Tuesday, August 07, 2007

I've Moved!

I've graduated from Blogger to WordPress. You can now find me at: http://www.lawschooltransplant.com.

Thanks to Anonymous Boyfriend for helping me with the transition and working so hard to pimp my blog.

Also, any problems with the outline file extensions should be fixed. You can find Parts II and III of my Outline Extravaganza over at my new site!

Thursday, August 02, 2007

Outline Extravaganza, Part I

Here are some 1L/core class outlines for all of you newbies who will be taking the plunge into law school over the next few weeks, if you weren't smart enough to run away before you plunked down a seat deposit.

Use and distribute them freely, but trust me, your professors are not full of bullshit (for once) when they tell you making your own outline is an important part of learning this stuff, which you won't ever see again. Until the bar exam.

Without further adieu, here they are!

Note: These outlines are all in Word 2007 format.

Civil Procedure I
Civil Procedure II

Contracts I
Contracts II

Criminal Law

Constitutional Law I

Property I (& a chart of rules for estates in land)
Property II

Torts I
Torts II

Stay tuned for: Constitutional Law II, Evidence, U.C.C. Article 9 (Secured Transactions), Trusts & Estates, and other equally fun topics.

Sunday, July 01, 2007

The Mother of All Fuckups.

Well, I am officially retarded, y'all. I missed the motherfucking deadline to take the bar exam on my laptop.

Yes, you read that right. I will be handwriting the essay portion of the bar exam. Six freaking hours of essay goodness to be scrawled out on paper in my pseudo-legible left-handed scribble.

I swore the deadline to register for the software was the 29th, when in fact the deadline to register was the 26th and the deadline to have all steps of the process completed was the 29th. So when I went to register for the software on the 28th, I was duly informed that registration had been closed. A double check of the State Bar rules confirmed my worst fears. Awesome. Just awesome.

First I panicked. Then I cried. Then I thought about not taking the bar at all in July.

But, after some reflection, I decided to sack up (figuratively, people) and go ahead and take the fucking thing. At least that way, if I do pass, I will have even more reason to feel good about it. Anonymous Boyfriend, being the rational and analytical type that he is, made several good points. First, the fees have been paid and are non-refundable. Second, this test is administered by the government, so there is no way they can make it prejudicial to those who do not have the means to take it on an expensive piece of equipment. Finally, people have been taking – and passing – the bar exam for years and years before computers were allowed.

Bead Freak, who is voluntarily handwriting the bar, made another good point: Approximately 10% of the people who pay the laptop fee end up having to handwrite halfway through because the crappy software used by the State Bar malfunctions.

Besides, either I know this shit, or I don't. Being able to barf more words out onto the page by virtue of being able to type eighty words a minute isn't going to help my cause if I don't know what I'm talking about. The only part that really worries me significantly is the MPT, which is generally pretty long and on a very strict timeline.

I suppose if this is the worst thing that happens to me as a lawyer or a soon-to-be lawyer, I'm in okay shape. Or so I keep trying to tell myself.

And hey, this might be the last time I get away with missing a deadline and not get sued for malpractice.

Wednesday, June 20, 2007

Eight Days a Week

I'm not sure how some of y'all (and you know who you are) are consistently putting in ten hours a day studying for the bar. It is a struggle for me to get in a good eight-hour day, and ten hours turns me into a brain-dead, drooling mess.

On Monday, I diligently studied all day long – MBE questions all morning, break in the afternoon, state material at night until Starbucks closed at 11 (seriously, most of the baristas now know me by name AND drink: "Hi LST! Iced grande non-fat caramel macchiato?"). And by the end of the day, Anonymous Boyfriend had to scrape me off the floor with a spatula.

Perhaps bar review is just another weed-out process before we actually enter the profession, and my current ineptness at being able to deal with it for long periods of time each day is indicative of my future ineptness at being able to sit at an office doing document review or writing briefs for long periods of time. This definitely solidifies my notion that I am not cut out for life at a big law firm. But, given the choice, I'd definitely rather have only a moderately-priced sports car and a life outside of work than a Maserati that only gets driven to and from a high-rise parking deck.

Yesterday, I took it easy, and cut back to about seven hours, despite my reservations in doing so. I was still productive, but had a lingering nagging feeling that I still wasn't doing enough.

This morning, I awoke to a rather helpful e-mail from my essay-slaughtering, red-pen-wielding MicroMash mentor that suggested setting a schedule of six to eight hours of studying a day, for six days a week, which seems much more manageable than trying to cram in those extra two or three hours in the evenings. Though I do like my weekends. Yes, I definitely have a future in government employment and I am so looking forward to my clerkship, which will be a nine-to-five cake-walk compared to this crap.

Perhaps the major challenge for me is mastering a couple of concepts each week, yet still having to retain them while I have to master additional concepts the following week.

Any suggestions you fellow bar-studiers have for dealing with my time more effectively and efficiently would be greatly welcome. I set a schedule each week, and stick to it pretty well. I take a break in the middle of the day and try to go for a run everyday as well. I'm just not sure where the disconnect is.

Ah, I already miss the good ol' law school days of open-book exams and rampant grade inflation.

Friday, June 15, 2007

A Girl Walks Into a Bar... and Says, "Ouch!"

Graduation is over, vacation is done, and now it’s time to put my nose to the grindstone for that Last Big Test. The State Bar finally issued my certification, my transcripts are ordered and my fees have been paid. Now all I have to do is pass the fucking thing, because God knows I do not want to go through this rigmarole again. And that is proving to be no small task.

Most of my classmates are doing the BarBri bar review program, which involves watching videotaped lectures and filling in the blanks of pre-printed outlines as you follow along with the videos. I did the one-day BarBri course when I took the MPRE last year, and spent the entire time searching the room for a sharp instrument with which to end my misery. I can’t even imagine what the whole bar review course is like. Thanks, I think I’d rather have a six-week-long root canal.

Being the maverick I am, I decided earlier in the spring to do MicroMash, a sort of do-it-yourself bar review, for a variety of reasons, the primary one being my aforementioned aversion to hours and hours of menial blank-filling each day. It’s also significantly cheaper than BarBri, and lets me study from the comfort of my local Starbucks. I also don’t have to listen to the some of the assholes I went to school with -- and I am certain they remained assholes after graduation -- talk about just how many MBE questions they did the night before and how they have already mastered Commercial Paper, when I don’t even know what the hell a Commercial Paper is (I really thought it was referring to the New York Times, but that is apparently not the case).

It was a little disquieting, however, to have a box of books just dumped on my doorstep (motivation not included) with no one to hold my hand or tell me what to do. To its credit, the program is fairly well-guided, with software to work on the MBE portion and weekly state-specific law assignments that I am supposed to read, as well as an essay question that I complete each week and e-mail to a lawyer mentor, who will then redline it and return it with a multitude of confidence-instilling comments about my bright future as the most well-educated barista at the aforementioned Starbucks.

If law school didn’t serve as a sufficient reminder of just how much you don’t know, then bar review does a phenomenal job of displaying your incompetence about the law, despite having suffered through three full years of Socratially-inflicted misery. Things I thought I learned during law school I find myself having to re-learn again and again. I have been reduced to making flashcards, which Anonymous Boyfriend patiently quizzes me on, then offers helpful hints after observing my vacant look, then eventually reads me the answer after I get it 23% correct.

It’s basically like study week during finals. Except it never ends. And there are things you’ve never learned before that you have a week to figure out. And you don’t even know if they are going to be on the test, but you just pray they won’t be and that it paid off to risk only half-assedly learning the minutiae of limited liability partnerships and adoption procedures in order to be able to eat once in a while.

Wish me luck, y’all. I’m gonna need it.

Sunday, June 03, 2007

They Actually Let Me Out of Here!

Though belated, I thought it fitting to post a bit about graduation. The whole weekend was mostly a whirlwind, due partly to all the people coming into town and events going on, but mostly to the massive quantities of alcohol I consumed over the course of 48 hours.

Aside from stressing about cleaning my house and making sure all my guests had breakfast and hot water for showers, the foremost concern in my mind was not falling when I crossed the stage in my mammoth stiletto heels (hey, a girl's gotta have cute shoes to balance out the ridiculous-looking graduation attire). This should come as no surprise to most of you, being as I am a walking calamity and all.

As we lined up to receive our symbolic empty diploma tubes that represent three years of our lives gone and thousands of dollars in debt to be paid over the next twenty years, I became increasingly nervous about the prospect of face-planting in front of hundreds of people. First I thought I was going to pee myself. Then I thought I might throw up. Falling would not be something I could live down. No one would remember that I graduated from law school; no, they would remember that I fell on my face and got a plywood splinter in my forehead while graduating from law school.

Here is photographic evidence that I successfully crossed the stage, received my meaningless tube, shook no less than half a dozen hands while attempting to smile, all the while NOT falling:

A momentous occasion, y'all.

A justice from the state supreme court spoke about things we should keep in mind as we enter the legal profession, like the importance of character, morals, a sense of humor, and some other stuff that I don't remember because I dozed off (but I'm pretty certain involved an eightball of cocaine).

The highlight of the ceremony, however, was our class president's speech. This is the same guy who emcee'd the Law Revue wearing drag and delivered a rousing version of "Copacabana" and was voted Most Likely to Be Involved in a Sex Scandal While Running for Office. Needless to say, his speech was highly entertaining and peppered with quotes from "Legally Blonde" and remarks on recent national tragedies, namely the recent season of "American Idol." Being that this is the Deep South and approximately half of the members of the audience were clad in at least one item of seersucker, I am certain that Preston caused at least five strokes and/or heart attacks. I approve wholeheartedly.

And now that I'm officially done with law school, I have to prepare for the bar exam, which is a mere seven weeks away. In the meantime, I'll wait patiently for the university to send me my $90,000 piece of wall candy.

And the bitch of it all is, even though I suffered through three years of law school and managed by some miracle to graduate, I'm still not a lawyer -- I'm just a slacker with a J.D.

Monday, April 02, 2007

Spring Fever.

So, spring has arrived here in the Deep South and with it comes a renewed sense of apathy and absolute lack of motivation, which explains both my lack of blog posts recently as well as my inability to bring myself to do anything school-related other than the bare minimum.

It's a good day when I go to class, and a great day if I actually manage to do most or all of the reading before class actually starts. I have nary an outline to show for the semester and the two papers that I have to write this semester are still just a figment of my uninspired imagination.

As the weather gets warmer and sunnier, the patios of the downtown bars -- not-so-coincidentally located a mere block or so from the law school -- suddenly become more alluring. Consequently, my sharp decline in motivation is directly correlated with an increase in beer consumption on warm, sunny patios. I justify it by reflecting back on the wise words of Professor Entertainment-and-a-half. As a matter of fact, I have taken her at her word and not bothered to show up for Entertainment Law in weeks.

Strangely enough, I have seen the 3L apathy shared by myself and my comrades spread to the 2L class like an insidious infectious disease that eats your brain and gives you the overwhelming desire to drink massive amounts of booze and wake up in a gutter.

Now, I'm sort of baffled about this because 2L's just aren't allowed to share in our sloth and apathy. They still have to care. It's sort of like a rite of passage where you are not allowed to completely let yourself go until spring semester of your last year. After all, law school is essentially just a three-year hazing process. Except, the reward is nothing more than a pretty piece of paper and a staggering amount of debt.

As the real world of nine-to-five jobs and Ann Taylor suits draws frightening near, I have decided to embrace my apathy and revel in spring fever. After all, when else in my life will I be able to sleep in the middle of the afternoon, not show up if I just don't want to, and drink a bottle and a half of wine on a weeknight?

Monday, March 12, 2007

Baby Phobia.

My dear friend Kim finally had her baby the other day. A couple hours after she got home from the doctor with orders to get ready to go to the hospital for an induction, she went into labor. Clearly, this kid wants things her way or no way. She must take after me.

I visited the hospital to check on Kim and Kim Jr. After chatting for a while with her, Baby Daddy, and Baby Grandma, the dreaded question was asked: "Do you want to hold her?"

Me: Ack! I'm scared of babies. And they're scared of me, too. I might drop her.
Baby Grandma: You won't drop her.
Me: Babies wiggle. She might just wiggle right onto the floor.
Baby Grandma: She's too little to wiggle! Don't be afraid.

So, rather than be shown up by an infant, I reluctantly agreed to hold her. They handed me a tiny little pink football and snapped some pictures while laughing at my complete and total awkwardness and ineptitude with children. Luckily for both me and Kim Jr., she didn't move an inch. But she did make an awful face at me.

Me, responding to the awful face: Kim Jr., I know you don't really like me right now. But when you're 16 and I buy you beer, you'll love me. Just wait.
Kim: You can buy her beer when she's 21.
Me: I'm sure you're praying that she's not like you were when you were a teenager. But, turnabout is fair play!
Baby Daddy: And she's not dating until she's 35!
Me, whispering to Kim Jr. (as if she understands a word of this): Don't worry, you can bring boys to my house. I won't rat you out to the parents.
Kim: Don't you think it might be a little suspicious when Aunt LST lives 50 miles away and is babysitting for her when she's 17?
Me, to Kim Jr.: I guess we're not gonna win this one, kid.

I got back to my dad's house and he asked me about the baby and how Kim was doing, etc. The funny thing about my dad is that he seems to think that engagement and pregnancy are illnesses that can spread through person-to-person contact, at least where I am concerned. After every wedding I go to, he asks if it gave me "wedding fever." "Of course it didn't," I say. His response is usually something like, "Thank fucking Christ."

So of course, during Kim's pregnancy he was definitely concerned that it might somehow rub off on me. After I threw her a shower a few weeks ago, he asked, "So does this mean you want a baby?" And my response was a resounding, "Hell no!" much to his relief.

Despite my phobia of babies and children, I'm starting to warm up to the idea of being "cool Aunt LST," the one who lets Kim Jr. drink at my house when she's spending the night, teaches her how to drive a five-speed, and convinces Kim and Baby Daddy to let her get a dog. This situation might work out pretty well, I think.

Spring Broken.

Today marks the official first day of my last spring break ever. That is, unless I decide to go to graduate school at some point.

And that means a whole week of not reading, not going to class, and sitting out in the sun with the Terrorists. In other words, no different than most other weeks for me.

Thursday, February 22, 2007

Marriage: The World's Oldest Profession

I am getting to the regrettable point in every young woman's life where all of her friends are simultaneously married off. I have good reason to think I should expect a barrage of fancily stamped, foiled, embossed and engraved invitations to land in my mailbox over the course of this summer.

Being a future lawyer, I'm a desirable guest on my friends' list when they conduct their financial calculus as to who will provide the best payoff in the food-and-booze-to-gift-ratio. Or so they think. In reality, I'm taking a government job while trying to juggle getting a mortgage and paying off my student loans. If this information was widely known in my circle, I'd certainly be cut from the guest list in the first round.

Apparently marriage has become a booming business in this country. While I have been quietly purchasing nice things for my kitchen when I have the extra cash to do so, I realized one Cuisinart and a set of Henkels too late that all I had to do was get engaged and register for whatever the hell I want, and other people would buy it for me. I clearly missed the memo on that one.

Pretty soon I'm going to be priced out of my friends' weddings, so I've started to develop a wedding fiscal strategy.

First, I am going to set a budget each year for wedding expenses, and when that budget has been reached, decline invitations to any weddings for the rest of the fiscal year. So, if you want me in attendance at your wedding, make sure to either a) get married early in the year, or b) register for cheap shit and pay for my hotel room.

Next, I'm consulting with some tax-savvy law students to figure out how I can make this shit tax-deductible. I am certain that many people spend far less money supporting a child (which can currently be itemized) than I anticipate spending on wedding-related expenses in the next couple years.

Finally, I have realized that in order to equalize this cost-benefit ratio, I need to fast for three days before attending any wedding and carry a large purse so that I can take full advantage of the buffet. As an aside, your chances of securing a positive RSVP from me improve exponentially if you assure me that you will have an open bar with a ready supply of Amstel and Stoli.

And for those of you whose weddings I have dutifully attended (or will attend), gift in hand, please note that I am graduating in May, and as such I have registered down at the local Infiniti dealership.

Carpe Beerum.

True to the predictions of our groundhogs, it looks like we're getting an early spring, as evidenced by today's sunny, warm weather.

Before my very pregnant Entertainment Law professor arrived in class, I gave serious thought to ditching and enjoying the weather for a couple of hours. Not like I had anything specific in mind planned, other than avoiding the indoors until Copyright.

Just then, Prof. Entertainment-and-a-half walked in. She noticed that most of the class was strategically placed in the back of the classroom.

Prof. Entertainment: Why are y'all hiding in the back? Are you really going to make me lecture from the middle of the room?


Prof. Entertainment: Most of you guys are 3L's, right?

[We all nod.]

Prof. Entertainment: What on earth are you doing here on such a gorgeous day? This is the type of day when I was in college -- and even in law school -- we would be drinking already. You have to take advantage of that stuff - once you start working, you can't go drink beer at the bar at 1 o'clock without people thinking you're an alcoholic.

[I close my computer and half stand up, about to make my exit.]

Prof. Entertainment: But now that you're here, you can't leave. I mean, I didn't just walk to campus; I drove an hour and a half in!

Damn. I need to learn to seize a perfectly good opportunity before it passes me by. Next week, if the weather is nice, I'll take Prof. Entertainment-and-a-half by her word and carpe diem beerum.

Monday, February 12, 2007

Shoot to Kill

Law school, being like high school, has its own unique set of social norms. Many are axiomatic: Don't sleep with your classmates. Or with your professors, for that matter. Don't say things that you don't want everyone else to know (because they will find out). Just generally, don't act like a jackass.

The most important social norm in law school is obvious to those of us on the "inside," but completely foreign to everyone else: Don't be a gunner. As a matter of fact, this unspoken rule is so painfully obvious that I was hesitant to even rehash it here.

Gunners are those assholes who raise their hands in class and talk just to hear themselves and prove how smart they are and how, as a matter of fact, they are that much smarter than you. They want to flex their intellectual muscle. This is probably an effort to make up for their microscopic penises, being that a good 95% of the gunners in law school are males. First year professors are not friendly to the ego, and as such, generally beat the gunner-ness out of them by the end of first year (or first semester, if they're really good).

But sometimes people slip under the radar and continue to act like asshats well after first year, entirely oblivious to the fact that they are subject to the hatred and vitriol of an entire class. While I thought I'd escaped most of the gunners long ago, I was rudely informed otherwise this semester - a semester where my patience is thin and my tolerance for bullshit even thinner.

I'm lucky enough to have in my 16-person Copyright class a 2L gunner of epic proportions. Affectionately known by his class as the 43L, the Copyright Gunner has a Ph.D. in Asshattery and loves parading his irrelevant knowledge and high-horse attitude before the class on a regular basis.

Not only does he interrupt both classmates and the professor on a regular basis, but his holier-than-thou attitude makes me roll my eyes so hard I end up with a headache by the time class is over. Example:

Prof. Copyright: Okay, I'll raise my hand too since I've done it, so don't feel like you're incriminating yourself or anything: Who in here has committed copyright infringement?

[Entire class, save the 43L, raises their hands.]

Prof. Copyright, to 43L: Come on, you've never committed copyright infringement?
43L: No, I haven't.

[Commence eye-rolling.]

Prof. Copyright: Never?
43L: No. I've copied articles for educational purposes, but as an author, I would never commit copyright infringement.

[Oh, barf.]

Prof. Copyright (who is incidentally a well-published author and academic), smirking: Well, I'm an author, too. But that doesn't mean I have never infringed a copyright.

You get the picture. Many of his comments also begin with the preamble, "In my experience..." or "If I may..."

I swear, before this semester is over, I am going to snap. I'm going to duct tape his mouth shut and beat him over the head with my Copyright book. Infringe that, asshole.

Lesson to be learned, kids: Don't. Be. A. Gunner.

Thursday, February 08, 2007

Crochet Progress: Small Steps

My crochet skills have improved by leaps and bounds in the past week. Keep in mind that prior to sitting down and devoting concerted efforts to this, my skills consisted solely of making scarves.

Observe: I can now crochet in a circle (left) and also make a granny square (right).

I am sure that my family and friends will be delighted to know that they will be getting more than just scarves for Christmas and birthdays from now on.

I can even make blankets and things for my friend K's baby, who is due to arrive at any time now. I was going to make her a scarf, but several people questioned the wisdom of giving a scarf to an infant.

It's progress, y'all.

Monday, February 05, 2007

Book Review: "Stitch 'n Bitch Crochet: The Happy Hooker"

My grandmother is crafty. My mom is crafty. My aunt is crafty. So naturally, they passed along that crafty gene on their X chromosome to me. However, no one in my family really crochets, so everything I learned about crocheting was passed on through informal lessons with a couple of friends. As a result, the only thing I can crochet with any confidence is a scarf.

Enter Debbie Stoller's fun and fresh approach to crocheting for Generation X: Stitch 'N Bitch Crochet: The Happy Hooker.

I am putting a lot of faith in Stoller's claim that her book can teach anyone -- even knitters -- to crochet, as I am not only left-handed, but also have trouble creating anything three-dimensional from a 2D representation.

Stoller discusses a history of crocheting and then explains the tools of the trade, relevant lingo and how to read a pattern. Explanations of stitches are thorough and placed in a logical sequence. Though explained from a right-handed point of view, southpaws like myself shouldn't have a problem inverting the directions.

The book also contains about forty patterns using the techniques outlined in the first part of the book. Each pattern shows a photograph of the finished item, provides specific information about the yarn and materials used, and gives a background of the pattern designer.

The patterns are also cute and fun, appropriate for the target audience of twenty-somethings. It's sometimes hard to find patterns that aren't too grandmother-ish, but this book hit the nail on the head. I haven't completed any projects yet, so the verdict isn't in as to how the patterns match up to the visual representations of the finished product.

All in all, Stitch 'n Bitch Crochet provides an fun and unintimidating entree to crocheting for young women trying to capture our grandmothers' lost art.

Friday, February 02, 2007

What If There Is No Tomorrow? There Wasn't One Today.

Well, y'all, it's Groundhog Day. Lucky for us, for the first time in years, both the national groundhog, Punxsutawney Phil, and our very own General Beauregard Lee, predicted an early spring. This comes as timely and welcome news, given yesterday's winter weather fiasco.

I really have to wonder where this strange tradition began. Taking season change forecasts from a rodent seems mighty odd to me, particularly one named Gen. Lee who lives in a miniature antebellum mansion. Southerners will apparently take any opportunity to shove their Civil War heritage in your face when assigning nomenclature, whether it be to a groundhog or a Dodge Charger.

I was thinking that instead of checking weather.com each day, I could just buy my own groundhog and keep him in the house. Then I would always be abreast of changing weather conditions. Not sure how the Terrorists would like that, though.

Thursday, February 01, 2007

Snow Day!

In the Deep South, if anyone even mentions the word "snow," traffic on the interstate grinds to a halt and the grocery store shelves are instantly emptied of milk, bread, eggs, toilet paper and beer. Which really begs the question why people feel the need to make French toast and sit on the toilet on the one day we have inclement weather each winter, but that is beside the point.

So when the forecasters dare to mention the word "ice," virtual pandemonium breaks out. In addition to the aforementioned items, the grocery stores also sell out of firewood and bottled water (which makes slightly more sense). People huddle in their houses and wait for "the big one." After the storm passes, you can purchase t-shirts from street vendors that read, "I Survived the Storm!"

Now, there hasn't been a snow storm of consequence that I can recall since 1993, when we got a record two feet of snow, which shut down most of the state for nearly a week. But when the weather forecast called for some ice last night, all hell broke lose.

To my pleasant surprise, I awoke this morning to an e-mail message from the university letting me know that the school was closed due to inclement weather. I had conveniently neglected to complete my Public Health assignment, so the snow day bought me a couple extra days.

Let me tell you, any time the university decides to cancel school, I don't think twice about it and enjoy the hell out of an extra day off, putting out of my mind the fact that we will probably have to make it up sometime later in the semester.

Winter south of the Mason-Dixon stands in stark contrast to my undergraduate alma mater in the northeast, affectionately referred to by my father as The Frozen Tundra. Sadly, it's not an inaccurate description. My undergrad university prided itself on having not canceled a day of classes in over 30 years, leaving students grumble, freeze and curse their way to class through the snow, ice and slush from October through April.

I distinctly remember my first winter living up north. The first snow we got had me dancing around my dorm room in my pj's, celebrating the fact that I could stay inside and sip cocoa all day. People looked at me like I was from Mars. "Get dressed and get your ass to class," they said. "The university hasn't canceled classes in 30 years and probably won't cancel them for 30 more."

After the first big blizzard I experienced up there, I was convinced I'd get a day off. Again, no such luck. The plows had come through early in the morning and the sidewalks were freshly salted, which astonished me because at home, the only snowplow in the state is at the airport. I was late to class because I had to throw myself over a three-foot snow drift and got stuck on top of it like a turtle, flailing around on that pile of snow in my wool coat, hat, scarf and gloves, my backpack not making things any easier.

Needless to say, I don't have the constitution to live up north any longer than I actually did. The mild winters are one of the many reasons I'm glad to be back down South. I sometimes laugh to myself at the people who panic at the mention of flurries, but I'm not too good to enjoy a snow day when the university decides to throw one my way.

Wednesday, January 31, 2007

I'm Tech Savvy, Y'all!

I have officially created a Technorati Profile !

Thursday, January 25, 2007


Contrary to its name, Entertainment Law is anything but entertaining.

Only an hour and seven minutes to go...

Wednesday, January 24, 2007

Disorder in the Court!

Well, y'all, I have some news... I got a job! A real, honest-to-goodness, nine-to-five, no naps in the middle of the day, JOB!

Today I accepted a one-year clerkship with Judge R. in a relatively decent-sized city down by the coast. I had actually previously received another offer from a judicial circuit in the northwest corner of the state, but they insisted that I start on June 1 and had to know by today.

Because I have balls the size of cantaloupes, I contacted Judge R. to see if he'd made any decisions because I was on a tight deadline and wanted to be able to consider his circuit, if possible. I guess my chutzpah paid off, as he e-mailed me back and offered me the position. It starts in August and is only a couple hours from the beach and from two of my friends who will be living down on the coast.

Aside from the crappy pay, everything else is pretty sweet. The hours and benefits are great, the location is nice and the experience will lead to excellent job opportunities afterwards, no matter what I decide to do.

I am not sure that the reality has hit me quite yet. I despise wearing a suit, but will probably have to wear one every day. I will not, however, let the man keep me from kicking off my heels under the desk. I am not quite sure it has sunk in that I'll be working and not continuing to postpone the real world for as long as possible. Being a part of the working populace is something that totally eludes my realm of thinking.

In any case, it is a new adventure. The Terrorists have packed their toys, but I told them it was a bit premature. First, they have to suffer through a whole summer of putting up with me while I study for the bar (which I plan to do by the pool, for what it's worth). If they can survive that, they can survive anything.

Thursday, January 11, 2007

Schedule (Mal)adjustment

I decided about five minutes into Administrative Law that it just had to go. The professor seems nice enough. But the thought of sitting through that class three times a week for a semester makes Secured Transactions seem fun in retrospect.

Today I embarked on my mad whirlwind tour of law school classes in a frantic attempt to find a replacement that would deliver me from the boredom of executive agencies and internal review procedures.

My first experimental class was Entertainment Law. Pros: Only two credits; meets once a week; interesting and potentially useful and applicable subject matter. Cons: Brand new edition of the textbook (read: sell your firstborn child to purchase it); adjunct professor who got some not great reviews.

As an interesting aside, the professor is something like six or seven months pregnant. She assured us that she wasn't going to let the baby come until after the class is over. Hon, I know you're a lawyer, but you just can't control everything.

My alternative experimental class was Real Estate Transactions. Pros: Nice, laid back professor; interesting and very practical subject matter; good textbook. Cons: Meets twice a week for 75 minutes (an eternity for my ferret-like 3L attention span); rumor has it that the class is largely self-taught; exam is closed-book.

The fact that I sprinted to the door after real estate was over like I was trying to escape a masked gunman was obviously not a good sign. So, after some vascillating and hemming and hawwing, I eventually dropped Administrative Law like the bad habit it is and picked up Entertainment Law. Hopefully this well-thought out (perhaps even over-thought out) decision won't come back to bite me in the ass later.

And as one semester begins, last semester is still nagging us like Long Island housewife. The grade submission deadline for professors is not until tomorrow, but I'd be too naive to think that all of my grades will actually be posted by then. There are enough old codgers with tenure teaching here who can disregard guidelines and deadlines with impunity and who are not afraid of being chased through the halls by a little man in a bow tie.

Not like grades matter that much at this point, anyways. Not unless I actually want to get a job or something. Psh.

Tuesday, January 09, 2007

Back In Business

I took a rather long hiatus from blogging during Christmas break and gave myself the opportunity to do things I rarely get to do, i.e., read non-law books, spend time with my family and friends, sleep in, watch ridiculous amounts of college football, and learn to sew useful and nifty things.

And so it begins again. I'm sitting in my first class on the first day of my very last semester of law school. Thirty minutes into this class, I am already debating dropping it like a bad habit. I suppose that during registration last semester, nothing seemed as bad as Secured Transactions, and thus Administrative Law seemed like a good prospect. So far, I appear to be dead wrong on that one.

Already I have fallen back into my routine of directing about 12% of my attention to the professor and 88% of my attention to other pursuits, namely instant messaging, blogging and responding to e-mails piled up in my inbox.

I should enjoy it while it lasts. After all, graduation will be here before I know it. After the poofy hat and cape are gone, I'm faced with bar prep and then (*gasp!*) the real world, for which I am dreadfully unprepared. I guess in comparison, Administrative Law seems like a veritable picnic.