplace. Because I am very helpful and pro-active, I googled things like "how to get rid of bats" and "what to do when your house is taken over by vampire flying monkeys." In my search, I learned some very disturbing things about our infestation:

1. In case you were wondering, no, you can't buy bat repellent.

2. But you can get an exciting disease called Histoplasmosis, a fungal infection in the lungs which develops as a result of inhaling bat droppings. And disgusting things. 

3. And more importantly: "Bat removal is not a simple task. The proper way to get rid of them is to exclude the colony - seal off 100% of possible secondary entry points on the home and remove all of the bats from the building safely. It is often very challenging, and it must be done just the right way. An amateur attempt could result in disaster - dead, rotting bats, and bats swarming throughout the walls and the home."

I also discovered this terrific website: Professional Wildlife Removal, and promptly why it had taken so long for this wonderful resource to become a part of my life. Seriously, you should click through and join the fun, because there are all sorts of amazing highlights. For example, each possible beast has a link in the sidebar, complete with a corresponding icon- are you infested with Armadillos? Click on the adorable little armadillo icon, and learn what to do (fun fact: armadillos, while cute and hilarious in concept, are nasty and frightening in person). Once you click through, you can see a picture of what exactly is causing your problem. Not sure if you've got beavers or canines? Check against the mug shots!

My favorite, though, is the link that says "Dead." Because, friends, if you've got an infestation of dead, you've got a serious problem. Indicators include, but are not limited to:
"(1)Terrible odor inside home, (2) Terrible odor outside home, (3) Presence of swarms of flies, and (4) Stains on ceiling or wall." If you're still not certain, don't worry: "Dead" also has a mug shot.

And that's why I love the Internet.

 

And in case you were wondering: the maintenance guys came, set a fire, and smoked the buggers out. And all was right in the world, until yesterday, when a resounding, clanging, scrambling noise started emanating from the chimney. I'm going to consult the website- I can only hope it's not an infestation of "Other"

In Which My Psychological Breakdown Necessitates a Beadazzler.

Gah. I have so, so many words left to write and bluebook on The Note That Made Baby Jesus Cry, and oh-mother-of-truck it has been a long week. Resigning myself to defeat, or at least mediocrity, I dropped my Federal Courts for Super Smart Geniuses class, and am going to add something that doesn't renew my 1L fears about failing out of law school. Academic interests be damned, I can't afford to keep playing fast and loose with my GPA.

Because it turns out, Internet, that my easy-A, piece of cake, gosh-I'm-so-smart class? Not so much a gosh-I'm-so-smart as it was gosh-you're-all-pedestrian-and-middle-of-the-road-students class. At least I'm not alone in this, but that sucks. Getting grades in sucks. Writing student notes sucks. The unholy cold that has descended upon NoSchool sucks. This is a pity party. Bring red wine.

Yesterday, I preempted my usual grand mal seizure of hyperbolic panic that usually occurs at the end of the semester, and decided to have a good healthy freakout right in the middle of the lounge. Sometimes these things sneak up on you, and the next thing you know, you're writing emails to Darwin entitled "This message kills puppies and sunshine," and making desperate declarations about how I was never going to do well, ever, in anything, because I'm Just Mediocre.

The I'm Just Mediocre (TM) crisis is an approximately bi-annual event for me. Some people fear snakes, or flying, or public speaking. I fear waking up one morning realizing that I'm not quite as special or talented as I have been leading everyone else to believe all these years. To be fair, I'm not particularly interested, when it comes down to it, in doing many of the steps it would take to avert this problem (see: starting my note on time, studying instead of blogging), but still. The panic is real.

Because the I'm Just Mediocre doomsday is a very real possibility, I'm endeavoring to learn as many smoke and mirror tactics as possible (this is also why I love, love, love undergrads). In corresponding with Funny Mean Friend last night, I asked if she thought I could finish my Horrible Note That Ruined Christmas my the due date, in such a way that my editors would conclude I was merely an undertalented writer, as opposed to a lazy, lazy procrastinator. She prefers getting labeled as a procrastinator, while I prefer whatever doesn't lead to me being made to write the damn thing again, but she had the following timeline:

However, the shorter answer is: of course you can. 20 hours to write. 4 to eat, sleep, and bathe. 20 more to revise and proofread, with another 4 for your breakdown. Beautiful symmetry there.

Having already had my breakdown (and in under 4 hours!) I am running ahead of schedule. Mediocre people don't run ahead of schedule, so things are looking up for me. Barring any actual brilliance to be evinced in my Note That Kicks Puppies And Steals Candy, we've decided that Beadazzling it is a valid alternative option- it is the nice haircut and shiny jewelry equivalent for the paper-writing set. Dazzle and distract! Dazzle and distract!

Here's hoping my (mediocre) writing is covered up by the glitter. I'll see you on the other side!

Nasty, brutish, and short.

Hooray! The little minions are coming in today to discuss Locke & Hobbes. Who misses reading Leviathan? Internet, put your hands in the air if you love you some social contract theory.

Because I got a bit later start in the year than Funny Mean Friend, I've had no criers- yet. However, if they actually did do the reading, I expect at least one of them to abandon all hope and fling himself, weeping, onto the floor. Because, with a high of 4 degrees today, everything here at NoSchool is looking pretty bleak, and throwing approximately 90 pounds of Hobbes at a bunch of freshman on the first week of class is the professorial version of breaking them like wild horses.

Since I remember the class reaction from many, many years ago, when I took the course, I'm already anticipating the outrage and bemusement. I can tell I've got some characters already- one avowed 18 year-old "Living Constitutionalist," a girl who was texting and giggling all through the introductory lecture on Tuesday, and at least 6 or 7 who have already made the terrible mistake of taking themselves much too seriously. I'm terribly glad they are self-professed "committed students", but, having never been one myself, I'm a little skeptical of their kind.

I'm just looking forward to getting a little bit of personality out of them: it should make for excellent blogging.

In the meantime, other things in my life that are nasty, brutish, & short: the amount of sleep I'm getting, my impending note, that awful 3L in the front row of my Evidence II class (more on him later).

And, since The Note That Broke My Will And Made Me Hate Writing is due Friday (yes, that one, the one that comes after today) and I still have 3700 words of "meh" left to write: I'm off.

In the meantime, go cry to a professor or TA in my honor. Everyone knows they find it endearing.

SIW #1: I rock out, with regularity. And eat cookies!

If you've noticed a lack of law-related posts, it is because I'm in denial. And writing. Always. About nothing interesting at all. 2L year is a bitch, and both my blogging and my legal writing have gone into a spiraling hole of lackluster blech. I need a bit of a jumpstart, but it's frightful outside, and stagnant inside, so I'm feeling a little stuck.

Expect an update on my academic exploits and those whose lives I'm about to make utterly miserable within the next week. In the meantime, I'm struggling to keep sane.

Today is Self-Indulgence Wednesday (SIW) (remember this? People, indulge yourselves). Roommate left for work early this morning, so I spent the morning serenading Sofa the Cat with Billy Joel tunes. To the neighbors/Sofa/anyone spying in the window: It all goes downhill from here. You won't want to be around on Journey day. I'm just sayin'.

Then, I realized that "Sofa-pants" and "wanna-dance" rhyme, and a new era in musical improv was born. I've determined that I am a musical genius/tone deaf, and will be performing in the law school talent show this spring. Tickets are limited, so get yours now.

I am already glad I've reinstated Self Indulgence Wednesdays. I will probably have to have s'mores this afternoon, just to round things out.

Yeah. You're jealous.

In Which I Leave The Zoo.

All good things must come to an end. So, too, must all mediocre, cringe-inducing things (Bromance, I'm looking at you).

This semester, due to time/sanity constraints, I am no longer working at The Zoo. Instead, glutton for fun and punishment that I am, I've taken a position as a graduate teaching assistant with an undergrad government class. It is possible I am just trying to harken back to the days of coaching, or just be a little more like Funny Mean Friend. Maybe I just like seeing freshman cry. At any rate: new year, new job, new hilarious set of characters.

This position is a step up from the Zoo. There are several upsides to teaching: money, getting to hold office hours 3 hours a week in a coffee shop (I love getting paid for my coffee time), constant interjections of undergrad-style humor, etc. My supervising professor is awesome, in a way that I appreciate quite a bit more than I think his students will: he dresses like an actual hobo and swears like a sailor. Also, this time around my little beasties are better behaved, begging for treats, and less likely to fatally maul me if I turn my back, but other than that, they're tamer versions of the same old wild animals. Maybe I've graduated from Zookeeper to Circus Trainer? I'm not quite certain yet.

The first day of class is today, and I'm having a bit of first-day anxiety. Do these boots convey the proper amount of "I am in charge, and also, very competent" to you? I'm slightly concerned that they can smell my fear and total lack of teaching ability, and will exploit it. They have papers due in 2 weeks- I will let you know if this is a monkeys/Shakespeare situation, or if I have some budding intellectuals on my hands. 

On that note- I'm off! I'll keep you updated on how my monkeys minions adoring fans little darlings do. With any luck, they'll be providing blog fodder all semester long.

 

ImNobody: Shaping young minds and scarring young souls since 2006.

Law School Roundup #155

Welcome to Law School Roundup # 155.

This week, the pre-Ls struggled with law school decisions, the 1Ls discovered that yes, grades are are a rude awakening, the 2Ls searched increasingly desperately for jobs, and the 3Ls awoke from their holiday reverie to start worrying about the bar exam. If you're not staring blankly at your computer screen, wishing the winter and the new semester would just. go. away., here's this week's selection of posts from law students aspiring, recovering, and still slogging away:

Reasons to Go to Law School: Someone should give this list to Career Services (My Legal Fiction)

By George, She's Right! A reflection on the new semester. ((In)Sanity Souffle)

It's all a matter of perspective: If grades coming in has you feeling dumb, just think: you could be competing on The Bachelor (A Woman in Law School)

Disturbingly Familiar: Crim Law hypos popping up in real life, or what to do when victim dies 35 years after the fact (The Blawography)

Dancing to your own beat: A heartfelt thank you to the Metro Singer (Learned Musings via Sua Sponte)

Making a quick buck: What did they do before Lexis and Westlaw? (Lawful Living)

Family Nagging 2.0: What's better than guilt delivered straight to your email address? (Legally Blonde Ambition)

Doing the Cover Letter Dance: The job search is better set to music, but cover letters still suck. (Laughing: With or At You)

Legal Innovation: Let's trade in the student loan debt for a snazzy discount store suit, and call it a day (The Shark)

The Legal Field Is Diverse: Or, why being a television judge is the ideal professional choice. Does anyone have a good gimmick? (Virgin in the Volcano)

Declaration of Intent to Commit: A practical use for all that legal training, plus it keeps the boyfriend and the puppy in line (Who Invented Roses).

Your Paralegal Has a Better Job Than You: More doom & gloom from the Nobody School of Buttons & Lollipops. (Law is Cool)

Rarrr! But at least you're not getting eaten by a panda? (Now That I'm Awake)

Look for next week's roundup at the Legal Underground, and then back here again in 2 weeks. If you want to be added to the blog roll, but don't see yourself up there, shoot me an email and we'll get you on the wall of dis-honor.


Kisses!

Thanks for your patience

I am fiddling with the blog, obviously. As a paper-writing break.

10 Moments in the Life of the Turkey: Or, why Nobody Family Holidays are just Stellar.

1: Thanksgiving 2001: I drag my teenaged self out of bed and meander into the kitchen. My mother (the veterinarian) is dressed and pacing. She hands me a bunch of celery and a knife, and announces: "Your grandmother's dog is dying. The family's coming at 4. You'll want to have the bird out of the oven by 3:30." She leaves.

After some consultation with Joy of Cooking and my mother's old notes, I figure things out. Mom returns in time to make my gravy lumpy and critique the amount of garlic in the potatoes. I resolve to hold this over her head for the rest of my adult life. We feed 29 this year, a Nobody Family record.

I tout myself as a 16 year old Julia Child/Wunderkind, obviously.


2: Adding to the previous year's newfound skills, my mother the veterinarian teaches me to suture a turkey shut. I weird out my friends, and vow to never use turkey pins again. 4 year later, I will further prove I am my parent's child by flapping the turkey wings at my (formerly vegetarian) roommate, and using my best turkey-voice to communicate with her. She will threaten to have me committed. I will test her resolve by showing her the Turkey Dance.


3: Senior Year of high school: The Refugee Thanksgiving. My old teammate's grandmother sets fire to their family turkey, and we pull up picnic benches to accommodate their clan, cousins and all. In a minor miracle, no one is injured reaching for gravy, although one cousin has his life threatened when he attempts to get to the dip before Crazy Aunt Pat.
There are still leftovers.


4: Thanksgiving 2003, DC- My first Thanksgiving away from home, and my dad and brother come out to visit. Since we'll be hosting a group of 9 or so in our twee apartment, I go grocery shopping. I err on the side of "big," and take home a 26 pound turkey. We discover at the last minute that we don't have anything to serve or carve on, so we put the cookie sheets to creative uses.

We end up eating turkey for days. Apparently, when standing in the supermarket contemplating your poultry purchase, you should know: the standard ratio of bird to guest is 1 lb per person, and it will take approximately 10 days of eating nothing but turkey to get through the remaining 15 pounds of meat.


5: After Thanksgiving in DC, my dad discovers that, no, turkey isn't that hard to cook. He runs out and fills the freezer with 3 turkeys, bought on clearance. The cats are the big winners in this one, since everyone else is getting to total poultry burnout.


6: Thanksgiving 2006- Uncle Joe takes a domestic turn, and decides that he would like to make this year's turkey. The natives are skeptical: this is, after all, the man who has recently taken to referring to Martha Stewart as "his homegirl Martha."

The Tuesday before Thanksgiving, Uncle Joe decides that, just kidding, he does not have room for the entire Nobody Klan. Not to be deterred, he decides that he will just bring Thanksgiving, pre-carved, and re-heated, to us. My mother, the former matriach of Thanksgiving and great slayer of all family traditions, thinks this is a grand idea.

We feast on a deli platter. I am most seriously displeased.


7: One year after the Great Thanksgiving Outsourcing of 2006, I call my mother from NoSchool and issue an ultimatum. I absolutely, positively will not come home if she persists in the deli platter madness this year. She agrees, then confronts me in the airport with "Oh but honey! Your uncle just got the nicest turkey!"

The "nicest turkey" doesn't actually fit in Uncle Joes' oven, and is ill-suited for the 40 minute commute to our oven after he attempted to cut it in half, so we get a last minute turkey, and no one in the family has to face the fiery wrath of my turkey-making deprival. The turkey is not 26 pounds, but still manages to feed the 21 people who show up. 18 were expected, a pretty good statistic for Nobody Family events.


8: First Thanksgiving with Darwin. We turkey it up with The Family Darwin, and nothing is set on fire. Dinner is delicious and the Family Darwin is lovely, and I emerge with a new-found appreciation for cornbread stuffing.

Still, I'm left a little bewildered. Shouldn't I be wearing an apron and smacking the cousin's hands away from the gravy? Why isn't someone standing in the kitchen from 8am onward? Not to be deterred by this silly "under 10 people" and "not my kitchen" business, I attempt to kill the entire family with kindness/pies. Many, many, many pies: enough to fill Darwin's back seat, and still have some left over for Thanksgiving breakfast. I bat 100% on the crusts (thank you, Smitten Kitchen), but learn that the elusive "Sugar Pie" is better sung than baked.


9: Christmas '08: In an effort to be helpful, I preheat the oven for cinnamon rolls on Christmas morning. Also in an effort to be helpful, my dad has put the (plastic-wrapped) turkey in the oven, to keep it out of the way. Luckily, I smell something off before we manage to burn the house down- the plastic has started to melt, but hasn't actually melded to the turkey, so we make some recovery efforts.

Believe it or not, the turkey turns out delicious, and moist. I may be on to something. Also, we are apparently dwindling- only 20 at the table, and only 2 unexpected guests. Maybe they heard about the plastic incident?

No one gets food poisoning, and I did not ruin Christmas. Score one for the good guys.


10: Which brings us to #10: The Guilt Turkey, cooked for 6. The Guilt Turkey, because I didn't come home for Thanksgiving this year, and everyone feels like they have to make up for it- me, by having more family time, and my dad, by providing me with another turkey in my life.

The gravy turns out to be not stellar (I am an epic gravy maker), but I still get a theraputic turn at turkey-ing before heading back to school. Making a turkey dinner is terrific, because everyone oohs and aahs, but, kids? Holy mother of poultry, it is easy.

Nobody Presents: Guilt Turkey in 10(ish) easy steps:
1. Procure turkey. Do not buy a 26 pound turkey unless you really, really mean it.

2. After dethawing, put giblets and neck into a pot with garlic, onions, celery, and magic. Let simmer interminably (No. Really.)

3. Get the good stuff ready: Rub inside of turkey with garlic salt. Sautee garlic, onions, and celery according to stuffing package directions. Do not buy gross stuffing (Stovetop, I'm looking at you). Mrs. Cubbison's is delicious.

5. Stuff turkey (this is easiest to do in your pan). Put turkey in pan breast down.

6. Sigh heavily, like the long-suffering culinary soul you are. Make someone pour you a glass of wine. (Time is not an issue. You are a gourmand, and gourmands drink when they want, thankyouverymuch).

7. Dress that bird up: Give your turkey a butter rubdown (this is optional, but makes for amazing gravy). Gently pour a little chicken broth over the top, and sprinkle with poultry seasoning, garlic salt, and maybe marjoram. If the spirit moves you.

8. Make a tent out of tin foil to cover the turkey. Tight will steam it, looser will make the skin crispier. Take the tent off in the last 45 min of cooking.

9. Cook turkey & let rest for at least 30 min. Then, pick turkey up, and make someone else carve it.

10. Make Gravy: Pour off pan drippings into a gravy separator. If you don't have one, just try to skim most of the fat off the top.
You should have tasty brown drippings stuck to the bottom of your pan. Pour a small amount of hot water in, and whisk with a very small amount of flour, to form a paste. The more you get off the bottom of the pan, the better your gravy will be. Strain your giblet mix off, and reserve the broth. Add pan-dripping paste, and keep whisking. Mixture will thicken when it reaches a rolling boil, so add flour very, very slowly to thicken.
Add pepper, garlic, salt to taste. Smack cousin's hands away. You are the taste tester!

11. Bask in your awesome. Guilt trip favors out of your dinner guests for the hard, hard, work you've done. Make someone else do dishes.


See? Not that bad. Just don't ask me to make a sugar pie.

Law School Roundup #154

This week's Law School Roundup is up at the Legal Underground. Check it out for posts by law students current, aspiring, and recovering.

Check back here for next week's Roundup, same great place & time!

Resoloved: I've got a list, and I'm checking it twice

Inspired by my terrific wine friend, I have been brainstorming some goals for 2009. Not silly, boring goals like "be nicer" or "eat fewer Doritos" (I have enough improving to do in those areas that I can't be waiting for a new year to start to turn over a new leaf), but nice, finite, glad-to-say-I've-done-it goals.

So, I will join the plethora of New Years' Day posts to say: This is what I am going to get done in 2009:

1. Read the Joy of Cooking cover to cover: At the end of the year, I want to have a well-explored, thoroughly chicken-scratched, extremely useful, chicken broth sloshed cookbook to flip back through. (Side Note: The Joy of Cooking is amazing. Really. Want to know how to bone out a chicken? What "seared" actually means? Yeah. All the goodies of Google with the satisfying, tangible thunk of a sturdy cookbook. Also, it suffers less than the laptop when I slosh tomato sauce).

I am working up to the French Laundry cookbook, clearly. Look out, Roommate. Look out, Darwin.

2. Make two "good" meals a week: Read: eat my veggies. Make time to scrounge things that aren't preservative filled, canned good wonders. Man cannot subsist on Easy Mac alone...at least, not without turning orange and ballooning into a fatty, fatty, two-by-four.

3. Make time for Will Shortz: Make a good faith effort to do the Sunday Crossword every week. I get to feel smart and happy, the Times stays in business, everybody wins.

4. Stretch: I would like to be able to touch my toes, please. Nice things this will improve: bowling, back pain, inevitable decline into old age. Also, I'm going running. At least twice a week (I like attainable goals). Do you hear that, world? I am running.

5. Reinstate Self-Indulgence Wednesdays: Back when I was working 70+ hour weeks at Satan's School for the Clinically Unemployable, and my two charming assistants, Tweedle Dee and Tweedle OhMyGodDon'tDoThat were making life nearly unbearable, I plunked my foot down, had a tantrum, and started engaging in Self-Indulgence Wednesdays.

I chose Wednesday because it lurks in between Monday (fresh start/sheer dread) and Friday (utter relief/total exhaustion), just far enough away from each that you deserve a reward for getting through, but without a little something you might not make it through the week. Self-Indulgence Wednesdays are days to get pedicures, wear the hot shoes, eat nice cheese, watch America's Next Top Model, etc, etc, etc. This turns Wednesday from "hump day" into something to actually look forward to.

Let's face it, I'm in law school. I need things to look forward to, and Evidence or Fed Tax just aren't going to cut it.

6. Have Quarterlife Crisis: I like to embrace the inevitable. Obviously.


Now that I've blurted it out, Internet, you're going to have to hold me accountable. You're also going to have to suffer the consequences, so be ready for lots of angst-ridden recipes about inflexible chickens who don't know what they're doing with their lives, and would like a 6 letter synonym for coping (hint: Begins with "ch," made by ruminants, goes well on baguette).

Happy New Year kids! Enjoy those new gym memberships and study habits while they last!