Roo At Bar

Running in the Dark

2009-11-03T21:02:00.002-05:00

I have been up here in New England now for over seven years (wow!) and that's been long enough to get used to a lot of this region's quirks, but one thing I struggle with every year is November. As a life-long decidedly-not-a-morning-person, I used to always look forward to the time change in the fall. It always fell the weekend before Halloween, and in college that meant an extra hour of revelry at the Cedar Springs block party in Dallas - an extra hour of cocktails and an extra hour of drag queens gliding down the middle of an urban street in the most fabulous frocks you could possibly imagine. And the extra hour of sleep! For years I have been capable of convincing myself that it really felt an hour later for days, if not weeks, after the time change.

New England changed all of that.

Thanksgiving has always been my favorite holiday, but the three years while I was in law school were entirely different. In those years November descended on me like black veil. By that time each fall semester I had slogged through a few months of classes, but in the great law school tradition there had not, at that point, been any measures of my progress. They don't believe in quizzes or assignments in law school - it's all or nothing come finals time. So, by November (particularly in my first year), the uncertainty and stress would always begin to weigh heavily. Each year, the hammer truly descended on Thanksgiving weekend. For those three years, what had been my favorite holiday became a dreadful gateway to a month-long carnival of horrors that was cramming for finals. I hated law school for ruining that for me.

Law school ended, of course, and Thanksgiving was returned to me. What I have learned since then and what I didn't recognize back then, was that as long as I live in New England that November will be hard for me. I have (for the most part) gotten used to the snow and the many months of cold, but with that fall time change the darkness descends far too early for me. Sitting in my office at 3:30 and watching the day turn dusky out my window fills me with no end of glumness.

I have resolved that this year will be different. I have been training all summer and have made enormous strides in learning to love training and the energy it gives me. Nonetheless, I am still very capable of spending an entire day at my desk talking myself out of going out on my run at the end of the day and driving home with the headlights on is possibly the least helpful thing I can imagine for the cause. So, today I left work and headed straight for the running store - $35 for a reflective vest and a blinky snap band. Directly home, right into the running clothes, vest, blinky, and headlamp on, and out the door (the dogs were not happy). And I ran intervals in the dark. And it was great. Running there in my own little pool of light, the darkness makes everything seem quieter. I could tune in to the sound of my breath and focus on making my footfall quiet and quick. I returned home feeling better than I had felt all day.

Maybe I'll get November back yet.

Don't Blog for a Year and a Half and Look What Happens!

2009-11-01T17:17:00.003-05:00

Probably no one is reading this blog anymore, so it seems like the perfect time to give it another stab. Since I last wrote I have left the public defender office and gone into private practice. I continue to represent the indigent accused, and still love that work, but it's nice too to branch out.

So too with the blog. I'll continue to write about work, no doubt, but I expect I'll be musing about my theater things and my newer endeavors in training - running, biking, and something resembling swimming. So, stay tuned folks - anyone foolish enough to be checking this blog still may yet be rewarded and if I stick with it perhaps I'll step up the horn-tooting.

Recommended Viewing

2007-05-09T17:59:00.000-04:00

A week ago, I caught PBS's Frontline episode, "When Kids Get Life"" It should be required viewing for all PDs (and probably all defense attorneys generally). The episode tracks the stories of five young men, each convicted of murder in Colorado and sentenced to life in prison without parole. The cases ranged from clear guilt, with no mitigation (beyond age, of course), to at least one case in which it seems clear, in my mind at least, that the kid is innocent of murder entirely. All are equally disturbing in the picture they paint of the fundamental unfairness of sending kids to prison for life.

Defense attorneys will be (or should be) particularly alarmed by the boys' descriptions of their legal representation. Ineffective just isn't the right word to describe representation some of them received -- witnesses were not called, mitigation evidence was not presented, clear conflicts of interest went unchecked. It seems as though if the death penalty is not on the table, the justice system is just content to treat these cases as ordinary, and they clearly are not.

Frontline also did an excellent discussion of felony murder. The experts addressed both the general unfairness of the rule, but also the brought out the exaggerated impact it has on youthful offenders who are more likely than adults to engage in reckless group behavior that could lead to deadly consequences triggering that old common law dinosaur.

So, go, and watch it now! you can watch it online anytime.

We won!

2007-04-26T10:46:00.000-04:00

Not a trial, silly. My bowling team, Red Stryke (derived from the name of the softball team on which we all play - Red Scare. It was suggested that because we were all very bad bowlers that we should tone down the rhetoric and call ourselves the Pink Startle, but that idea never got off the ground), won our ladies' bowling league last night. We play in a 100% handicap league, so I feel a little like a fraud given that our handicaps were HUGE, but we did win the two games we needed to win even without the handicap. I have waited my whole life to be able to say to people, "I can't, it's my bowling night," but I had no idea it would feel this good. I was easily the youngest in the league and it lived up to all my fantasies, replete with big hair-dos, tacky bowling ball bags, and women named Marge and Flo. But those ladies were nice and my team rocks, handicap or no.

My storied past

2007-04-13T11:44:00.000-04:00

Gideon welcomed me into the blawgosphere with a reference to the late great Hartford bar, the RooBar. Alas, my online moniker is a reference to the mascot of my undergraduate college where I actually served as mascot, donning the large, fuzzy, smelly costume, replete with pouch, even in the toughest Texas heat. I still regret that I only did it one year, if only because I could have received a letter jacket -- and what former band nerd ever does that?

nonetheless, as I was googling myself (because all of you know you do it too), I learned that there really is a roo-bar:

roo-bar
noun

(Austral)
1. colloq
A strong metal bar or grid fitted to the front of a vehicle as protection in case of collision with a kangaroo or other animal. Also called (E Afr) rhino bar or (Brit) bull bar.

Which still leaves me to wonder, why the hell would anybody name a bar that?

My Public Defender Hit List!

2007-04-12T17:11:00.000-04:00

I'm kind of an itunes junkie,and I was recently inspired to create a public defender mix. Here are the results:

Rehab by Amy Winehouse - The first line goes like this, "They tried to make me go to rehab, I say no, no, no!" Need I say more?

Against th' Law by Billy Bragg and Wilco

Love Is Stronger than Justice by Sting - though in retrospect I should have used "I Hung My Head."

Shakedown on 9th Street by Ryan Adams - "I was just gonna hit him, but I'm gonna kill him now."

Misguided Angel by Cowboy Junkies - The other side of the coin

King of the Road by Rufus Wainwright and Teddy Thompson (but the old Roger Miller version is just fine too) - My tip of the hat to the many clients we pick up from the local rooming house and the VA

Blackjack by Ray Charles

Fairy Tale of New York by The Pogues and Kirsty MacColl - A Christmas tune to warm the hearts of all who find themselves in the drunk tank on Christmas Eve

Take 'em Away by Old Crow Medicine Show - Actually this song is just about being poor, but you don't get to be my client by being rich, you know

Wacky Tobacky by NRBQ - self-explanatory

Too Drunk to Fuck by Nouvelle Vogue - Funny how men who would never otherwise admit to impotence suddenly become so eager to tell the world about their drunken flacidity in the face of an accusation

Cigarettes and Chocolate Milk by Rufus Wainwright - Ah, addiction! It's what keeps us in business

Women's Prison by Loretta Lynn - Just simply, awesome

Best of All Possible Worlds by the Little Willies

Folsom Prison Blues by Johnny Cash - Rounding out my jail trilogy

Tell It To Me by Old Crow Medicine Show - There's a lot of singing about cocaine in this song

Miss Otis Regrets by Ella Fitzgerald - Ok, Miss Otis would never be my client becuse I'm sure Miss Otis would be all fixed up by her mobster attorney, though since she offed the big crime boss maybe she would be left destitute leaving me to ride in and save the day

Bar Exam by the Derailers - Ok, this has nothing to do with representing the indigent, but it is about getting drunk and making bad puns and I like that shit

Burning Down the House by The Talking Heads - In honor of my client who burned down the hippy pagan church

Hit me with other suggestions if you like. I've already thought of one I forgot Stolen Car by Bruce Springsteen (but I also like Patty Griffin's version that really just makes you want to slit your wrists) Edited 4/13/07

Ok, I'll Play

2007-04-12T16:11:00.000-04:00

123TexasPublicDefender hypothesized her juvenile criminal record. Like her, my record would be fairly tame:

Minor in possession of alcohol
Public Intoxication
Possession Class D
Distribution Class D (under the pass the joint theory)
Trespass
Annoying Phone Calls (who isn't just one bad break-up away from this?)
OUI (ever tried to catch a cab in Houston?)

None of those instances were terribly egregious, and all were committed in an environment in which I could be fairly sure that my punishment would not come at the hands of the state. I often thought when I was in District Court that there was very little distinction between my own behavior as a kid and a young adult and that of many of my clients.

Yelled at by the judge!

2007-04-12T15:07:00.000-04:00

There's a judge here in the district court who is known to be moody, but very liberal with defendants. For the most part, he limits his outbursts to the scolding and general education of the stammering newbie ADAs that churn through the revolving door of our local DA's office like so many salmon swimming upstream. But occasionally he barks at a defense attorney and this week it was me. I was in the trial session and the judge held my trial over until 10:30 to see if the court could get through a couple of short bench trials before empaneling a jury. At 10:30 I look into the courtroom and one of the bench trials is still going on. I didn't go into the courtroom and interrupt, of course, but when I came back a moment later (and by came back, I mean walked back ten feet from the defense bar office) the judge had already begun empaneling for another trial. I asked another attorney if my case had been called and she said no. Nonetheless, after empaneling, the judge sees me and immediately begins dressing me down and when I said that I had been present in the courtroom at 10:30, he then excoriated me for -- get this -- not interrupting the court to alert them to my presence. So, the moral of the story is that you are to patiently wait for the clerk to call your case, unless you are not supposed to do that and are instead supposed to dance a jig to get the court's attention. I suppose it's better than being yelled at because you are doing a poor job representing your client, but I actually work very hard to not be that lawyer - the one the court is always looking for and whose clients are always asking other defense attorneys for advice because their attorney is late. At the end of the day, I was able to comfort myself with the fact that the judge handed out at least two NGs and I think mine would have been a third if it had been reached.

Giving it another go

2007-04-10T11:27:00.001-04:00

Ok, so I really like the idea of blogging, but the fact is that I have never been a good journaler. But work is slow and home life is very good but uneventful, so I guess I'm bored. Such is the life of the post-law school/pre-children phase of life.

I've been a dedicated reader of numerous pd blogs and have often thought to myself, hey, I could do that. And so I will try. Having now stripped my profile of all personal information that would make it possible to identify exactly where I work (you know, that client confidentiality thing), I guess I should (re)start with a little blurb about my thoughts on my job:

1) I love it. It is the only legal job I know of in which I can be in the courtroom trying cases, arguing motions, and directly interacting with clients while only two years out of law school;

2) I like the vast majority of my clients. Of course, I don't have to like my clients to want to defend them vigorously, but it helps to have few good eggs to counterbalance those who might be somewhat lacking in the usual social skills;

3) I am extremely dedicated to my job, my clients, and the ideals that drive most pds to do what they do. I have not, however, drunk the kool-aide. Part of the reason I have hesitated to give my blog over to the pd cause, is my fear that I would look like a slacker cynic compared to the many starry-eyed, fresh-out-of-law school types who are out there blogging these days about the pd life. The fact is, I live in a small town and it can be disturbing to know what is going on just around the corner from my home and I just can't relate to the big-city pd assumption that all cops are bad --because, you know, they're my cops too. I guess I would say that this is where I am on the spectrum - I believe that person that wrote the screed to her clients on Craigslist should probably quit, but I also think the attorney who wrote a post I read on a pd message group recently, in which she blamed her client's decision to stab his previous court-appointed attorney on the fact that the judge would not allow a continuance, might have a tragically skewed perspective.

4) I may quit this job if crystal meth ever gains a significant toe-hold in New England.

Ok, I guess that's a start. Check back here for random thoughts on crime and punishment, automaton DAs, stupid drug laws and stupider mandatory minimums, with the occasional rant about the Astros or music or theater review thrown in.

Ringo

2006-04-25T20:48:00.000-04:00

My heart hurts today. You see, a few days ago our rock star kitty, Ringo, was hit by a car and killed. He was only three years old and still just filling in to his oversized paws. In many ways, he was just an ordinary cat - a grey and black striped tabby, but in every way he just exuded a coolness that belied ordinary catness. His walk was the sort of stalk you see in big, wild cats on nature shows, all lanky, protruding shoulder bones and long strides. He was a mighty hunter; field mice were fine enough, but he would also bring us baby bunnies and he apparently had a taste for squirrel (and routinely caught specimen as big as himself).

I often said that having him in our life would be excellent training in the event we ever find ourselves raising a teenage boy. He clearly craved our attention, running between our feet and greeting us in the driveway as soon as we came home, but would never deign to sit in our laps, and if we swooped down upon him and picked him up he would only just tolerate it. His schedule of choice had him roaming about at night and coming in in the morning to sleep off the previous evenings festivities. On occasion, we would hear rather frightening wailing from the neighbor's yard, but Ringo always came home mostly unscathed. His independence never failed to keep us guessing, but he always came home.

What threw him off was the move. Tara and I moved last week to a beautiful new home. It was -- is -- and exciting time, and we have walked around the last several weeks telling our pets about how much they would love all the new space and the acres of farmland that now surround us. Ringo, as you might expect, does not speak English though. And the move proved confusing for him. He showed no interest in going outside initially, and followed us around from room to room mewing pitifully -- not at all like the Ringo we knew. On Saturday night though he showed an interest in going outside. Tara and I had talked about not letting him out until he seemed more comfortable in the house, but when I saw him wanting to go outside I was relieved to see him acting normally. So, though I thought to myself that I didn't want him to go outside, when he ran out while I was putting out the dog, I didn't try and stop him. It must not have been more than a half hour later when our phone rang; our number was on his collar. I have never wanted a rewind button so badly in my life.

A General Update of Fun Things of Note

2006-02-12T12:37:00.000-05:00

Outside it is snowing with those dense little snowflakes of the type that will add up to 8 to 10 inches by the end of the evening and I can't think of anything specific to write about, so here is an assortment of random things for you all to chew on.

Cool Blog
My friend Lizza sent
this link to her brother's blog about all things Mongolian. It's an interesting read, so take a look.

New Music
There was another fabulous find on itunes for us this week -- Maximo Park. Bands with a eighties-retro feel are all the rage these days, and Maximo Park is definitely in that camp. But they pull it off without sounding trite largely because their lyrics are just so darn infectious. Their hooks stick with you and even this staid 30 year old can happily bob along to Maximo Park's apt and often funny take on the yucky parts of being twenty-something; i.e. "Why did I have to meet you on the night I lost my head?" Tara says, "I like them and they are groovy." It is also of note that I found this band and snagged the album, and in our house, where Tara fancies herself the true music connoisseur between us, I consider that quite an accomplishment.

Houstonian Wins Gold
Cutie Texan, Chad Hedrick, won the United States' first gold medal last night. He grew up in my neck of the woods, and his parents own a roller skating rink down there. The media is doing that obnoxious thing whereby they keep asking him if he feels any pressure now to win fourteen more gold medals, and he just keeps flashing his incredibly toothy smile and saying in that adorable drawl, in not so many words -- bugger off Bob Costas; I'm here to skate. I like that young man, I really do.

What I learned in my first week as a public defender

2006-02-11T09:37:00.000-05:00

Since mid-December, I have bounced around from New Haven to Washington, to Houston three separate times, to, finally, two weeks of training in Boston. Now I am finally back home and began what feels like the rest of my life when I went to the District Court and was assigned my first clients. After two days in court, I already have eleven clients and things are shaping up to be pretty fast and furious and very fun. Needless to say, I learned some very valuable lessons in my first week of defending my community's alleged petty criminals:

1) If you have yourself a drug problem, don't go to court with your sizeable stash and a hypo in your pocket and then wig out. That will get you arrested.

2) Being the daughter of the former police chief of a town will not necessarily make you smart enough to tell the cops no when they ask to search your purse which you know contains several bags of heroin. Which leads me to my next lesson;

3) my supervisor wisely told me yesterday that he learned only two things in law school. First, the answer when any cop asks you anything is no. And second, only commit one crime at a time. Had a few drinks and not sure whether to drive home? Check your pockets; if there's a bag of weed there or an expired driver's license, don't do it. If all your other ducks are in a row, well, the risk you are taking, at least legally, drops substantially and it's your call.

My New Favorite Band

2006-01-05T01:10:00.000-05:00

Well, I don't know if I would go that far, but I stumbled on to the newest effort by a band called The Weepies last week, and I keep going back and back again to this cd. In this age of ipod shuffle (and yeah for Mom and Dad for getting me the new ipod for Christmas), where no matter how much you may like a song it might be just too much trouble to spin the little dial to find it to listen to it, that's saying a lot.

The Weepies aren't so much a band as a couple of folkies who have hooked up to cut an album. But Deb Talan and Steve Tannan meld together seamlessly, with simple lyrics and a sound that is a little haunting even though it never veers far from poppy and rarely hits a minor key. My favorite cut, Gotta Have You is a catchy, missing you song and given that I am stuck in D.C. apart from my dear Tara it's not hard to see why I might be attracted, but the song cheekily thumbs its nose at life's vices, boiling it all down to what's important - "No amount of coffee, no amount of cryin', no amount of whiskey, no amount of wine, no no, no, no, no. Nothing else will do, I gotta have you." In World Spins Madly On, Tannan shows off his stuff in his comment on the inexplicable way the sun always continues to come up after a love has slipped off into the ether. Also a stand out is Nobody Knows Me at All, a take on the anonymity and isolation that can permeate even the happiest soccer dad's life. It's short, plucky melody would be at home on the soundtrack of the show Weeds, where cynicism and sweetness mix to create an arresting scene of domestic bliss gone slighty askew.

There are other nuggets to find in the album, so check it out.

Top 10 List 2005

2005-12-27T20:59:00.000-05:00

Several years ago my friend David Bell, waiter, playwright, actor extrordinaire, prompted me to create a top ten list of that year's biggest moments. We have kept up the tradition somewhat sporadically, but it seems now that I have the perfect venue for such a list, and here is this year's for you my dear readers.

10) I turned 30 -- ugh.

9) It was a good year for many of my friends. Renee and Sadie brought home the new addition to their family, Evelyn, a few weeks ago. Peter and Jennifer have a brand new hippie dope smoking country star in their family -- little Willy Nelson (ok, so he actually hasn't acquired such bad habits yet, but how awesome is it to be called Willie Nelson?) And Frankie and Teresa, friends from college, welcomed their second -- Ethan. Quite a baby boom!

8) Tara had surgery in August to remove a benign cyst from her salivary gland. The prospect of them cutting on her face was scary, but her doctor was great. Everything turned out perfect, and Tara's mom was able to come up for the week, which was really nice.

7) The Astros went to the World Series. No, they didn't win, but October was a lot of fun (except that time Lidge gave up the home run to Albert Pujols one out away from closing down game five of the NLCS). I think the best part is that it gave me cause to think about my MeMe a lot and how much she must have enjoyed the bird's eye view of it all.

6) I fell down the basement stairs . That sucked.

5) I worked three months as a clerk to the Honorable Joan G. Margolis, federal magistrate judge. I really, really wanted a full-year clerkship position, and tried valiantly to get one, but it was not to be. So, I'm glad I have this on my resume at least, and New Haven was a fun place to be for a short while.

4) After flailing about for three years trying to find a job and trying to figure out where we want to live, I have been offered a position with my state's public defender office. The pay is atrocious, but I will be able to walk to work and the courthouse, be in the courtroom every day, and actually try cases within my first year. I know I will love the job, and since I have such a great partner I won't have to eat beans and weenies in order to take it. Yay!

3) I passed the Texas bar -- by a very comfortable margin. Too bad I have to take another one in July.

2) I graduated from law school. After three years of a rather impressive effort, I graduated from law school with honors. I even pulled a 4.0 one semester. I think in all my previous years of education, that's one feat I never managed before. Mom, Dad, Christy and the kids all came up, and it was great fun. It was a little cramped trying to entertain in our postage stamp sized apartment with the whole gang, but we made it work.

1) Tara said she'd marry me! I figured as long as we were living in a commie pinko state that allows such shenanigans, that we ought to take advantage. We're planning on Columbus Day to tie the knot, and no, I will not be wearing a pink tutu.

And now a few New Year's resolutions.

I resolve, yet again, to be more diligent about my blogging.
I will lose 30 pounds by April even if it means gluing myself to the treadmill.
All our mounds of credit card debt that has piled up the last three years will be no mas by October.

Suspended Animation

2005-10-25T21:58:00.000-04:00

Many of my friends know that I am currently awaiting my results from the July administration of the Texas Bar exam. The official line is that they are due out on November 4, but rumor is that Texas often releases scores early. On top of that, I am waiting to hear whether I got the clerkship with the federal judge in Springfield. He interviewed me last year and didn't give me the job. And then we spent a couple hours together last spring when he judged a moot court competition that I organized. This year, I reapplied and he interviewed me again. At this point, as much as he has seen me, it would be just cruel for him to not hire me. But the interview was back on September 23, and though he said it could be the end of October before he decided, I am just dying with every hour that the phone doesn't ring.

All the waiting is just killing me. I can't concentrate on anything and my girlfriend seems kind of over me at the moment. And currently -- like right at this very moment -- the Astros are down in the World Series 0-2, and they just gave up four runs in one inning to lose the lead in game three. None of this makes me happy.

But maybe they will pull it out, and maybe my phone will ring tomorrow, and maybe my name will be on the pass list whenever it comes out. In any case, all the waiting will be over with next week.

Go 'Stros!!!

2005-10-10T12:57:00.000-04:00

I dare not speculate how the series with the hated Cardinals will go, but conventional wisdom is already labeling yesterday's marathon eighteen inning game as the best playoff game in history. It had it all -- a grand slam to bring the Astros within one late in the game, a two-out homerun in the bottom of the ninth to tie up the game, nine -- count 'em, nine -- more grueling innings in which Roger Clemens came out to make only his second relief appearance in his career to hold the Braves to 0 runs for three innings, and finally a walk-off home run by a bench rookie. I watched every minute of the 6+ hour ordeal, and though I did experience some heartburn, it was the most amazing game I have ever watched. I could hear my MeMe cheering with every strike Clemens threw and she cheered with me when Burke's hit cleared the fence to finally end the game.

Of swaggering sailors and grieving military wives

2005-10-10T11:43:00.000-04:00

Tara and I went to see one of my favorite bands de jour, the Decemberists, last night. They have had some play recently on the local radio stations with their song Sixteen Military Wives. That song is, to my mind, the best piece of political songwriting on the radio, and I would say that even if it weren't the only piece of political songwriting on the radio. But what I truly love about this band is that they are story-tellers, narrating tales straight out of Victorian era newspaper serials and following those stories up with sly ballads about losing your friend's bike or experiencing spectacular humiliation on the playing field. The Decemberist sing about sailors settling old scores in the belly of a whale, haunting elegies about barrel boys, and Dickensian chimney sweeps. Though they are not at all country, the band's dedication to narrative songwriting makes me think of some of the great country balladeers like Marty Robbins and Johnny Horton.

The concert did not disappoint. The sextet includes Colin Melloy's sharp yet lilting cadence and lead guitar backed up by a lush mix of violin, upright bass, accordion and keyboards, bass guitar, and drums. The band jockeyed the appreciative audience back and forth between melancholy ballads and bouncy popesque tunes with fun bass lines. The band has been prodigious since its formation in 2001, and the set list was comprised of songs from their three albums and also included a new song. I was impressed by the range of ages in the audience, and the music seemed to resonate with the high school kids even as their parental chaperones happily bobbed to the music. A lovely evening was had by all and I highly recommend checking out any of The Decemberists releases.

Schmacting

2005-10-05T12:59:00.000-04:00

After years of cultivating an image of myself as the non-acting director, I will be making my western Massachusetts acting debut on Thursday night. I have been directing a piece for a production of short plays, and, as happens in community theater, an actor crapped out on me. Actually, I fired the guy, and what a guy he was. In a month of rehearsals I never managed to glean his occupation except to learn that he had substitute taught in Springfield, but he hated the other teachers and administration there. He ran the "Sylvia Plath" committee here in Northampton with the goal of forcing Smith College and Northampton to honor the legacy of his favorite poet, but he hated all those folks out there who ever dared mention that she had stuck her head in an oven to end her life. He believed no other playwright other than Shakespeare merited discussion of any type (an odd stance for an African-American gay man, I think), looked down upon all people who watched television, and could not bring himself to perform "low" humor -- which was too bad given that, in his opinion, our entire play consisted of low humor.

After hearing him insult every other member of the cast and myself and picking fights at every rehearsal, firing him was an easy choice. Apparently it was easy for him as well given his missive to me following Sunday's ill-fated rehearsal:

Ms. Elkins:

Thank you for firing me--although I think it was
nonsense. I never liked, or felt any chemistry with
any of the cast--including you--and that makes it very
hard (I felt my acting was fine). It's the first time
I never connected with not ONE SINGLE PERSON in a
group. There was a lack of sophistication within the
group. My type of personality I felt the cast could
not handle. I never want to be in an environment
wherein discussion walks such a delicate line.

Chemistry aside, I do believe Rxxxx is just an idiot.

I want to be reimbursed ($3.16) for the gloves and the
handkerchiefs if you do not mind.

Again, thanks for the severance.

-----Mxxxx

The guy was a major drain on everybody's groove, so I canned him. Note that he cited the entire cast for its lack of sophistication, which is funny because as he was stalking out of the room screaming "fuck you" at the top of his lungs, I thought to myself, "now there goes a sophisticated guy."

And so now I am playing his role and will be taking the stage again for the first time since college. Should be interesting.

My New Roommate

2005-08-22T22:16:00.000-04:00

So I started a new job this week in New Haven, Connecticut. Because of the not-quite-commutable distance between New Haven and Northampton I am now living five nights a week with a roommate I have never met. It was a Craig's List dealio, and on paper it has worked out great -- the place is super-cute, close enough to work to walk and far enough that the walk might actually translate into a leaner, meaner me. The weird thing is, as I mentioned, that I am yet to meet the woman I am living with, as we made our agreement by phone and she is currently visiting her family in Ohio.

So let's see what I've gleaned from living two days in a stranger's home. First, her family is from Ohio, though I find it curious that there is a "Don't Mess With Texas" sticker on her filing cabinet. The mystery woman is exceedingly neat, a fact that makes me slightly nervous seeing as how I'm not so much, really. She has a cat, I'm told, yet there is an eerie paucity of cat hair hanging about. She is currently a PhD student at Yale in American History and she has (and I'm not being facetious here) a fascinating collection of books, mid-twentieth century odds and ends -- magazines, prints, antiques. According to the e-mail she sent me with dining suggestions, she was a restaurant critic in New York at one point in time. She'll, no doubt, be appalled that I have sullied her refrigerator with a jar of Miracle Whip, but then again maybe she'll appreciate the retro-kitsch of processed foods invented in the post-WWII era). She has an enviable sense of style, based on the fun furnishings and the MTA NY Subway shower curtain. This woman has an obvious fetish for skin care and beauty products -- the bathroom is filled with all manner of lotions, shampoos, soaps, etc. Now, of course, I could just be underestimating the average straight woman's fascination with these kinds of products, but I know enough about stuff you smear on your face to know that this stuff isn't cheap.

I also know that she went to Brown and yet is a blonde (the tell-tale sign being the special schmancy shampoo for blondes I spied in the shower this morning).

Oh, the pressure! I don't know if I'm cool enough to share space with this mystery woman.

Had Hoped to See you Tomorrow, Peter

2005-08-08T21:52:00.000-04:00

I won't delve too long into the maudlin, but as I resume my musings again after a brief absence, I felt I had to mention the passing of a great American, er, Canadian-American. Several months ago I made note of the fact that Peter Jennings was going to be absent from the ABC World News Tonight broadcasts due to illness and I was surprised even then at how much it disturbed me. I had always perused the newspapers as a kid and my parents almost always watched the evening news -- national and local, but after college I acquired a serious news habit. I always viewed the national news broadcasts as a little Mickey Mouse, but I appreciated the bite-sized views of the world packed into those thirty minutes every night and Peter Jennings voice was soothing background music to that wonderful half-hour of the day when I return from work or school and spend some time reacquainting myself with that pretty, tall blond I know -- a little intersection of the big, wide world and my little place in it.

Anyway, I think that Peter Jennings was a damn fine news anchor. His belief and hope in this country was just as palpable as his not infrequent disappointment in its failings. I recall that after 9/11 he altered his evening sign-off. Instead of simply saying good night, see you tomorrow, he summed up all the fear and uncertainty shared by many when he said simply, "hope to see you tomorrow night." I had very much hoped to see him tomorrow night, and the night after too -- it's strange to say about someone I did not know, but I will miss him.

IN OTHER NEWS

Those of you who might be wondering will be happy to know that Tara's surgery today went beautifully. It would be a HIPA violation for me to go into more detail (that, and Tara would probably not be happy for me to be discussing her medical history on the internet), but just know that all is well.

Also, when I started this blog I envisioned something funny and topical and I'm not sure that I've hit the mark. I welcome your ideas for topics, themes, and whatever strikes you as worth writing about.

T Minus 23 Hours and Counting

2005-07-25T09:34:00.000-04:00

Do a Google search of, say, "bar exam" and neurotic and you will find scores of bulletin boards, blogs, and web sites full of pitiful, scared recent law school graduates. They are all agonizing -- did you really study the 9-12 hours a day Barbri recommends for the final two weeks before the bar? How many practice Multiple choice questions have you done -- 500, 800, 2000? They are swapping mnemonics like baseball cards and comparing strategies for completely eliminating any need to urinate for three straight days. Now, it's very clear to me that law school, and thus the profession, attracts more than its fair share of obsessive compulsive neurotics and insecure twits who can only reassure themselves of their self worth by telling everyone they meet their scores on every standardized test they have ever taken. You can imagine then, how people of this sort must respond to the prospect of an exam like the bar. It's not pretty.

I would like to say that I am immune to all the craziness, but I must admit that I am, quite frankly, scared. Starting tomorrow, I will be expected to display stunning prowess (well, really about 65% prowess) in fifteen different legal subjects, each of which have been in development in our common law system for decades, if not centuries. Generations of lawyers and judges and legislatures have had years and years to cook all this shit up and I have had two months to digest it all. (Many of you may be confused by the last statement -- "Why," you may say, "you have just completed three years of law school." Take a moment now to disabuse yourself of the idea that law school prepares individuals for anything remotely related to the bar exam. Don't ask why, just do it.) I dare not predict today whether my strategies and studies have paid off, but a strange sense of serenity has descended upon me. There's little else I can do at this point, and so I am mindlessly reproducing all my memorization lists over and over again and watching tv. By the next time you are likely to hear from me in this medium again, my personality will have returned and I will be back to my normal, non-law spewing self.

Ride On, Lance!

2005-07-21T09:58:00.000-04:00

A couple of years ago, I acquired a shiny, sleek blue road bike and swore to myself that I would ride it religiously. Alas, apparently the self-discipline that has allowed me acquire a college degree and two post-graduate degrees has not translated into a driving desire to subject myself to the rigors of physical training. The bike has been particularly neglected in my fun summer of eye-crossing multiple choice questions and endless outlining of bar essays.

Nonetheless, the Tour de France is the background music of my studies every morning, continuing my obsession of the previous two summers. Barring some sort of terrible tragedy Lance has this year's Tour wrapped up, but his imminent retirement begs the question -- who will take over the throne. Here, my friends, are my humble and ill-informed predictions. First of all, Team Discovery will continue to dominate. Many have already anointed Yaroslav Popovych as the heir apparent, but Paolo Savoldelli offered a reminder yesterday that he is already a champion. Plus there are tantalizing rumors that plucky Alexandre Vinokourov is fed up with T-Mobile's surplus of chefs in the kitchen and has eyes only for Discovery. Among other teams, CSC's Ivan Basso will not be going away anytime soon and though he suffered a spectacular flame-out this year, I know in my heart of hearts that Dave Zabriskie is going to be HUGE -- plus, he's just a real cutie, what with all that indecipherable muttering in his interviews. It's all an act folks, he really is literate. Finally, you have to talk about Jan. Poor Jan Ulrich; he's had his best years usurped by the Armstrong Express. Unfortunately, Lance's absence will hurt Jan more than it will help. Lance has always been Jan's proverbial mechanical bunny on the dog track and he seems just a little too happy to be good but not the best. Jan is a fabulous rider, but hungry he is not.

Ok, I will not write again about a topic of so little interest to the masses, but check back this time next year to see if my predictions were on the mark. Maybe I'll tank everything and go get a job working for OLN.

So it begins

2005-07-20T11:49:00.000-04:00

Thus proving that no task is too big or too scary to completely eliminate procrastination, I have chosen this day -- five days until the bar examination -- to take up a new hobby of blogging. I have never been a good journaler, so this may be a short-lived experiment. And maybe the last thing the world needs is another random person taking up server space with tales of her probably less than exciting life, but hey -- what the hell!

Presently I'm laying in a prone position on my couch because I fell down our basement stairs while doing laundry last week. Not sexy, I know, but the bruising is muy impressive as is the new form of my left foot and ankle, which somewhat resembles some sort of club topped off with five fat little sausages. Despite an hour or so of hysterics, all is fine, but the swelling refuses to go down and I'm having nightmares of how fat my newly acquired cankle will be next week after sitting in 6 hours of examination. Not pretty, I think.

Speaking of the bar exam, I must return to my studies. Wills and estates are gently calling my name.