Summer by the numbers

10: Number of suspense/mystery/fantasy/international thriller books I read (including Harry Potter)
5: Number of attorneys with whom I discussed Harry Potter DH in detail.
2: Number of attorneys who sought me out with follow up questions about Harry Potter.
2: Number of movies I saw in theaters.
1: Number of silly reality TV series I managed to get sucked into (Hell's Kitchen).
all: Number of episodes of "The Starter Wife" USA mini-series I TiVoed and watched.
4: Number of times Fabulous Associate suggested we coordinate outfits for various events.
1: Number of times we "coordinated" outfits (well, without any prior discussion, we all wore black and white) without telling Fabulous (who wore blue) in advance.
6: Number of truly classy fellow Summers I worked with.
10: Number of weeks I worked.
none: Number of times the job made me cry (huge improvement over teaching special ed.)
Amount of money earned: pretty effing sweet on paper. . . until you calculate the commute, clothes, morning tea, etc.
1: Number of projects completed that produced value will outlast my tenure there.
zero: Number of times a day I checked my personal email while at work (not due to lack of trying . . . bastards block all webmail)
1: Number of witness preps I got to watch.
1: Number of times I saw a lawyer make someone cry.
1: Number of presentations about my summer made to BigWigMugwumps
1: Number of times a BigWigMugwump interrupted me to call me out on a missatement
2: Number of flattering pictures taken of me by Fabulous, our resident shutterbug.
87: Number of unflattering pictures I am trying to have burned form everyone's harddrive.
1: Number of baseball games seen from a box suite.
1: Number of team-building run-around-and-be-silly events
3: Number of plays/musicals/museum cultural events
8: Number of schmooze and booze events
10: Number of nights I came home too late to see Clownfish.
2: Number of times Bullshark got mad at me because event ran later than he expected and I didn't call.
2: Number of times Bullshark got sent to the drycleaners with office clothes



* Hat tip to the Lawbitches, [Useless Dicta], and others who have done their Summer by the Numbers post.

I MADE LAW REVIEW

That is all.

With a bullet

Hasn't been a substantive post here in a while as I too have succumbed to the busyness of the end of summer. So here's what's been going on:

• Last day of summer job is Friday. A summer "by the numbers" is coming later this week or early next. Or never.
• First day of 2L is Monday.
• This sucks.
• I have not bought books yet and if any of my professors think I am reading an assignment for the first day with all I have going on this week, they're high.
• No, I haven't heard from Law Review yet. Think I should hear next week.
• I haven't heard back from any firms to whom I've submitted resumes for OCI, but then no one has yet . . . way to go [Myschool].
• We took Clownfish to a much bigger museum than our local one to see more dinosaurs. I think he would ahve liked it better if it had been less crowded, if he'd had his nap, and if we would have let him run loose to explore at his own speed. But it was ok.
• Clownfish is staying at Grandma's this week, so Bullshark and I went to the movies last night.
• Bourne Ultimatum does suffer from a distinct lack of ultimatums (hat tip Zuska and Ismael for beating me to that observation). It was a good movie but there was one part that just struck me as totally unbelievable. . . the scene with the East River. Oh, no, not a that part -- I am willing to suspend incredulity for the plot . . . I mean the fact that anything in the East River was visible at more than 6 inches.

Ok, that's about that.

Oh, its Bullshark's birthday tomorrow and I'll be at a firm event until late, so I guess he's having a disappointing end of summer too.

The WWII Theory of Parenting

A lawyer at my Summerjob proceeded to share his thoughts on parenting.

Apparently, he views his two-year-old as Hitler and thinks his wife is Chamberlain . . . she's too willing to appease. He wants to tell his wife: Dammit, you have to stop giving into him. Poland is not inconsequential, its just the first step. Next thing you know he'll be marching into downtown Paris and then where are we gonna be?

I asked him where he saw himself in this picture . . . he at varying points compared himself to Churchill and Stalingrad.

This seemed a lot more insightful at a cocktail party last night . . . in the sober light of day typed on the blog . . . not so much.

Especially if your two year old isn't committing genocide.

Impatient

I was never a terribly impatient person. I mean, when I am stuck in traffic and running late and my kid is crying in the back seat, sure, I get edgy. But law school has made me impatient about the kinds of things that I feel I should just be willing to roll with.

Before school, I wanted my schedule *right now.*
After first semester, I wanted my grades *right now.*
After second semester, because grades were somewhat depressing, I wanted my rank *right now.*

Now: I want the damn results from the write-on. RIGHT NOW.

*sigh*

Sometimes I hate what law school has done to me. Or revealed about me. Or whatever.

I have a big mouth

I've been working on my tendency to jump in and fill awkward silences. I've been working on my tendency to talk too much, period. Clearly, I fell off the wagon.

Breakfast with Big Boss talking about a program he was thinking of implementing in the near future. I had heard of a program similar to the one he was proposing had already been done successfully somewhere else and piped up -- thinking that information would be helpful, I shared that I thought it would catch on. Apparently he thought it was helpful -- he wanted waaaay more detail than I was able to provide. I admitted "had heard" about a program just like he was describing in a casual conversation with someone. In passing. I was intrigued which is why it stayed with me. Big Boss asked me to follow-up. I said I would contact my friend to get more info or a contact person or a company name. Something.

I said that because I thought the conversation was with a law school classmate. I checked with her. I was wrong.

The conversation definitely occurred this summer. Wracking my brain, I think I've narrowed it down to a face. It was a person whom I am unlikely to see again, don't know her last name, pretty unsure of her first name, and have no way of following up with.

So now I have to explain to Big Boss that I am a moron.

There aren't enough hours in a day off

I took today off from SummerJob because the write-on deadline wasn't until a few hours ago and I had so much other stuff to do that just did not get done this weekend. Clownfish and Bullshark came back Sunday night and I spent very little time with them. In fact its probably been two weeks since I've spent any real time with them both together.

So my mission for today was:

1. Finish write-on and turn in.
2. Do laundry.
3. Pick up dry cleaning.
4. Get my nails done (desparate need here).
5. Clean up around the house.
6. Spend evening with family, maybe pick up Clownfish early from school (I am ever an optimist after all).
7. Maybe . . . maybe peek at the first chapter of Harry Potter.

What I accomplished today:

1. Finish write-on and turn in.

Right on

I left work early. I have picked up the packet. I made some copies. I have stocked up on caffeine and semi-nutritious food. Clownfish and Bullshark are out of town til Monday.

And I just got an email telling me I got the highest grade in the section (not just in my little class) on my memo in Legal Skills last semester -- (which surprised me because my grade in the class would lead me to beleive there was at least one higher paper, if not more.)

Write on competition: pwned, bitch.



(Gulp... I hope. I'm gonna keep a file so I can "live blog" the nightmare, er, experience.)

In my head

In my head there are blog posts that will not be written.

There is one about daring fashion choices -- I'm talking to you classy backless halter wearer on my commute ... you clearly don't care that we can see the flab rolls, and you really should consider wearing different undergarments with that top.

There is a post about a lunch & learn that involves seafood and acronyms and a Britney Spears solo.

There is one about meeting a Very Important Person for the first time, one who clearly had me confused with someone else because he kept saying things like "And I of course know where you go to school," but in a way that implied it was like Harfurd and not my actual school. And he was confused when someone else said my name.

But of course, I don't blog about work club. So the world will just have to live without.

4th of July randomness

I haven't seen any fireworks yet this year. And I probably won't see any tonight.

My neighbors really had a blast setting off illegal-loud-banging-firecrackers 12 feet from my sleeping child's window last night. Bastards.

One of the first blogs I read before I started law school is back. She was writing about the Bar then. She is writing about her life now. A lot can happen in a year, and she has one of my favorite voices in the sphere. Welcome back WWFD.

I am linking also to an old post of hers because it is essential that I prepare to be ignored during OCI.

Speaking of OCI, my fellow summers from Ivy League Law are getting ready for OCI by preparing spreadsheets during their downtime. Huge, detailed spreadsheets. I hear them muttering about prestige ratings and number of partners devoted to x practice and billables and minimum GPAs. Since there are many fewer firms coming to my school, and even fewer that I might actually be interested in, I don't think I need a spreadsheet. Back of an envelope should do just fine.

I like my summer job more than I thought I would but I am pretty sure I would not dig it or the commute every day if it were my real life. I had that thought this morning while blissfully not commuting.

Literally.

Sarchasm: The abyss between the creator of witticisms and the intended recipient who does not find the humor in it.

* * *

There was an email-go-round at work among the Summers today, trying to decide between two profferred "mandatory fun" activities. There was some debate, but everyone seemed to agree on one thing -- we all wanted to go to the same event, whichever we chose. And no one really wanted to be the one to commit. It was all variations on "I'll do whatever you all want to do."

One of the Summers suggested setting up a conference call to settle the issue. Since I was scheduled to be elsewhere, I emailed (just him) and said I couldn't be on the call but was leaning toward Activity B.

He replied and kindly told me he was kidding.

Everyone else obviously got the sarcasm.

I read the email literally.

I'm a dork.

Work Club

A snippet from "work club." I imagine my summer job looks quite a bit like this from the other side.

* Re-printed without Scott Adam's permission, but since I am not making any money on this blog, I highly doubt he will mind.

Billing time

Sent to me by a fellow summer associate. . . ahh, legal humor.

Zoo haiku

Giraffes, elephants, tigers
Happy pre-schooler
Tired parents drink much wine

Work sucks

Oh, the job is ok. The people are nice. I don't work anywhere near the a--hole mentioned in the last post and doubt I'll ever see him again.

But I hadn't seen Clownfish since Saturday.

And I only saw him for an hour tonight.

I knew this is what my summer would be like, and figured I could handle it for a few weeks... but less than a week in, and I miss my boys.

Summer a--hole

I don't mean this to be too personal . . . but don't you feel like you're missing out by not having gone to an Ivy League school? I mean when I interview, its like they already know I have the smarts, they just want to see if I'm a good fit. I'll bet its different for you. Like do they quiz you?

What I should have said: Hey asshole, look around. We've got the same summer job, same salary. So blow it out your ass.

What I did say: At least I won't be crippled with student loan debt and have the freedom to pursue the legal career of my choice . . . whatever that may be.

Summer job posting policy

As a pre-L, I was annoyed when I read law student blogs who wouldn't describe their summer jobs. "How am I supposed to learn anything if you're too scared of Big Brother to divulge even the tiniest details?" I thought.

I get it now. The first rule of Fight Club -- you do NOT talk about Fight Club. Divine Angst nailed it here. Will I able to stick to it? We'll see.

I am nervous as I chose a summer job in a legal field well outside my comfort zone.

I am nervous because I've never worked in a corporate environment.

I am nervous because I always have a nagging sense that I am a giant fraud and everyone is going to see through that.

Blog note: The almost daily posting of the last few weeks will likely to give way to a more sparse posting schedule, for which I apologize in advance . . . I know, you're broken up about it. You really wanted potty training stories to get you through the summer, right?

Law Review Write On

Ok, it is becoming increasingly clear I am going to have to do the write-on competition in July. The top half of the class gets invited to write on, and I'll definitely land there, just not in the top [miniscule] percent that walks on. Sh*t.

Frequent Citations, LawDawg, and others have described the write on process at their schools -- a closed memo or note and a Bluebooking assignment. They describe a process that takes about a week.

We get a weekend to do the same thing. As in pick up Friday night, drop off Monday morning at something like 7:00 a.m. weekend.


Hmmm... law review as a suicide pact.


Anyway, any others care to share their write-on experience, advice, or share links to blog posts of others who have successfully written on?

Not quite over it

I still have post-exam issues. Since this is a law student blog... sometimes... I figured I'd vent a little.

I am trying to be "over it," you know? I can't do anymore than I did... I can't change what happened exam week... I can't change what happened this semester. I can't change that I didn't work as hard as maybe I could have. I know I didn't do what I know I am capable of, and it makes me angry at myself, and alternatively, at "the system."

A little piece of me is Hermione Granger, who got top marks in all but one subject, and was disappointed. She defined herself in part by her ability to succeed academically. I thought I had gotten all of that adolescent bullshit out of my system -- I'm over 30 years old. I've got a child who is thriving and a husband who loves me. I've survived more in the last ten years than the scared, geeky, desperate for approval adolescent I was could ever have contemplated.

And yet when I got my Property and Civ Pro grades, I felt a stab of disappointment, and my first thought, unbidden and shameful, was "my parents are not going to be proud of me."

So, post-adolescent angst is part of the reason I am not quite over it. But only part.

I also want the top grades because I wanted to grade onto Law Review to avoid the nightmare of the write-on competition. That's right -- I wanted high marks because I am lazy.

The question becomes then: why? Why want Law Review? I know I probably won't want to work for a huge BigLaw firm . . . despite the fact I am going to be doing just that this summer. Who knows, maybe I'll love it.

I guess I want it -- the good grades, Law Review -- because I'd hate for my opportunities to be limited simply because I didn't do it.

So, there it is, more post-exam angst. I hope for your sake as well as mine that the rest of the grades get released soon (12 credits still in play), just so I can stop obsessing and move on to more interesting blog topics.

Dearth of details

How I got my summer job... with as few details as possible.

We had a mini-OCI for 1Ls -- one company, 40+ resumes, 12 interviews. Wait. Wait some more. Ask everyone involved -- and we know who we are because we wore suits the same day and its a small day section -- have you heard? There was no guarantee any of us would get an offer, though we were pretty sure that since they interviewed at the school, one of us would. 1 in 12. Not bad odds, considering its a huge opportunity. Ask each other everyday -- have you heard yet? Deadline passes.

I heard.

I almost turned it down [see last post], but I came to my senses.

I originally entitled this post "there is no competition in law school." (shout out law bitches!) I had some stories about the aftermath of my accepting this position. Viewed objectively, they may not mean much. Viewed collectively and in context, there are some pissed off people -- and some of them are just friends with someone who didn't get the job.

Anyway, forget that, right? I took a "midterm" today -- 1/3 of my grade in Con Law. Disastrous. So I am actually going to a party tonight because Bullshark has agreed to stay home and watch the Clownfish while I drink away the pain. Most excellent.