Dad: So how's the summer job going?
Me: You know how I have always said I really like going to law school but wasn't so sure I would like being a lawyer?
Dad: Yeah . . .
Me: I kinda like being a lawyer.
Dad: Ah . . . I was afraid of that.
I am amazed at the pace I am working this summer. I keep getting mini-research assignments -- the kind that can be answered with short 3-5 page memos and completed in about four hours. In between, I am working on a motion I have to have done by close-of-business today. As a result I have already seen quite a few areas of law -- including franchise law, premises liability, medicare/medicaid, municipal contract damages. And I've worked at every level of a case -- causes of action for a potential client, information for settlement negotiations, litigation in the discovery phase. You get the idea.
I am having a helluva good time.
Today was Clownfish's first tee-ball game (as opposed to practice):
My Administative Law class has an unspoken theme: What Would Justice Scalia Do?
I'm thinking of having rubber bracelets made up with WWJSD printed on them to distribute before the exam. Of course I won't do this because it requires more initiative than I have right now.
Also, I read a case today that could fairly be boiled down to "We're deferring to the agency cuz this stuff is too hard."
Scalia got cranky in the dissent.
I got one.
Mid-sized firm that does exactly the kind of law I hope to practice. I anticipate a really good summer. And on the off chance I'm miserable, I have learned something else about what I don't want to do, which is important in itself. So either way, I win.
I got my resume read by reaching out to a recent-ish alum, who it turned out was on the hiring committee. The alum did some checking up on me -- calling friends of his who are friends of mine and my externship. I guess it helped.
And because I don't talk about Work Club, you probably won't hear more details than that.
But I am happy.
A friend told me yesterday
As a lawyer, you'll spend a lot of time preparing for things that never
happen.
I don't do "trendy," so I never considered even looking at buying a pair of Ugg boots.
I had no idea what I was missing.
I got the most uggsome boots from my sister in law for Christmas.
They're comfy and warm and soft and I want to live in them for the whole winter. I went out on a bitter cold bluserty day, bundled in layers with hat and scarf, and the only parts of me that wasn't frigid were my toasty feet.
Click to see the soft prettyness; I have the darker brown.
I heart my Uggs.
My house at bedtime:
Me: Ok, let me tuck you in. Get Ian (*the Tiger*) next to you.
Clownfish: No, Mommy Ian doesn't want any blankets.
Me: Ummm, ok (*this being a change from the usual*) Why?
Clownfish: Because tigers have fur. They don't need blankets.
Next thing you know, I am going to have to make the Tiger special lunches and watch out for slightly twisted snow sculptures on the lawn (his oeuvre was monochromatic).
My kid is turning into Calvin.
Or: Why Mommy is tired this morning.
So, my Tax class goes to 10:00 pm on Tuesdays. I come home wired and unable to fall sleep, but I did eventually sleep... maybe 1:30? Not bad... if I can sleep til 6:30 I should be fine.
5:40am. Mommy help me! Mommy help me! (This is what Clownfish says every morning even though its been a long time since he's needed actual help getting out of his bed.)
5:41. Convince Clownfish its too dark and too early to get up, and why doesn't he come snuggle with Mommy for 20 minutes. Since I know from experience that sleep won't actually happen and he'll ask me every 36 seconds if its been 20 minutes yet, I show him the clock bedside.
"When the clock says six-oh-oh, we'll get up."
For the next twenty minutes, I had non-stop updates. I cannot emphasize the non-stop enough.
It's 5-4-4. Mommy. There are two fours. Four four. Five four four. Did you see that Mommy? There are two fives. There is a five next to the mark and another five. I am being patient I am waiting for the six. I can count to five. One-two-three-four-five. Hey Mommy Look A SIX a SIX. No, its not six-oh-oh. There are no zeroes Mommy. Its 5-4-6.
The Weekly MILS (Moms In Law School) Roundup** is the brainchild of Saramel. It is hosted on a rotating basis at the Reasonable Expectations, PT-LawMom, and A Little Fish in Law School blogs and is usually posted no later than Monday morning (the plan, of course, being a Sunday post).
Next week, back to Reasonable Expectations.
This week, the Billy Joel Song Edition:
To all the MILS:
Slow down, you're doing fine, you can't be everything you want to be before your time...
...
And you know that when the truth is told that you can get what you want or you can just get old.-- Vienna, Billy Joel
*Yes, I heard Billy Joel sing this as a duet with Elton John so it counts. *pbbbbbth*
**Hat tip as always to the original Law School Roundup.
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?
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?
My name is Butterflyfish, and I watched American Idol this season. I didn't blog about it weekly because I had other stuff going on... but I also hang my head in shame for watching this tripe.
My faves were eliminated early on, victims of the Sanjaya nightmare -- how Chris and Phil managed to stick past Gina and the Chris-who-looked-like-Jack-Osborne is beyond me. Not that any of the aforementioned could sing, but hell, I can't sing either. I like seeing mediocre singers on television "reality" shows. Nice mindless diversion from life. Plus, TiVo allows me to skip anything not entertaining -- meaning an hour of Idol took about 20 minutes.
I, like others, found Melinda to be too talented for the show, and too good to be entertaining -- she needed to be eliminated so she could go have a nice non-pop career. Maybe Broadway, but I see her releasing a gospel-soul kind of album that I'll never buy. If she did a cover album of old Whitney Houston songs, maybe. Girl has got pipes.
So: Jordin or Blake?
First, I am a little disgusted with the hype for the finals this year. It seems more obnoxious than usual... like when Jay Leno has a line-up of not-A-list guests, he seems even more excited about them. "Ladies and Gentlemen, Kathy Griffin!!!!!!!!" I think they're trying to get more people to watch, when everyone knows this is not a clash of the titans finale. Face it, AI -- those who were going to watch, will. They've been watching at least sporadically all season. Those who weren't going to watch will stay away from Fox like it had leprosy. So, stop it.
I don't vote. I just never have. Feels like the fix is in anyway. I fully expect Jordin to take it. She nailed "Broken Wing," which is one of my favoriate ballads, and the terrible song-contest-winner-finale song was much more her style than Blake's. But, although he was pretty awful last night, I am a Blake fan -- ill-chosen beatboxing moments, inability to sing a high note cleanly, bad Maroon 5 impersonations and all.
I'd be more likely to download one of his singles.
So I'll at least be watching the last five minutes of the finale tonight. Any other AI fans care to come out of the closet?
(Zuska is already out, but she has pre-teen girls in the house. I don't really have an excuse except I like to watch the train wreck of auditions, and this season ... and much of last season dammit... I kind of kept watching.)
The trees are blooming near my school... from a distance they look lovely, tall and straight with small white flowers. Makes for some lovely recruitment posters.
But from them emanates an stench -- the word rancid doesn't cover it.
The rest of the post, I plan to use some descriptive language that is a bit out of character for the blog, but it best describes the foulness that is these trees. If you're easily offended, well, too bad.
Note: I am using st*rs in some of the words to minimize the blog hits for searchers of p*rn, not because of any prudish sensibilities on my part.
1LGirl#1: I'm going out for a smoke by the sk*nky v*gina trees. Its like a bad day at the gynocologist office out there.
Later, 1LGirl#2, not privy to that comment: Has anyone noticed those trees outside smell like semen?
#1Girl#1: What the hell kind of guys you been with?
1LGuy#1: I always thought they smelled like rotting fish.
Girl#1: I thought they smelled like sk*nky v*g.
Girl#2: No, much more like used condom.
Girl#1: Well, you would know.
Girl#2: And I guess that means you know all about sk*nky v*g?
Girl#1: Totally. I spent a lot of time in girls locker rooms.
So what kind of trees are they? Having to agree with the accuracy of #1's description, I found out by googling "trees with white flowers smell like v*gina."
Turns out, all three were right: Urban Dictionary, "semen tree":
Another name for the Bradford Pear, and ornamental pear tree. Characterized by greenish-white flowers which smell like a cross between old semen, dirty v*gina, and rotting fried shrimp. Common throughout the South, these trees are pleasantly located near eateries and other fine establishments.
I am a product of Catholic education. I wore wool skirts that itched when it was hot, and knee high socks in green and blue and brown (depending on the year) and penny-loafers with nickels in the slots because I was such a rebel... just like everyone else. 13 years of that. To this day I shun plaid because I figured a person can only wear so much of it in one lifetime and I met my quota by age 10.
I learned about limbo -- the place where unbaptized babies go when they die -- and it made me sad. Then I learned that there was no limbo and that baptism was a rite of initiation and removed the stain of original sin but that stain alone did not bar one from heaven (and something about free will and such... I wasn't paying too close attention that day, I guess).
And I was as ok as one can be with such a doctrine... kind of how one resolves faith with evolution. At some point you recognize certain biblical stories are allegorical and not "gospel" (as it were). And you move on.
So I was shocked to discover that limbo is alive and kicking, and that the Pope taking any kind of stand on it was newsworthy. And that limbo has suddenly become part of the abortion debate. Or maybe not so suddenly, its just I'm that out of touch with my faith... or rather that out of step with The Church.
See a news story about it here.
At least my first thought wasn’t, “Hey, isn’t the limbo a dance? How low can you go?”
I didn't faint or puke.
I didn't cry and leave the room.
I didn't get all belligerent with the judges.
I didn't wow them so much I got an instant job offer upon graduation.
My partner didn't do any of those things either.
The worst part was the five minutes before we entered the room -- a few stupid butterflies got lost and found their way into my tummy.
I got some nice feedback, as did my partner. And then I went home. Didn't even feel the need to get drunk...
Basically, I don't have a "my first oral argument" war story I can tell my grand kids about. Too bad, because I think its one of those staple stories in the arsenal of all law professors. That's ok, I have time. I can make up something good before I become a law prof.
Alternate title: Why I am reconsidering my desire to be on a journal next year.
Journal Editor 1 to Journal Editor 2: I wanted to say to him, "Hey asswipe, did you know that when you have a cite in a footnote, you put a period at the end of that? I mean do you even OWN a Bluebook? Because I'll buy you one with my own money."
If we have to be that upset about punctuation, well... things that make you go hmm.....
I take this opportunity to quote a classmate:
"I look forward to a world where I am judged, not by my placement of commas, but by the content of my brief."
Ah, it has begun. Clownfish, age 2 years six months, has entered the WHY phase.
BFF: "Hold my hand, its icy."
CF: "Why?"
BFF: "Ice is very slippery. There is ice on the ground because it has been very cold."
CF: "Why?"
BFF: "Because its winter?"
CF: "Why?"
BFF: "Well, the tilt of the earth's axis relative to its orbital plane has a dramatic effect on the weather. The Earth is tilted at an angle of 23°27' (23 degrees 27 minutes) to the plane of its orbit, and this causes different latitudes on the Earth to directly face the Sun as the Earth moves through its orbit. When it is winter here, the Southern Hemisphere faces the Sun more directly and thus experiences warmer temperatures than the Northern Hemisphere, where we live." (source: Wikipedia)
CF: "Why?"
BFF: *sigh*
... begins with finding this conversation amusing.
Scene: Two 1Ls in the law cafeteria, one of whom is sitting in the other's recently vacated seat.
“Sorry, my seat now. Statute of limitations on Cafe seats is 10 minutes.”
“Well, my jacket was still there so, I was in constructive possession.”
“Nah, the jacket isn’t enough. My possession is open, notorious, and hostile. You sat on your rights too long … and the toilet.”
“Yeah, well if your hostility is construed subjectively, you lose. You know that’s my jacket and knew I was coming back, so you weren’t possessing the seat under a claim of right.”
“Good thing we follow the Connecticut rule.”
I kinda hate myself for finding this funny.
Everybody poops, right?
So did Clownfish.
In the potty.
For the first time.
While at daycare.
One of those childhood milestones that Mommies everywhere love. We talk about it with other Mommies, like the first smile that *we swear* wasn't gas, and the first spontaneously said "I love you." We dread it because its another step towards "I don't need you as much anymore."
And I missed it.
Seems like a stupid thing to feel a little sad about, huh?
Not like it isn't going to happen again hundreds of times in his childhood.
Cuz everybody poops.
Right...
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Check out the other blog to which I contribute... its a collection of advice for Pre-Ls and 1Ls by those of us who survived: What I Wish I would Have Known
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