Law school quote of the day...

"Lady justice may be blind but she will slap a hoe." --Kevin Barrett

I was less than successful in smothering my laughter when I read this little gem in a Facebook status update conversation. I'm sure my professor knew I wasn't laughing about strict foreclosure. Yet another reason why it's probably a bad idea to be online during class.

The resounding silence

When I was a senior in college, I had the opportunity to live by myself for several months. I must admit, it was a glorious experience. I had just come off the mission, where I was obligated to pass every waking moment with a companion superglued to my line of sight. I followed that up with a string of unfortunate, mentally unstable roommates who routinely attempted to suck me into the vortex of their insanity. After all that, living alone was a liberating experience. There was much to love about flying solo. I loved the way the floors only needed to be vacuumed once a week as opposed to every day. I loved the fact that dirty dishes were never left in the sink. I loved the quiet study time that replaced the constant noise of a blaring stereo or television in the adjoining bedroom. And I especially loved how my food managed to last a lot longer when it was no longer being stealthily stolen by cash-strapped housemates. There were also things that I didn't particularly love. I hated coming home at the end of a long day to a cold, dark, empty house. While there is much to be said about silence, there is also something inherently wonderful about coming home to people who care to see you. In college I experienced extremes when it came to roommates; there were ones that I absolutely loved, and others that made me seriously consider taking up residence in my car. Coming home to the ones I absolutely loved was always something I looked forward to. Being married has allowed me to combine the things I loved most about living alone with all the things I appreciated most about living with good roommates. It has been fantastic. But tonight, when I came home from Portland, the house was cold, dark, and empty. Part of me knows I should be savoring this unique opportunity because it means I'll be able to devote my utterly undivided attention to preparing for my final exams. It means I can spend the entire week in my pajamas if I feel so inclined. It means I can eat macaroni and cheese for every meal and no one is around to care. It means I can steal the covers and mimic a starfish in the ocean all I want, and no one will object. These are all the indisputable benefits of solo living. But the silence weighs on me heavily. Sometimes being alone isn't really all that great.

I object to your objection

It is finals season once again. My brain is operating in overdrive, my motivation level is hovering around nonexistent, and my temper is extraordinarily short. And I'm not the only one. It's a vicious time of the semester. Not exactly the best time to ask a fellow student for a favor. I'm taking a deposition skills training class this semester, and as part of the curriculum we each have to conduct two depositions, one of a lay witness and one of an expert witness. I asked a former co-worker to be my "lay witness" for the first deposition which took place a month ago. Though the fact pattern was fairly straight forward, it was a harrowing two hours for my witness. I felt awful for suckering her into agreeing to portray a sleazy character, be quizzed on things she didn't really know, and be subjected to brutal cross by a shark in training. I simply didn't have the heart to ask my (former?)friend to agree to another pummeling as an "expert witness". To be quite honest, I didn't have the heart to ask any of my classmates to be my expert witness because it's just too close to finals. A week before exams? My heavens no. I didn't even feel like I had time to pull this one off. People have tons going on, the expert witness fact pattern was complex and convoluted, and I knew anyone I might ask would be even less enthusiastic about learning it than I was. The economic analysis of my fake expert witness was enough to raise the spectre of Kearle and cause me to whimper in fear. But I still had to conduct the deposition. Which meant I had to ask someone to voluntarily place his or herself on the altar of academic indignity to be sacrificed in an intellectual slaughter. Yeah right like anyone volunteers for that. So naturally I asked the only person I knew that would accept the challenge and still care to talk to me afterwards. Some married folks might say that they know their spouses love them because they verbalize it, or because they're faithful, or because they put the toilet seat down. I would posit that the true measure of one's devotion is a willingness to be subjected to a mock deposition as an expert witness. Scott is truly a rock star. I'm sure the entire time he was thinking, "What in the world? Friends don't let friends be mock expert witnesses. How could she do this to me? I don't know the law. I can't answer these questions. What am I even doing here?" And yet he managed to hold his own against a very frazzled, self-proclaimed overly aggressive criminal defense lawyer in embryo, and he did so with style and aplomb. He never complains when I obligate him to accompany me to law school social functions. He never whines about my excessive studying. He never asks me to take a break from my incessant anti-law school tirades, but never lets me quit. And he never lets me down when I need him most. That is love.

Making lists and having plans

All my life I have been very much a list-maker. In the margins of pretty much every spare scrap of paper on which I have ever taken notes is scrawled a to do list.
"Go running
send thank you card
finish reading assignment
return phone messages..."

On the wall of my college apartment hung a masterful 6 page articulation of qualities my roommates and I thought to be essential in "The Perfect Male."
"Intelligent
Funny
Ambitious
Can change a tire faster than you without breaking any
screws, but won't laugh at you for trying..."

I once had a teacher ask me to make a list of five things I wanted to accomplish in my life.
"Graduate college
Serve a mission
Go to law school
Get married
Have kids"

And this is probably why I have always had a five year plan. I'm a Type-A control freak in love with list-making. This week I found out that I scored an interview for a job with the DOJ after graduation, and hoping to be as well prepared for this interview as possible, I sought out a little advice from one of our current attorneys on what types of questions to expect. She told me the one question that will almost certainly be asked of me is where I see myself in ten years. That gave me pause. Because I honestly have no idea. I have found that my ability to plan ahead is severely hampered by the fact that I will no longer have school on my to do list. I was able to say as a high school senior where I wanted to be in 10 years because 7 of those years would be spent in school. Now that I'm almost past all that, the options are much more uncertain. Where do I want to be in ten years? I want to have my student loans paid off. I want to have a career that is meaningful and exciting, preferably something that lets me help other people while still allowing me to enjoy some semblance of free time. I want to live abroad. I want to read for fun. And I might even want to finally scratch the straggler #5 off the list. Maybe. Are these acceptable answers for a job interview? Probably not. I guess it's time to give serious thought to an updated long term plan.