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The lottery ticket didn't work out, naturally. Plan B?

Journal orientation was this past weekend. The first set of assignments is out with my staffers, who even as I write this are busy verifying citations and editing copy.

The new term has begun.

And just like the start of every new year, there are jitters. The usual and expected ones are back, of course: classes, books, and the rest. This term should be good: Immigration, Remedies, Copyright, and Federal Courts. Nothing I don't want to do--but then, isn't that why I worked so hard 1L summer and 2L? At least now I'm in a position to take things easy, schoolwise, and pick my shots.

The state of the economy, oddly, eliminates one major source of stress--there are so few jobs about that it's almost pointless to worry about finding work. It's cold comfort, of course, but I can always tell myself that it's a bad year for everybody.

There's also the unaccountable anxiety of the unknown and the unknowable. I find myself unusually on edge--sometimes giddy, even--and I can't even think why.

I guess I just can't wait to get started--even if I wish I could have just a little more time before I do.

I've been pretty quiet for a while--but that's not for lack of things to do.

This summer, I'm working at Legal Services of Northern Virginia; we represent indigent clients in civil matters. I've been on the job a week now, and I can say that it's been an education in itself.

Law school didn't prepare me for a lot of things that I'm seeing on the job. In law school, I read appellate opinions, and think about complex legal problems at a pretty high level. Practice, I'm finding out, is much grittier. It's one thing to know that the relevant rule of procedure allows you to propound 30 interrogatories, and quite another to know how to draft those interrogatories in a way that will ultimately result in meaningful discovery.

My problems tend to be intensely factual rather than legal. Did the landlord provide the tenant with the correct notice? How have the children been spending their weekends since Mom and Dad separated?

As far as the law goes--I find myself having to learn a great deal in an awful hurry. I haven't studied family law, or secured transactions, or landlord/tenant--but I have to learn quick, because that's what's on my desk. The ethical duty to exert reasonable diligence in learning the law means a lot more to me. Real clients now depend on my ability to figure out what their rights and remedies are.

A good chunk of my working day is spent on the telephone, calling clients and finding facts. This is hard enough under normal circumstances. But because I speak Spanish, I tend to conduct a lot of interviews in that language. That's been quite a struggle. It's not that my Spanish is terribly rusty--although it has atrophied somewhat from disuse. A Spanish call demands my total attention: I have to listen to what the client is telling me, then think about what legal import it has. One side of my head is dealing with Spanish facts; the other is frantically trying to match them with legal knowledge acquired in English. Somewhere in between, I have to respond in Spanish, usually in a way to gain more and better facts for the whole processing loop to begin again.

It's exhausting work. I'm completely drained at the end of the day--usually I just make it into bed and crash.

Just the same, this is probably the best thing I could have done for myself over the summer. As a lawyer-in-formation, I'm thrilled to be given this much autonomy and responsibility. I'm amazed at how much lawyering I've had to do in just a week on the job. On a more personal level, I like the fact that I can actually make a difference for people who may not have much else going for them.

Many of the people I'm dealing with immigrated from countries where the law was nothing more than a tool for the powerful to abuse the powerless. I hope that the work that I do can, in some small way, show that things are different here.

We join spokes together in a wheel,
but it is the center hole
that makes the wagon move.

We shape clay into a pot,
but it is the emptiness inside
that holds whatever we want.

We hammer wood for a house,
but it is the inner space
that makes it livable.

We work with being,
but non-being is what we use.

Today's exam was an exercise in non-being. I ended up drawing blanks on names that I should have known cold.

It's no major disaster; I'll certainly not fail, but I could have done better. The dripping rain doesn't make things any better, either.

I'd say I was looking forward to Pacquiao v. Hatton this Saturday, but I have an exam that morning, too. UGH.

From seishonagon

The best reading experience you have ever had?

Tough question. Emotionally, I think it might have been Kazuo Ishiguro's When We Were Orphans. Christopher, protagonist, who had been an expatriate child in the expatriate quarter of Shanghai, returns to Shanghai in the middle of the Japanese invasion of the city, in search of his mother. He encounters his former neighbor, Akira, who had grown up with him in the International District, and who had grown up to command a platoon of the invading Japanese forces. Christopher and a wounded Akira pick their way through the city/battlefield, and Akira assures Christopher that they cannot be lost, that he knows Shanghai "like [his] home village." Christopher stops him, and says: "This is our home village."

Nothing I had read before, or that I have read since, better captures the experience of expatriation. Christopher and Akira are out of sorts in their home countries and cultures, but "home" in a city and culture that wasn't even "theirs" in any meaningful sense. Few things have resonated with me more forcefully.

The worst reading experience that you have ever had?

Jane Eyre. I had to march through that stinking dung-heap of Victorian rot and sentimentality in a single day, because I had neglected to keep up with regular reading assignments. No academic punishment has yet been administered or threatened that compares with that.


Which book has affected or influenced you the most so far?

Another tough one. The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes--I started reading Sherlock Holmes stories as a little kid, and loved how Holmes could deduce answers from observation. The character of Sherlock Holmes probably inspired me to learn as much as I could about everything--because Holmes could use his grasp of general knowledge and keen powers of observation to see things that lesser people (Watson, Gregson, Lestrade) could not.


Have you ever read a book that you got really scared of?

No.


What do you use as a bookmark?
Train tickets, airline boarding passes, lottery tickets.


When do you usually read? At home, work, while cooking, in the morning, noon, afternoon, before you go to bed...?

In transit--on the train (Metro or inter-city), on planes and buses; in bed; in libraries (yes, the law library has to count).

Do you remember the first book that you read?

Yes. Fox in Socks, by Doctor Seuss.


Which do you prefer - paperback or hardcover?

Depends on the situation. Trade paperbacks are easily abused and travel well. Octavo-sized hardbacks are good as well, but less handy for travel. And if I have to read out loud from a lectern, I'd love a proper folio, board-and-leather-bound.

What are you currently reading? What page are you on?

Other than my casebooks, I'm skimming through A.P. Herbert's Uncommon Law: Being 66 Misleading Cases--a collection of satirical "law reports," purporting to come from English courts. A great bit of review for common-law doctrines--the humor comes from the correctness of the legal reasoning.


Do you ever leave "a mark" (deliberate and/or not deliberate) in your books? For example, write in them, underline quotes, coffeemarks or food crumbs and etc.

Yes and no. Some of my casebooks are marginated and annotated (Most notably my Contracts book and the statutory supplement thereto). Others are pristine (Constitutional Law). I tend to write my name in my books, too.

But "leisure" books tend not to be marked-up at all, other than, of course, my name.


Does the title, amount of pages and the cover affect you when you are considering a specific book?

Yes. Good book design (cover, type, etc.) will sell me a book. I have bought better typeset editions just because the type was more appealing. Historical books with good dust-jacket illustrations are interesting as well--see, e.g.,
Bradley K. Martin's Under the Loving Care of the Fatherly Leader: North Korea and the Kim Dynasty for an excellent example.

Do you ever browse through to the last pages in order find out the ending?
I used to do this when I was younger.


Has knowing the ending of a book (example, through spoilers or a movie) ever made you decide whether you will read the book or not?

Not really. I have re-read many books (see below). Plus, I have read books that have been adapted for film or television and been pleasantly, well, "un-spoiled."


Is there a book that you have read more than five times?
Several. The Phantom Tollbooth by Norton Juster (with illustrations by Jules Pfeiffer) was probably my favorite childhood book. I have probably read Frank Herbert's Dune a dozen times now, as well. Franz Kafka's The Trial probably ranks here, too.


Have you ever been in an accident where the book was the cause? (for example, almost getting hit by a car when reading while walking, or having stacks of books falling on you from a bookshelf...)

I dropped a deed book on my pinkie in the county land record office once. Those things HURT.

Do you sell/give away your books or do you keep them, even though you don't like one of them?

I hoard books compulsively, so no. I do give them away occasionally--but that's rare.

Do you have some kind of book system, where you write down what you are reading, have bought, will read, will buy and etc?
I used to, but they have failed.

My head. It's KILLING me. Springtime must be here--my sinuses feel like they're pushing my eyes out of their sockets.

Put in an order for a Lamy Safari to replace my lost Parker Frontier. The Lamy was the road not taken, after all.

Yet another shuffle meme

IF SOMEONE SAYS 'ARE YOU OKAY' YOU SAY?
Telephone (Shelby Lynne)

HOW WOULD YOU DESCRIBE YOURSELF?
Burning Man (Third Eye Blind)

WHAT DO YOU LIKE IN A GUY/GIRL?
I'm So Happy (Nirvana)

HOW DO YOU FEEL TODAY?
Problems (The Sex Pistols)

WHAT IS YOUR LIFE'S PURPOSE?
It's a Bird (Parokya ni Edgar)

WHAT'S YOUR MOTTO?
Flying South Alone (Gold Mind Squad)

WHAT DO YOUR FRIENDS THINK OF YOU?
J.S. Bach--Sinfonia No. 6 in E Minor, BWV 792 (Glenn Gould)

WHAT DO YOUR PARENTS THINK OF YOU?
Founders Come First--Then Profiteers (Nixon in China, Act 1, Scene 2) (John Adams)

WHAT DO YOU THINK ABOUT VERY OFTEN?
Where It's At (Leonard Nimoy)

WHAT IS 2 + 2?
Southern Comfort (Boban Markovic Orkestar)

WHAT DO YOU THINK OF YOUR BEST FRIEND?
The Fitz (The International Beat)

WHAT DO YOU WANT TO BE WHEN YOU GROW UP?
Do Wah Diddy Diddy (Murray Lachlan Young)

WHAT DO YOU THINK WHEN YOU SEE THE PERSON YOU LIKE?
Lee Hyla-- Howl: Poem & Reading by Allen Ginsberg (Kronos Quartet)

WHAT WILL YOU DANCE TO AT YOUR WEDDING?
Tutte le feste al tempio (Rigoletto, Act. II)

WHAT WILL THEY PLAY AT YOUR FUNERAL?
Numbered Days (Mighty Mighty Bosstones)

WHAT IS YOUR HOBBY/INTEREST?
I Wish You Would (Train)

WHAT IS YOUR BIGGEST FEAR?
Diamonds and Rust (Joan Baez)

WHAT IS YOUR BIGGEST SECRET?
Friends Stoning Friends (McLusky)

WHAT DO YOU WANT RIGHT NOW?
Walang Nangyari (Parokya ni Edgar)

WHAT DO YOU THINK OF YOUR FRIENDS?
Life's a Joke (Acoustic) (The Speaks)

WHAT WILL YOU POST THIS AS?
Overdrive (Eraserheads)

My beloved Parker Frontier is gone.

It disappeared sometime after I walked out of Criminal Procedure yesterday, and hasn't reappeared. It's not among my other books or papers. It wasn't in my bag. It wasn't in any of my pockets. It wasn't on the ground--and I covered and recovered every inch of ground I walked yesterday.

It's gone.

Since first-year undergrad, I had used it in every exam I'd taken. I can't imagine getting ready for an exam without it.

I'd used it to write more, though: cards and journals and letters--especially letters. I used it to sign my immigration documents.

The pen was an extension of me; a tangible link to a thousand little memories.

And I lost it.

I just got some exceptionally wise advice about my career prospects. Instead of merely repeating it, though, I'll deliver it in Zen koan form--because this is how it seemed to me:

Once, as the Master visited the Imperial Capital, he happened upon a group of poor law students, who welcomed him and threw a small banquet in his honor. The students, being poor, could afford nothing but a few fruits. As they sat down, one of the students asked the Master:

"'Master, what should I do? I spent 1L and half of 2L pursuing a practice area that seems to have evaporated in this economy. No one will hire me in my field. But I need a job for this summer!"

The Master, snatching a berry from the student's plate answered him:

" 'You are hungry. Eat!'"

And when they heard this, they were enlightened.

I had resolved not to check my grades from last semester until January was out--there was just no sense in getting anxious and repeatedly refreshing the registrars' web site.

Well, it's February. I checked.

More of the same. Evidence killed me, as I thought it might. PR came off worse than expected, but better than I probably deserved. Corporations was a gift. Negotiation was slightly better than expected.

Nothing spectacularly bad--just not the good result I so desperately needed.

The sidewalks by school hadn't been cleared this morning, so I had to offer an arm to one of my classmates as we walked from the Metro to the school door--she was slipping and sliding on the packed, trodden snow.

We walked and talked about Jay-Z and criminal procedure--because, you know, I'm all about that stuff now. Downer: I had to move slower, so I was late for this morning's Criminal Procedure class.

Oh well.

The Library of Congress is one of the great treasures of Washington. It's probably the biggest library on the planet, in terms of total holdings. What really makes it great, though, is that almost anyone can get a reader's card and gain access to the Library's collection.

I first registered as a reader back around 2000. I was an undergraduate then, and looking for a place to keep up with my reading out-of-term. I loved working there, particularly in the stately Gilded Age Jefferson Building main reading room, under whose dome I spent many hours puzzling over texts both obscure and mundane.

I returned today, for the first time in many years. I walked in the west door of the Jefferson Building, under the carriageway arch, and was greeted by a guard who called out to me as he slouched on his chair, next to the magnetometer:

"Visitor or Researcher?"

"Researcher," I answered him, "but I need to renew my ID."

"That's in the Madison Building," he said, nodding.

"Oh it's in Madison now?"

"It's always been in Madison," he said. I laughed to myself. When I first registered, reader registration was in in the back of the Jefferson Building.

I made my way over to Madison and re-registered. The clerk at the registration desk asked me what my old ID number was.

"Does it start with a 5 or a 6?"

"Two," I answered. She looked at me, surprised.

"How old are you??" She didn't believe that I was old enough to have been issued a card with such an early serial number. It was a good-natured exchange, and in a little under a minute, I surrendered my tattered old ID and was issued a shiny new one--albeit with the same, smug, nineteen-year-old face smiling on it.

I returned to the Current Periodicals reading room--my least favorite space in the whole Library. I had always thought of it as a kind of Hell reserved for survivors of the Carter administration: a windowless space lit with harsh, lowest-bidding-subcontractor flourescent tubes.

I bumbled a bit--I had forgotten where the circulation request slips were, and ended up stammering a lot, but a kindly circulation librarian got me exactly what I needed in a facation of the time usual.

I will have to go back more often. I've missed the Library.

I went to the Mall today to see Barack Obama take the oath of office. What I witnessed was something different. I saw America today.

I saw America set apart a day from its labors and process endlessly into Washington to mark this day, even as it knew that there was still work to do tomorrow.

I saw America, shivering in the darkness of a winter night, a collection of strangers, huddling together, waiting for the dawn of a new day.

I saw America, its head raised in song, spontaneously singing its own praises. I saw America bow its head in prayer, begging Heaven for its deliverance. I saw its men with tears streaming down their faces, its women laughing with joy.

I saw America cheer, an uncounted number from the Capitol to the Lincoln Memorial, leaping at once and waving flags at the echoes of the new President swearing--so help me God--and the congratulations of the Chief Justice--Congratulations, Mister President.

I saw America depart, bewildered, amazed; stumbling into the cold light of a new day.

My pen just blew up and spilled ink all over me. uck.

It never fails: the start of the "spring" term for me also brings me my first "stay-at-home" illness.

Ugh.

It's frickin' freezing out there today. My goodness.

Well, that went well, for infinitessimally small values of well.

I was a sickly child growing up. I suffered from pneumonia several times. I will never forget the feeling of terror, waking up in the middle of the night, unable to breathe--my lungs straining, my heart pounding, and me coughing and sputtering, drowning like a fish in air. It was the feeling of breathing and getting nothing, of being acutely aware of the lack of air.

That was how I felt for a fair bit of the last exam. I totally whiffed on one question. I could not have drawn a bigger blank even if I tried. I will be lucky to get any points at all.

After that, it was damage limitation. I had to suck it up, cut my losses, and try to move on to questions I could answer.

Corporations tomorrow. I have no idea how ready I am. I'm not sure I'm worried. I'm worried that I'm not worried.

Here goes.

who just sent me a picture message?