lawsomnia

blogged to death

2006-09-17T16:12:00.000-04:00

Another political career has been aborted as Ursula Gruber has been unmasked as the blogger Persuasionatrix by Wizbang in two articles (1, 2) and followed up by the AP. Jessica Culter, of Washingtonienne infamy, put in her two cents. No word if Paul Kelly Tripplehorn, Jr. will come out of hiding. Persuasionatrix, for those who don't know, was a staffer on Ben Cardin's campaign who wrote comments about Cardin's primary opponent that some found questionable.

I'm not here to cast aspersions on Persuasionatrix, Washingtonienne, Tripplehorny, or the subjects of the 2001 Vanity Fair intern article.

But what is clear is that what starts off as an entertaining way to spend a little free time can end up ending careers. People get fired for blogging, particularly if it is about work. (E.G. 1, 2, 3) Or sex. Or politics. And if you get picked up by the good folks at Wonkette, your anonymity cannot last. There are too many people with too much free time.

I have been pretty responsible. I haven't talked about work, sex, or many of the other things that cross my mind on a daily (or hourly) basis. But we work and live in an environment where everything we say can be taken out of context and used against us.

I like my job. I like my friends. I like my privacy. I also like blogging, even though I feel pretty constrained in what I can say. But using those finely honed legal skills I have spent so long to develop, I think it is time to hang up the keyboard.

i remember

2006-09-10T19:49:00.000-04:00

Five years ago tomorrow I was a week-old resident of Washington on my way to an interview in a Senate Office Building. I had no friends in town, an apartment unfurnished except for an inflatable matress, and no job.

It was an incredibly beautiful Tuesday morning and I was enjoying the walk from Union Station to the Senate when it became clear that something was terribly wrong. Women in high heels were running as fast as they could, men's ties were fluttering in the wind, pointing back at the Capitol.

I approached a police officer who told me about the Pentagon, New York City, the State Department, and other real or imagined dangers. I fled, on foot, in my neatly pressed suit and shiny shoes to Georgetown, as the traffic congealed and helicopters and planes swooped overhead.

It is unclear whether I would have been there in time to see -- or be killed by -- the plane that would have smashed into the Capitol. Certainly the people's house would have been demolished, along with a large number of Senators, Congressmen, aides, functionaries, police, janitors, and tourists. Our government would have been decapitated. Martial law would have been declared.

That did not happen, of course. The passengers and crew of United Flight 93 may have saved my life, and possibly saved our form of government. That flight crashed at 10:03 am.

The next day, September 12, I drove up to New England through New York City. The roads were empty save for the flags that had sprung up overnight on the overpasses. New York was gray, although it is unclear whether it was the weather or the smoke.

Like thousands of others, tomorrow morning I will get up, ride the Metro, exit at Capitol South, glimpse the white dome topped by the Statue of Freedom Triumphant, and go to work. I cannot think of a better way to give tribute to those who died. All we can offer is our thanks and our memories.

Collapsed star

2006-09-06T21:00:00.000-04:00

In college I played with a musician who was also an Orthodox Jew. He was the frontman for our group and was an enthusiastic guitar player. He usually arranged the gigs, although it was just about impossible to get him to practice with the rest of the group. His enthusiasm outweighed his abilities.

It always struck me as strange that someone whose life was so totally tied up in one passion (his religious activities) would make time for a completely different activity that was, in many respects, contrary to his religious beliefs. Jazz and Rock are about passions that religion curtails.

When I was in Prague, in the old Jewish quarter, I was approached by two American Hasids (ultra-orthodox Jews). They first asked if I was Jewish and, without waiting, asked if I wanted to put on Tefillin.

I had just been inside a synagogue that had listed on its walls the names of the 130,000 Jewish people from Prague who were murdered by the Nazis. The names covered the walls of the sanctuary, the side rooms, the upstairs. Families were listed together: father, mother, children, grandchildren, cousins. The walls swam with the invocation of the deceased. I could not breathe. Tourists snapped photos.

The reason that synagogue and five others were spared by the Nazis was that Hitler wanted to make a museum of the extinct people--a museum for the Jews he was trying to eliminate.

My immediate response to these Hasidic Jews was an emphatic "no." I don't have any religious beliefs and really wasn't interested in having my arm bound while reciting these old prayers.

I went into another adjascent synagogue, but on my way out, bypassing the throngs of tourists, I passed these two guys again. I apologized for my previous rudeness, and asked if they wanted me to join them to put on Tefillin so that they would be more comfortable in putting it on. I was willing to try and help them feel comfortable in praying in their own way. It was the least and most I could do.

"No" was their answer. They wanted me to put on the Tefillin as a way to instill their religious beliefs in me. They were trying to use guilt as a hook.

Few things irritate me more than religious proselytization. In this former center for Jewish learning, in the heart of these six buildings that bore witness to murder on an incomprehensible scale, I was being told that I needed to be someone else-- that what I was wasn't acceptable.

My blood boiled.

When I declined their second offer, one of the men told me he sensed some anger and asked if I wanted to talk about it. His tone was a bit condescending and challenging.

How could I explain that respect for others was the one lesson I hoped people would take from that place? Or that trying to coerce belief and practice, no matter what the reason, leaves me cold?

Near these two gentleman was a girl of 19 or 20 sitting at a vendor's booth-- one in a long row of booths -- selling all sorts of tchotchkes. She was studying humanities in the local college, spoke fluent English, had bright clear blue eyes and shoulder length black hair. I had spoken with her twice. Her name was Anya.

Anya had been to the synagogues when she was young but was thinking about going back in as an adult. She was interested in what was going on around her. She wanted to learn about how other people thought and lived.

I wanted to grab these two men and tell them they should learn from this pretty young Czech girl. That passion and tolerance and acceptance and respect start with taking a genuine interest in others, not seeing how you can make others like you.

I never completely understood my guitar-playing friend. But we respected each other. He was a rockstar.

starting over

2006-09-05T20:28:00.000-04:00

Today I started my new job. It is what I've strived for since I started law school, or since I first moved to DC, or since I graduated from college, or since I first picked my major, or since I became aware of a world bigger than myself.

Some things were familiar. The twist in my stomach as I rode the Metro. The paperwork and nervous smiles. The hive of jargon. Expectations and questions.

I am fortunate.

But as I sit in my apartment, dinner in hand, I wonder what will be. I have imagined this point. Worked towards it. But the road from here is misty and I cannot see around the corner.

It is exciting. It is frightening.

It starts again in 12 hours.

a poem

2006-09-03T23:07:00.000-04:00

I would like to fly a plane
if only for the sunrise;
the auburn amber star-rich skies
the plaid earth--
brown
and green,
lakes eclipsed by cumulus,
and slipping shadows
treading the world
softly.

boy are my arms tired

2006-09-02T20:26:00.000-04:00

Which of the following four airports cannot be reached by mass transit: Prague's Ruzyne International Airport, Bratislava's Letisko International Airport, London's Heathrow Airport, and Washington's Dulles Airport?

Technically, they can all be reached by mass transit. Dulles is the most complicated in that it requires a Metro ride to the end of the Orange Line combined with the "Washington Flyer" bus service that departs at 15 past and 15 before each hour. Prague also has the Metro/bus combination, but for one ticket that costs about $1 (not Metro's nearly $10) and with more frequent departures. Letisko merely requires a bus from the train station, and Heathrow is right on the Tube (about 45 minutes from City Center).

Since yesterday morning I've been at the four previously mentioned airports. Bratislava wins the award for least security. Heathrow wins for inaccurate signage. Dulles, however, retains its commanding lead for a combination of pointless bureaucracy and geographic inaccessibility.

It's good to be back in DC.

Hope you're having a great Labour day weekend. Oops. Labor Day. Sorry.

Off to bed -- 8:30pm is the new 1:30am.

did I just get ma'am-ed?

2006-09-02T15:45:00.000-04:00

When my friends and I were in high school we used to hang out in “the center”. It was about a half-mile stretch on one of the main streets in town that housed many shops, restaurants and more coffee shops than necessitated. One of the shops we frequented while there was our beloved Baskin Robbins. They had just introduced the scrumptious Blast drinks. You could get a mocha blast, chocolate blast and so on. Our favorite was the mocha blast.

In the summer time we were down in the center at least three nights out of the week. Summers in my hometown were perfect. The weather cooled down at night and there was a grassy knoll in the middle of the street across from Baskin Robbins. Reading this of course my town sounds like a Norman Rockwell painting, well, it kind of was.

My friends and I would stop in Baskin Robbins every time we were down there. Truth be told, we all had a crush on the two boys who worked the summer nights there. One guy was our friend Michah’s older (and much hotter) brother. The other guy was a senior at the rival school, but we didn’t care. They made the little trip down there worth it. Without fail, we would always order the mocha blast. And for some reason, one night, the guys put one gummy bear in each of our drinks, atop the delicious whipped cream and cinnamon. A different color for each girl- me, I was orange.

This tradition stuck and from then on we each ordered the mocha blast, whipped cream, cinnamon and (insert color here) gummy bear. Sadly though, during the summer before senior year in college, our beloved Baskin Robbins closed. I think I was the saddest one of all.

But tradition stuck. And any time we were together and drove past any Baskin Robbins, we would stop no questions asked. We were met with strange looks every time we asked for that lone gummy bear, but we didn’t mind.

Well a few years, okay, ten, have passed since the infamous gummy bear summer. But every now and then I find myself stopping by the Baskin Robbins by my house to order my delicious blast. The other day I happened to be passing by during my lunch hour and just had to stop and get one.

I walk in and there is this sweet young kid working behind the counter. I almost laughed thinking of our Baskin Robbins hotties and how this kid probably has his own gaggle of high school girls coming in too. It was my turn to order and he looks up at me and says “what can I get for you today ma’am?” GASP! Ma’am?? Did this kid just ma’am me?! I had to collect myself for a few seconds and I am sure the look I gave him indicated I was not that pleased with his ma’am remark.

But then it hit me. This was a nice, polite kid. I still cannot fathom that I have been out of college as long as I have, and I am more than fast approaching my ten year high school reunion. It is only proper that he call me ma’am. I am dressed in business attire, and it is midday, what else is he to assume but that I am a working professional. I am a ma’am. I am in my late twenties and I am easily ten plus years older than this kid. See, I am even referring to him as kid.

As I get ready to go back home to visit some old friends I am sure they will appreciate this story and get a good laugh out of it. Yet, I know, deep down, they will all be thinking at least it wasn’t them.

not in Prague, or even Europe for that matter.

2006-08-31T03:12:00.000-04:00

I have yet to go on vacation this year. Okay, I lie, I went to visit my grandparents in January, but that was a family thing. I mean a real vacation- going somewhere new, not to visit people, but a vacation. I can honestly say I have only done that twice in my life. And the first time, was kind of to visit someone.

I went to Europe the summer before senior year of college. Since my friend was studying at Hull in northern England, some friends and I decided we should join her for a trip around Europe after she finsished her semester abroad. So technically, it was to visit someone, but factoring in the first time experience bit, made it a true vacation. (Seriously, if you ever get the chance to take the Chunnel- the underwater tunnel from London to Paris under the English Channel- by all means, take the Chunnel.)

The other time was last summer. I went on a cruise inthe Caribbean with my friend and her family for her oldest sister’s wedding. I have known this girl practically all my life, so it was a given I was going to be there. Plus, if you invite me to your wedding in St. Thomas, chances are, I am going to find a way to get there. And getting there by the largest cruise ship in all the seas via island hopping is not a bad way to go.

However, this year, I have yet to find an excuse to get away, or a destination for that matter. I have taken off a few days here and there of what I like to refer to as “mental health days”. I think it is only natural to take a day off once in a while and do absolutely nothing but spoil yourself. My roommate and I did this once and it resulted in us sipping champagne at a resort at three in the afternoon. An older group of people were sitting next to us and one of them finally asked what we were celebrating. Our reply- Monday.

So I have decided I am taking a vacation. And sadly, this time will not be a new adventure, just a much needed break. I am excited though to go visit some old friends from high school. One of my best friends and her husband (gads that makes me feel old) are leaving the country for a few months and I will be heading out to see them before they venture off.

Although it won’t be a tropical or exotic setting (because unless your hometown is Cozumel it wouldn’t be) it will be nice to get away for a week. I look forward to my upcoming time off. Time off from work, time off from obligations, time off from dry cleaning and laundry and time off from work- oh wait, did I mention that one already?

your SIM card is full.

2006-08-30T00:31:00.000-04:00

In this day and age, text messaging has become a social norm. Cell phone companies even offer plans for text messaging as if they were minutes. And sadly, yes, I have one of these plans. I have a lot of friends scattered throughout the country and it makes it easy to check in when the time differences are so drastic.

I know I have fallen victim to the text messaging addiction. I think I have it down to a science and can text rather quickly. Sad, I know. But I also like it as a form of convenience. If you are running late to meet someone you don’t have to actually call them and fess up and hear the disappointment in their voice, nope, you can just text message them. This has since become far too convenient for me and now I have the daunting task of deleting text messages sent and received rather often, as there is only so much memory on the phone for all these little messages. Just today I got the little alert after a friend sent me a message that said “SIM card full”.

But when did it become acceptable to use text messaging as a form of flirting? My first encounter with the wayward text messaging came after I met a guy one summer. He was a few years older than me and we had hit it off right from the start. I mention the age as I felt it factored into the randomness of the situation. The first time we talked on the phone after meeting we challenged maxing out my cell phone minutes. We were seriously on the phone for almost two and a half hours. I was impressed. We continued talking on the phone frequently and usually for a good length of time each call.

Then, it started, the cute little text messages. Or so I thought. The cute little text messages then began to replace our cute little phone calls. I guess I was partly to blame as I responded to his text messaging. (I have a friend who refuses to text message anyone back, let alone guys.) But this guy had started off on such a good foot that I gave him the benefit of the doubt. Until I got the mother of all text messages from him.

I was actually meeting up with my best friend for dinner when my phone alert went off. I got excited that I had a message from him, until I saw the message. “Hey, wanted to see if you were available for dinner tomorrow night”. It didn’t take long for my excitement to turn to disgust. Did this guy really just ask me out for our first date, over text messaging? I could hardly believe it. After conferring with my friend for a bit on what to respond with, or even if I should respond at all, we decided to reply by asking him to call me later if he was serious. He did call later, but I knew I would constantly reference that moment. And that was that.

prague

2006-08-28T14:01:00.000-04:00

Greetings from Prague. I know Polychic is doing a great job guest blogging, so I just want to say to all of DC from six time zones away: nyah nyah nyah.

Well, that wasn't very nice. As karmic retribution, my travel companion flaked out on me in London, which was the best thing that could have happened because this city is amazing and she would have just slowed me down. Who would have guessed that high maintenance people do not make good travel companions?

I thought I'd share some interesting contrasts to the DC Metro system:

You can purchase a ticket to get on the metro, tram, and bus anywhere and transfer between them all. No one takes your ticket at the beginning of the ride or stamps it at the end -- so no bottlenecks at the station as well as complete intermodality. The tickets are based upon time and distance. So, you can purchase a 20kc ($1) ticket which is good for 90 minutes, a 14kc ($.60?) ticket which is good for 20 minutes, or a day or multi-day pass. (multipass. heh).

The system is policed by officers who infrequently walk through the train and ask to see tickets. If yours isn't valid, you have to pay a 400 kc (about $20) fine.

There are bathrooms here in the Metro stations. They are kept clean by an attendant who must be paid a nominal fee before using the restroom, thereby keeping out undesirables and overseeing "quality." I'm not a fan of the common toilet paper roll (you take b/f you enter). However, Union Station could learn from Prague in how to keep a bathroom clean. (Even the tube in London has bathrooms which are kept clean).

The above-ground tram system is superb. I would imagine that the rails are much less expensive to lay than the underground tunnels, and the cars are quick, efficient, and clean.

Both in London and in Prague there are maps of all the stops of that particular line so that you can easily see all of your options. These maps are conspicuously displayed at multiple points on each car (as well as in the station).

There are also signs that indicate -- pictorally-- that, when using an escallator, one should stand on the right and walk on the left. What a novel idea. In fact, you don't really need to know a word of Czech to be able to navigate the entire system.

The tram lines also have a display which indicates when the next tram will arrive. This would be a nice thing to have on DC's bus system.

I cannot say that I like London's limited allowance of musical performances inside stations, but if we do end up going that route the Tube's strict control over sound and location makes a lot of sense.

I'm off to Bratislava tomorrow, by a train that departs from one of the Metro stations, of course, so the next time you have from me I'll have another country stamped on the passport.

Safe travels.

PS: please note that blogger here shows up in German, so I cannot spellcheck or edit or really do much of what I would like to do with my posts. This is basically a first draft, but it's all I can offer.

may I see your badge please?

2006-08-27T02:38:00.000-04:00

I had planned on Friday being a very quiet evening in. I needed a night off to relax and do nothing. So I ordered Chinese food take out and watched too many episodes of What Not to Wear. More so I was catching up on annoying things like doing loads of laundry. I was putting clothes away in my room around 9:30pm when my doorbell rang three times. Who on earth could possibly be here? My roommate was out of town, and my friends were all out or on the other side of town. Well, in order to get to the door to look through the peep hole, I have to walk by a window that overlooks the front door. I creep out of my room only to see this person then knock on my neighbor’s door. I sneak over, look out the peep hole, and oh-my-gosh! there is a cop standing there holding a rifle! WHAT!?!

I open the door and ask “may I help you?”, to which he interrupts me to ask if my balcony overlooks the pool area. I tell him it does indeed and he starts to let himself into my condo. “Um, excuse me, may I see your badge please, officer?”. I get a very startled look to which I then explain that I am home alone and for all I know, he is not a cop (even though the serious look and 3 foot gun he was holding pretty much gave it away). He obliges and then proceeds to tell me that a guy is in our pool area with a gun. Again- WHAT!?!

He steps onto my balcony as I am turning off every light in my house so he can have a better look. It then really hits me how bizarre this situation really is- I have an armed cop on my balcony overlooking an armed gunmen and I am in my gym shorts and favorite bands t-shirt from the latest concert with leftover Chinese food fresh in my fridge and a half eaten fortune cookie on my coffee table. I can hear him on his walkie-talkie with the other cops in my complex and then he rushes back in my house asking if I have a key to access the clubhouse. I grab the key and ask him just what can he tell me of what is going on. Apparently the guy is suicidal and in my pool area and armed. He says he will bring my key back and fill me in as soon as they have it under control.

Of course I immediately call my best friend to share this unreal scenario to her as I am still in shock this is really happening. As she is calming me down, I hear lots of shouting and some guy yelling and then a crash of some sort. Then, nothing. About fifteen minutes later another cop is at my door with my key. He explains they have apprehended the guy, and he was supposedly armed with a stockpile of guns. A stockpile? Just what qualifies as a stockpile; two guns, three guns, more? And in my complex, this is just too much. The cop, in all his glory, then goes on to tell me how he wishes I could have seen it, all these cops with their guns on the guy and police dogs too. I give him a look that might as well say- yeah, sorry, didn’t feel like living a Law & Order episode tonight. He then attempts to assure me the area is safe, and they will have officers patrolling the area for the rest of the night.

Right. So much for a quiet night in.

did that really just happen?

2006-08-25T14:32:00.000-04:00

The other night my best friend and I were headed out to see one of my all-time favorite bands (who also will remain nameless, because like my baseball team, you either love ‘em, or hate ‘em). We were very excited as we had not been to one of their shows together in years. We used to be the types that would play all our favorite cd’s and songs on the way there, and then afterwards in the parking lot show off my “rare” cd’s I had of said band. However, my friend decided she wanted to drive and in agreeing to let her do so, we forgot my beloved cd collection. I of course wanted her to turn around and go all the way back to my place to get them, but seeing as we were already running late, we headed out to the show.

I don’t know if I will ever understand how there is still traffic at 7 o’clock at night, but traffic was even heavier this particular evening as a lot of people ventured out to see this band. We were moving along at a lovely 30 mph pace when a too-large-for-my-taste pick up truck decided to get in front of us in the carpool lane. Mind you, my friend has a very compact car, so this made the traffic seem even worse with a truck the size of my first apartment directly in front of us. This truck also seemed to be a little brake happy and we found ourselves constantly stopping short. Traffic gave up a little and we started picking up some speed when the truck decides to slam on his brakes. We both look in the rear view mirrors only to see a fast approaching sports car, who unsuccessfully tried to swerve into the other lane to avoid hitting us. CRUNCH!

We were in the carpool lane, and this kid swerved over to the left lane and kept going. My first thought was oh my gosh! he is not pulling over! But thankfully, he was trying to get over and pulled off to the side of the carpool lane. I have been in a fair share of accidents (none my fault, thankyouverymuch) and even one on a highway, but never during rush hour traffic. It was a very minor accident thankfully, but even with traffic not going at full speeds, it was scary being on the side of the road with very little room to check out the damage. Essentially, I was not able to get out of the car, as opening my door would have relived the gas station scene from Tommy Boy. Sadly, my friend reported that her bumper was trashed. The guy gets out of his car and my first thought was- is this kid even old enough to drive??

We do the exchange of the “oh my gosh” and “are you okay” spiel, to discover this guy (yeah he ended up actually being our age) is a decently nice guy. He then explains it is totally his fault (duh!) as his buddy just called him and asked him to go to the concert we were attending, and subsequently was in a hurry to get there. I tell him we are also on the way there, and the expression on his face says to us just how truly sorry he felt. Seeing the sadness on his face, I tell him he only has to worry if we miss any of our band. He and my friend take each other’s insurance information, and surprisingly, ten minutes later, we are back on the road.

All in all, it made for a rather interesting night. Thankfully no one was hurt, and the damage to my friend’s car was confined to her bumper. We made it to the show in time to catch one of the best performances I have seen yet.

the inbox.

2006-08-23T00:36:00.000-04:00

I have this slight problem with my email inbox. I am strangely attached to it. I read this article recently about people and their email inboxes and how the way they maintain it reflects on their personality types. Essentially, the individuals who clean out and delete all their emails immediately are obviously the type A-ers. This may however possibly mirror their too fast paced lifestyle as well. Then there are those who never empty their inbox and wait for it to get deleted for having been in there too long. They are clearly more laid back, or even lazy.

But then it said something about “hanging” on to emails. Basically that it equated it to holding on to something in life, that maybe wasn’t needing to be held on to, something you can’t let go of. That is my inbox. Not necessarily that I can’t let go of things, but I am a packrat with my non-work inbox. It must be because I am not a packrat in anything else in my life. I seriously have emails from people from a couple years ago. Isn’t it amazing what we can’t seem to delete?

But come to think of it, emails are the new correspondence, and back in the snail mail days, people kept letters all the time as keepsakes. So I question their statement and how it reflects on not being able to let go, or even being too cluttered. I mean really, when does the line blur between being sentimental and not being able to let something go?

Sentimental would be keeping that first cute email from a new significant other. Not being able to let go is keeping every email they every sent you…after you have broken up. The sentimental part of it is going back to a few old emails that were sent to you from friends or even family during memorable parts of your life. They are memorabilia akin to keeping old pictures, a birthday card from a good friend, or perhaps even the plane ticket stub from your first trip to Europe.

Maybe finding the happy medium with our email inboxes does parallel our lives more than we know. Either way, I seek solace in knowing my work email inbox is in the healthy category. At least part of my life can be balanced.

baseball.

2006-08-22T01:17:00.000-04:00

I have been an avid baseball fan since I could probably walk and talk. I won’t say which team I love (mostly because everyone else hates them), but I am a sucker for baseball season. There is something about baseball that is just so absolutely fantastic to me. I love catching games on TV, but you have to go to a few games a year to really take in the experience.

There are several elements of the at-game experience that are a must. First, the food- it is almost a requirement to get a hotdog (or Brat) and beer. And by the seventh inning, and maybe a couple of beers later, then come the nachos. Next, you have to rag on at least one player on the opposing team. I am not a fan of booing, but heckling, sure, why not. And finally, you have to sing your little heart out all the words to “Take Me Out to the Ballgame”. Side note- if you don’t know the words to this song, please try and learn them before attending a game.

I am finding however that the older I get, the less and less time I have for going to games and keeping up with my boys- that is what I call my team. I used to know the roster and the starting line ups like I was a bookie. I was the girl screaming at the blue for bad calls and yelling about how I could manage a team better than the skipper overseeing my boys during a slump. Now, I am lucky if I know where they stand as we approach the playoffs in the next month. Of course I had to just check and we are in first by quite a few games.

I even feel a bit of guilt as I say “we”, knowing that I have not taken the time to sit and watch one full game on TV this year. However, I did watch a bit of a great game last night when I was over at my friend’s house. I have known this girl for years and as long as I have known her, she has been a fan of an opposing team, in the opposing league. When we were younger we used to avoid all baseball talk during September and October. So I couldn’t help myself last night when I took a few cheap shots at her boys. She dished it right back to me and we had a good laugh at how we couldn’t bash each other’s teams like we used to. Ah, the good ol’ days.

With this in mind, I plan on catching more games on TV and hopefully will attend a few more games before the end of the official season. Best of luck to all the teams in wild card contention and those not in first place like my boys.

small world

2006-08-21T09:55:00.000-04:00

So I was sitting at a bar in Belfast, Maine, a little town 200 miles north of Boston, and this girl walks by. No, it's not that kind of story. She looked very familiar. I admit to having a little to drink with my meal -- I was eating alone after a very long trip from Washington to Belfast by way of a drive from Logan airport -- so a lot of things were looking familiar at that point.

On her way back from what I assume was the bathroom she stopped by my table. She said, Do I know you?

I responded "Are you here for a wedding?" I was in town for a close friend's wedding, he and I went to the same high school, traveled across the country together, etc., and I assumed that many of the guests in town were people from my hometown.

No. Did you go to Virginia or Columbia?

No, I didn't. You look really familiar. Did you ever live in Washington?

No. What's your name?

Lawsomnia. You?

Sharon. I went to {alma mater} for my first year of law school and then transferred.

Mystery solved. We were in the same first year class of law school and then she transferred to another school. I don't think we ever spoke, although she did date a friend of mine. The conversation quickly ended. She went to order her meal and I went outside to ponder the night.

I've gotten used to Washington being a small town. I have accepted that people I know will randomly know other people I know in ways that I could have never guessed. But this wedding was in the middle of nowhere: a town of 6,100 on the coast of Maine. The restaurant was chosen at random. And I knew her from a school nearly 1400 miles south, having briefly been in the same cohort three years ago.

I expected to run into people at the wedding who I had not seen in 20 years. And I did. But this was something else.

I'm leaving in a couple of hours for London and Prague and Bratislava in a few hours, which is one of the reasons why my friend polichic will be blogging for the next 10 days or so. I've known her for years and years and she'll do a great job of holding down the fort.

I'll try and jump online for a quick post or two if I have the chance. It will be fascinating to see who I run into over there. Most of my former classmates are traveling overseas right now, so we'll see how small the world has really become.

be my guest.

2006-08-18T02:03:00.000-04:00

I received a very flattering phone call this evening- I was asked to keep an eye on this blog. It just so happens that my friend will be leaving town for a much needed and well deserved vacation. This however results in this blog being without his presence for a short while. Therefore, he has asked if I will keep an eye on things and keep some level of entertainment going in his absence. I thought to myself, this could be exciting, I am in! This really was a truly flattering question.

And then, it hit me…I have never blogged before. What could I have to say that could possibly be of interest to anyone? I refuse to talk about work, I refuse to bore you with my take on politics and those are pretty important things to me. So I will do my best to try to entertain you with non work, non political happenings.

I began typing out some ideas of what I could write and figured I should hop online and see if I come across any form of inspiration to get the creative juices flowing. I am writing this, so I am not completely inept in the world of computers. I would even go so far as to say I am pretty capable when it comes to computers.

However, the whole wireless connection thing is just something I cannot get along with. My previous laptop was configured for wireless connection, or was it? I lost internet connection one night and after much useless self-diagnosis of the problem I broke down and called the Technical Support number. After being on hold for far too long, I finally reached someone. He began a series of troubleshooting I had already gone through. We tried this several times and he finally gave up as well.

He informed me that the very expensive router and wireless card adapter I had purchased that were advertised (on the boxes mind you) asWindows 98 and 2000 compatible, funnily enough, were not. It turns out there is no configuration for wireless on these outdated Windows series and I was the sucker that did not know this. The techie eventually gave up on my sad obsolete computer related problem and then proceeded to tell me that he would e-mail me instructions on how to further troubleshoot the problem. E-mail me? To where? I just got done telling you I can’t get online, were we having miscommunication now?

I have since moved on from aforementioned computer. I recently purchased a new laptop with lots of features, such as a DVD burner, more memory then I could ever need, and an internal wireless adapter. As I am typing this however, I am not connected to the World Wide Web, I am on hold with Tech Support. (Apparently I did not have the correct driver installed. Of course the solution was this easy.)

whole foods

2006-08-17T20:14:00.000-04:00

Dear Whole Foods,

I am not your typical customer. However, for the first shopping run of my new apartment I chose your convenient location on P Street. I admit I wanted to go to the Safeway on 17th and Corcoran, aka the Soviet Safeway, but no parking was available and I knew I would have too much food to carry. (I think the Salsa Safeway was probably closer, but I didn't think of it at the time).

There is some irony that your store, catering as you do to the hippy-dippy uber-organic grocery store crowd, provides free parking. Perhaps you have merely recognized that environmentalism is just another brand choice? Regardless, I've never seen so many SUVs parked in one place, except, perhaps, Georgetown.

Anyway, I squeezed my car in between two very badly parked Ford Explorers and took the elevator to the main floor. It was 5:30 on Thursday and that meant that the place was packed and people were going bonkers. I would have thought that the desire to be good to Mother Earth would create a desire to be respectful to other spiritual beings, but I am a stranger in a strange land.

I was cut off multiple times; people parked their carts in the aisles and stood talking, blocking traffic; children were allowed to scream without censure; and there was general frantic behavior. You'd think there was a sale at Dolce & Gabbana.

I have to say, W.H., if I may call you that, is that I couldn't find most of the food I was looking for -- at least in a recognizable form. What's the difference between Motts Apple Sauce and "365 Organic" Apple Sauce? About $1.50. Beyond that, although a glass container makes a lot of sense for grape juice, I don't have anywhere to recycle the glass, it is heavy, and the plastic takes less energy to create.

I do agree with you that organic meat makes health sense, but I'm not so concerned that the pancake mix is BGH free. And no one likes to be fooled by soy cheese. I cannot digest milk without taking a pill (which I couldn't find anywhere in your store), but I must ask that you at least don't hide the real stuff. I want the super-sharp cheddar made with real milk. Don't be ashamed of it: put it in front! And none of this no-fat milk, either. Eeech.

People born today live twice as long and four times as healthy as those born 100 years ago. My generation is about 3 inches taller than that of our parents. I don't smoke, drink soda, or eat fast food, and only occasionally drink. I'm healthy enough to make the choice of which poisons to put into my body.

As a separate issue, W.H., you do have attractive customers, which remains a plus in my book. But the Social Safeway has attractive customers-- and they will actually smile and make eye contact. So do most people on the street. What gives?

Before I come back I must ask that you start supplying brands I can recognize. The only familiar thing was Honey Nut Cheerios. Where was my pasta sauce? My non-biodegradable laundry detergent? My lemonaide mix?

Dinner tonight was a great caprese salad, made with the fresh ingredients from your store. But I can buy even fresher stuff from the farmers at Eastern Market or Dupont circle (on Sundays). I'd like for this relationship to work out, but you have to meet me halfway. How about regular whole wheat bread without nuts in it? Or some kind of discount?

Thanks for listening. Best regards,

LS

modern day sisyphus

2006-08-16T16:21:00.000-04:00

Were I ever to be placed in charge of punishing criminals, I would eschew chain gangs and prison camps in favor of the worst torture ever devised: the New Jersey Turnpike.

I do not know who designed that road or why it is always backed up, but condemning someone to travel up and down that road for a couple of months would cure even the most hardened recidivist. It is a black hole for time and sanity, a blot on the Eisenhower Interstate System, and a defining characteristic of New Jersey.

blonde girl in elevator

2006-08-10T23:05:00.000-04:00

Today I encountered such strange behavior that, when added to my experiences over the last few days, leads me to conclude that there must be something unusual going on here in DC.

Along with the two guys helping me move, we entered an elevator in my new apartment building at the same time as a current resident. The presence of a dolly clearly indicated moving-in type behavior. This blonde girl preceded us onto the elevator.

Once we were all inside, she made continuous eye contact with the floor while simultaneously pulling a book out of her bag. She then proceeded to read the book until we reached the lobby, all of 10 seconds later. This leads to a couple of questions:

Who reads a novel in an elevator?
Who actually leaves the apartment prepared for the contingency of elevator boredom?
What ever happened to the nod? The brief smile? The acknowledgement of another human's existence?
Odds are if someone is moving in you're going to see them again. Won't that be awkward?

I don't really spend much time worrying about human behavior. But a very similar thing happened again 30 minutes later. I was walking towards the elevator, another blonde girl was getting in, I was less than 2 seconds away, and she goes in and punches the button and the door closes. There wasn't anyplace else I could be going.

I don't look threatening. Tan shorts, green shirt, sneakers, combed hair, 5'8, slight build -- not exactly stylish, but not out of the ordinary at all.

Only later on was my faith in humanity redeemed when my neighbor across the way, seeing my door was open, came by and introduced herself. She was really nice. And a brunette. Correlation?

things of interest -- aug 10 06

2006-08-10T18:40:00.000-04:00

Here are a few web sites/articles I've found of interest this past week.

In the criminal justice system, the people are represented by two separate yet equally important groups. The indigent criminal defendants, however, get an attorney who passed the bar exam on his fourth attempt. This is that attorney's story. (Link)

Truth is stranger than fiction: a compilation of doctored media photographs. (Link)

A web browser that looks like microsoft word so you can surf in safety at work. (Link)

What your neighbors are wearing: a blog devoted to photographing fashion devotees. I guess jeans and a t-shirt isn't good enough for some people. (Link)

gulp

2006-08-10T18:27:00.000-04:00

I'm leaving for London in 10 days. I guess I won't bring any shaving cream or shampoo on the plane.

well traveled

2006-08-10T09:27:00.000-04:00

Somewhere in North Carolina I experienced paramnesia, a distortion of memory where objective experience and fantasy are confused. Nearby, cars change lanes like salmon charging upstream—lacking warning and pattern. The tires drone, undulating with metronomic regularity on uneven pavement. Loose coins clank like discarded armor, and the backseat, crammed with books and blankets and trinkets, heaves forward as the headlong pace slackens slightly.

I had left Atlanta once before. Then, as now, planning never to return. Then, as now, leaving comfort for challenge. I’ve been on this road before. I’ve been in this spot before. I’ve been at this time before.

There is duality.

Highway driving is a small death, a temporary release of the conscious. I drive without sound, unmoved while moving, quiet while contemplating.

The river of cars flow upstream.

I see myself in the mirror. Bright green eyes with yellow flecks overhung by eyebrows and underscored by lines. Those lines converge; diverge; crinkle. I step again into the river. It is the same. It is different. It is . . . familiar.

the occasional good deed

2006-08-09T16:15:00.000-04:00

I just received an email from the Hope Lodge of the American Cancer Society thanking me for donating my desk to them. The Hope Lodge is a residence provided at no cost to people undergoing outpatient cancer treatment, with 22 facilities nationwide (the nearest is in Baltimore).

The Decatur, Georgia chapter was my neighbor for the last three years and were the right choice for this gift, particularly considering my grandfather and grandmother both had cancer. I only feel guilty about how grateful the people at ACS were. I am not sure why that is.

It's always interesting to see what organizations people donate to. I found out that my father donates to Fidelco, an amazing organization in Connecticut that trains guide dogs. My grandfather gave money to the hospice that did an amazing job of taking care of him. My sister donates a lot of time with no-kill animal shelters.

I have usually donated time rather than money, whether it was at a nursing home or playing at a charity concert. Having developed legal skills over the last few years, I have helped out with various organizations that I believe do good work. Everyone in my family is an organ donor. The only entities that I cannot in good conscience support are those that fund missionary work, as I do not believe people should be given food only on the condition they pray to a particular deity.

It says something about Washingtonians that, in a city that has a large numbers of people who earn their living asking for money, we also have a strong volunteer culture.

my day around dc

2006-08-09T13:52:00.000-04:00

Did you know that Bob Taft has a statue in DC? Or even who he was?

Right next to the Capitol (barely in NW) is a towering monolith that reaches perhaps 100 feet into the sky. The monolith is surrounded by water and includes a carilon at the top. Facing towards the White House (with his back to the Capitol) is a bronze statue of Robert Taft, a three-time loser for the Republican presidential nomination. He looked like Ike to me.

I came across Bobby in my trek today from my apartment to Union Station and back. Although it was a nice walk to Dupont Circle, as many of you experienced, the Red Line was "turned around" at Judiciary (pronounced: ju-di-cu-wary) Square. In other words, no thru service to Union Station.

So everyone had to try to reroute their Metro plans when Metro finally decided to let us know there was a problem. Being out of practice, it was difficult to plan an alternate route without a map, so I ended up walking from Archives/Navy-Memorial to Union Station. I wanted to explore the city anyway, and it was a nice walk, although longer than I remembered.

As a side note to Metro officials: instead of describing the direction of a line as towards Glenmont or Shady Grove, why not call it east and west? That way, when you add new stations, you don't need to change all the signs, and instead of having to remember where Glenmont is, you can just remember which direction you have to go. With a little bit of imagination, pretty much every line can be described as north-south or east-west.

I finally made it to the Verizon store at Union Station, having gone there because Verizon customer service told me I needed to go there to set up internet service at my new apartment. Wrong. The Verizon store can help with cell phones, but they have essentially no connection to the land line providers. Talk about synergy. I did accomplish part of my mission: I am now the proud owner of a new phone with a DC phone number.

I stopped by the bookstore at Union station and was amused to see that Jessica Cutler's book "The Washingtonienne: A Novel" was located right next to "Why do men fall asleep after sex?" The two books might have been labeled cause and effect.

Upon leaving Union Station, after having one of the amazing butter and salt pretzels from Aunt Annies, I first thought that Metro might be repaired. Instead, the entrance was shuttered and people were directed to catch special busses. One look at the packed busses and I decided to walk to Capitol South Metro instead.

I was very impressed by Capitol's Visitor Center. It was to be completed by the 2004 Presidential inauguration. At least they're still kicking up dirt and keeping busy doing something. I guess they hired the guys who worked on the big dig in Boston.

The ride back was quick and uneventful. A badly-dressed man with a barely-attached toupee clothed in an ugly suit tried to push me out of the way on the escalator, first with his bag, and then his knee, but my old reflexes kicked in and he got nothing except to watch the back of my head. What an idiot. Only later did I realize his bad behavior was aimed at getting closer to the very attractive girl who was initially standing in front of me. He followed her onto the train and sat next to her, at which point she went and sat somewhere else. Ouch.

The highlight of my trip, though, had to be the window cleaners by Dupont circle. They weren't standing on a platform, but were just attached by a very long rope to the top of the building. One guy was swinging back and forth, covering two or three large windows at a time. He couldn't have been doing much to get it clean, but he looked like he was having a lot of fun.

embarrassed

2006-08-08T10:26:00.000-04:00

I am embarrassed by the number of typos in my blog. I finally figured out today why spell-check wasn't working -- firefox was silently blocking the pop-up window.

So expect better from future posts and don't hesitate to email when you see something amiss.

For your entertainment, you can now get your photograph taken with wax dummies of characters from star trek. Seriously.

Expected highlights of my day: a trip to Verizon at Union Station and to Target located somewhere off of route 1. With no sense of direction, this should be very entertaining. See you somewhere in Virginia.

reflecting on lieberman and mckinney

2006-08-07T16:51:00.000-04:00

I have edited this post to delete its contents. As a former resident of Connecticut and a citizen of Georgia's fourth congressional district, I felt I could make some neutral comments regarding the race. Upon reflection I have decided these thoughts are best kept to myself.

thank you officer hooper

2006-08-07T16:09:00.000-04:00

When I woke up this morning I immediately moved my car so as to avoid getting a parking ticket. Monday means street cleaning from 9:30-11:30, so I moved my car to the west side of a different street. Experience has taught me to be very careful where I park and to scour the area for parking restrictions. Sherlock Holmes may be able to divine the neighborhood from which a Londoner originated by the sod on his shoes, but I can tell where my car will be left unmolsted by the authorities by the metal droppings they leave all over our fair city.

So I parked, scoured the area for relevant signage, met with the super at my new apartment building, and generally went on with my business. Upon my return, at 1:30, fluttering like a DC flag in the breeze, was a $30 ticket.

I really don't consider it to be a parking ticket. It is a freedom ticket. It is a symbol of the revitalization of the nation's capital. It is an example of what it means to be an American.

In totalitarian regimes, the authorities don't need tickets. They simply haul off property, leaving at most an inscrutable note detailing a non-existent offense, have a kangeroo trial before faceless bureaucrats, and then demand payment.

By contrast, in the most free city of the oldest democracy on earth, you can walk right into an administrative hearing, located conveniently on C street, marshall your evidence, present the haiku-like ticket, and have a hearing before a caring functionary as to why you you are not culpable. Afterward, of course, when adjudicated guilty, you pay your fine.

So on behalf on Washingtonians everwhere, I tip my hat to Officer Hooper for ticketing my car for violating a street ordinance that disallows parking because of street cleaning between 12:30 and 2:30pm on Monday. You are a proud defender of what makes America great. Do not let the niceties of a lack of notice or an administrative mistake get in the way.

Please, however, allow me to suggest a different comment. You wrote "No Parking, Street Cleaning. 12:30p-2:30P Monday." I suggest the following Haiku:

No Parking Allowed
We Must Keep Out City Clean
Eleven to One

or

Small scrap of ticket
Windshield wiper holds you tight
in its embrace: pay

what happened to logan circle?

2006-08-07T11:58:00.000-04:00

After 11 hours on the road, I pulled into DC last night. Tired and cranky, I was happy to be home. As I drove up 14th street to my new neighborhood, there were many changes, and the biggest one was in Logan circle.

There were yuppies as far as the eye could see. Yuppies. Beyond 16th Street. What is the world coming to?

It looked like someone had taken an Abercrombie & Fitch gun and blasted everyone in sight.

I can't say I object to pretty girls in spaphetti- strap dresses strolling down the street, shops selling their wares in the late evening, or the new sidewalks and traffic lights, but this is not the city I remember.

Although when I saw my new apartment today, all 480 square feet of it, things started to feel familiar. I am so happy to be back.

mutiny on the bounty

2006-08-04T16:39:00.000-04:00

FEMA just declared my apartment a federal disaster area.

Or at least they should, considering all the detritus strewn haphazardly on every flat surface. Today we signed the contract to hire movers-- they come tomorrow. Three years of crap must be packed, labeled, and shipped by 9am. When it will arrive -- no one knows.

I've been meaning to tell you about my lunch yesterday with a girl who completely blew me away, but that will have to wait. The tale of leaving friends behind will also be for another time.

I'll try and write from the road, but I won't really be computer-accessible until my arrival in DC on Sunday, and even then I'll have to steal someone's wireless.

Shhhhh. Don't tell anyone. I would never engage in piracy.

Anyone want to join me for a welcome-back lunch? I am so happy to be home again. It's been a long time coming.

bloggers rule

2006-08-02T13:40:00.000-04:00

I realize that I've violated most of the rules of good blogging etiquette, my dear readers, and I do apologize.

In atonement, here are what appear to me to be the "rules" for having a widely-read personal blog. I make no pretence that this one has more than a few dozen readers on a daily basis, that I follow the rules, or that these rules are in any kind of order of importance.

1. Frame your subject. Many successful blogs have a common conceit that frames the subject matter. Waiterrant uses his restaurant; Clublife has his club; WilWheaton has his stardom, etc. Staying with this common pov establishes a longer story arc and allows the slow unveiling of details.

2. Layout. 1 to 2 sentences per paragraph. No funny backgrounds. Clean lines.

3. Write clearly. College level language is appropriate, but don't make people run for the dictionary. Use spell-check. Don't use emoticons, sentence fragments, cutesy language. Vary sentence length for power and tone of voice.

4. Post regularly. Post 2-3 times per week at least. But don't post crap. If you think it's bad, it is. However, if it's been a while since you posted anything, post something! Don't let people think you've died. It's like watching snow on a tv-- people just won't wait.

5. No outside links inside text. Or, at a minimum, if you do place links in the text of your post, put them at the bottom so people read all the way through.

6. Sex. Sex and personal details attract. It's not my style, but there are a lot of "dating" blogs out there. Just don't identify anyone or you're liable to get sued.

7. Wait. Don't write drunk, and generally do not post at the same time you write. Edit. Polish. Edit. It's rather annoying if you repost.

8. Trade links. Offer to permanently link to someone else's blog if they link to yours. It's probably best to ask people who have similar areas of interest to you.

9. Anonymous email address or IM. No explanation necessary.

10. Get listed. There are a lot of blogrolls based upon both area of interest and geography. Get listed.

11. Stat counter. Put a stat counter on your blog. It'll let you know who is reading what and where they come from. It's good to see what posts people like, and also makes you feel better when no one posts any commens. I had one post with 2000 readers and 4 comments. Go figure.

12. Notes. As you come up with ideas, jot down notes. People are creative at different times, so just keep some ideas on hand.

13. KISS. Keep it simple, stupid. If you have enough stuff to write 3 pages, write 3 posts of 1 page each. People aren't looking for Liebnitz. (Also, watch the obscure references).

14. List. When all else fails, make a list. Just kidding. Lists suck.

slips of the tongue

2006-08-02T10:27:00.000-04:00

Recently there's been a lot of discussion of the right to privacy and defamation in general.

Congressman Murtha is being sued by a Marine Corp staff sergeant for making defamatory statements regarding the marine unit's conduct regarding their alleged killing of civilians in Iraq. See Washington Post article. Jessica Cutler of Washingtonienne notoriety is being sued for public disclosure of private facts-- for blogging the details of her sexual relationships with her co-worker (and Sen. DeWine's counsel) Robert Steinbuch. See Slate article.

What is defamation? What is public disclosure of private facts? **

These are both torts. In plain English, they are claims brought by people, not the government, for some kind of harm they have suffered, and the claim can be for anything recognized at law except for breaches of contract.

Defamation

Defamation is a tort that has to do with saying or writing something about someone else that harms them. It may involve First Amendment concerns, if the "speech" has to do with a matter of public concern. Please note that I'll be discussing the common law version of defamation -- the actual definition varies by state.

Common Law Elements

Here are the common law elements of defamation: (1) Defamatory language, (2) Of or concerning the plaintiff, (3) Publication of that language by the defendant to a third person, and (4) Damage to the plaintiff's reputation.

These four elements have a whole lot of wiggle room, vary state to state, and the words have very specialized meaning. For example, "publication" does not necessarily mean putting the statement in a newspaper. Merely telling someone else is enough for publication.

The standard for the fourth element, damage to the plaintiff's reputation, depends on whether the defamatory statement is libel (written) or slander (spoken).

For libel, the court will presume damages (actual injury), so the plaintiff need not prove damages.

For slander, under the common law, the plaintiff must prove special damages. That is, that the plaintiff suffered some kind of monetary loss to be able to recover. There are four exceptions to having to prove a monetary loss.

The exceptions are if the statement (a) adversely reflected on one's conduct in a business or profession, (b) that one has a loathsome disease, (c) that one was/is guilty of a crime involving moral turpitude, or (d) a woman is unchaste.

This is all a bit antiquated, but basically if you are libeled you are presumed to have suffered some kind of harm, and if you are slandered you must prove you've lost money.

Matters of Public Concern: Additional Elements

If the defamation is regarding a matter of public concern, there are additional elements that the plaintiff must prove to make his case.

A matter of public concern is one that involves either a public official or a matter of public concern.

The additional elements that a plaintiff must prove are (5) falsity of the defamatory language and (6) fault on the part of the defendant.

Whether the matter regards a public official or is one of public concern, falsity just means that the plaintiff has the burden of proving that the statement is false. Truth is an absolute defense, so if someone says something that is absolutely horrible -- but true -- there is no defamation.

Fault is a much harder concept. The level of fault that must be proved depends on who the plaintiff is.

The plaintiff must prove malice if he is a public figure in order to establish fault.

Malice, according to the supreme court, is either making a defamatory statement (1) knowing that the statement was false, or (2) recklessly disregarding whether it was false.

The concept of public figure is a bit murky, but it is basically someone who is either well-known or has voluntarily taken on a central role in a particular public controversy. For example, Linda Tripp in the Monica Lewinsky matter would be considered a public figure in that she voluntarily took on a central role in a particular public controversy. Usually celebrities and politicians are easy examples of public figures.

If the matter is one of public concern, but the plaintiff is not a public figure, the plaintiff must prove negligence. Negligence is a very difficult and complicated concept, but it basically means that a person did not act in a way that a reasonable person in a similar situation would have acted. The person has essentially been careless.

The plaintiff in a defamation case must prove all of the above if it involves a public figure or matter of public concern. But it's still not the end of the ball game.

Defenses to defamation

If the defendant proves the plaintiff consented to the defamatory statement, the plaintiff loses. Truth is also a complete defense.

In addition, some people have a privilege to make a defamatory statement.

Remarks made by legislators in debate, by federal officials, remarks made during judicial proceedings, and between spouses are absolutely privileged and constitute a complete defense. So if you watch a legislative debate on c-span, those statements are privileged.

Furthermore, some statements may have a qualified privilege. Reports regrading official proceedings, defense of one's actions or property or reputation, etc. are permissible and will prevent a successful defamation suit. However, if the statement isn't within the scope of the privilege or the speaker acted with malice, the qualified privilege disappears.

Public Disclosure of Private Facts

Although related, public disclosure of private facts is a very different tort than defamation. Public disclosure of private facts is one of the four "invasion of the right to privacy" torts.

The other right to privacy torts are: appropriation of the plaintiff's picture or name (for commercial advantage), intrusion upon the plaintiff's affairs or seclusion (must be something private), and publication of facts placing the plaintiff in a false light (attributing beliefs to someone that they do not hold).

Public disclosure of private facts involves disclosing private information about someone. A reasonable person must find the disclosure objectionable. It does not matter if the statement is true or false. Truth is no defense. Nor is good faith, lack of malice, etc.

The elements are (1) publication or public disclosure by defendant of private information about the plaintiff; and (2) the matter made public is such that a easonable person would object to having it made public.

There is also no need to prove special (economic) damages. Just mental anguish and emotional distress are enough.

If the disclosure is of legitimate public interest, the first amendment will protect the publication so long as it was not made with malice.

I will not comment (and have not formed an opinion) regarding the facts or merits of the suits against Ms. Cutler or Rep. Murtha. But people have been throwing around the terms defamation and right to privacy very loosely, and I thought it might be beneficial to the debate to have a better definition of those terms available for the discussion.

If you are really curious, I suggest you get a copy of the parties' pleadings and see what they have to say and make a judgment for yourself.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
** Please note this does not constitute legal advice. If you believe you have a claim regarding defamation or right to privacy, go get a lawyer. Also, Dahlia Lithwick rocks.

moving due diligence

2006-08-01T13:28:00.000-04:00

I know my last post on how to find a moving company was dry, but there are some juicy stories as to why to CYA.

One company I researched had changed their name four times and had six different shell companies. They had also gone bankrupt in 2001 and 2003 and had two fatal accidents in the last two years.

Another company claimed to do cross-country moves, but only had one truck and one listed driver. That's a scam: they are a broker who give your work to someone else, who will probably rip you off.

A third company sent an exquisitely detailed estimate. However, if you read the fine print, and know what the terms mean, it is easily revealed to be an illusory contract where they will in actuality extort as much money as they can from you on the day of the move.

A fourth company, after doing a little research, was well known for pretty much demolishing everything they moved. Broken china, smashed up furniture, tons of litigation, and disappearing principals who -- surprise, surprise -- would simply go on to found another company.

This is a very shady business. I've found maybe 3 or 4 companies who can do a move from Atlanta to DC that aren't shady and have enough experience to actually get me there.

Trying to book the week of the move, however, isn't the most brilliant thing I've ever done, either.

It is a pleasure, by the way, to receive tons of emails and phone calls from these companies trying to get me to use their services. I've had a number of conversations that were going well until I pulled up the BBB info and asked why they had received an unsatisfactory rating.

Responses included: "I don't know what you're talking about. You can speak with my manager." "Customers were just unhappy because their property didn't arrive until the end of the 10-day window." "We've had no complaints. Maybe you're looking up the wrong company." "{Dialtone}"

My roommate set up a meeting with an estimator to come and visit the apartment today. He and his girlfriend waited around from 9-12. The guy never showed. When he called to find out what happened, the company said that the estimator would just stop by tomorrow. Right.

I just want to get there already. I can almost taste the Thai food from Rice. mmmm.

moving

2006-07-31T13:37:00.000-04:00

This blog isn't about useful, practical advice. However, if you are moving interstate, here's some useful links/info (it'll save you a ton of time). Note: do not rely on an internet search for movers.

From lots of painful experience, to start your search, here's what I suggest:

(1) Read the general information from the federal government on moving. There's a brochure or two in pdf format which are good for background.

(2) Read the information on disreputable companies and moving scams. This will give you a sense of how to actually research the companies (yes, this is sadly necessary).

(3) Generate a list of companies from a list of specially certified movers. You will be able to choose an entity based in your hometown that has good nationwide links and a great reputation.

(4) Having generating the list, you need to call and set up times for moving company estimators to visit you to give a quotation for moving expenses. But first, run the information through

the snapshot
the bbb; and
do a search for the company's name on the discussion board forum

(5) Enjoy the company of a moving company estimator

(6) Compare estimates and book.

Here are my sources for this mini-article

Federal Government General Information -- provides a lot of useful advice.
Moving Company Info -- number of trucks, safety record, nature of the company
Better Business Bureau -- it won't tell you if the company is a broker or the actual mover, but will let you see the number of complaints about the company
Activist website: List of disreputable companies and moving scams -- lots of information provided by someone who was scammed and is fighting back
Industry website -- has general information. But, most importantly, contains a list of movers certified by the industry who are the least likely to be scam artists.

pruning

2006-07-31T11:47:00.000-04:00

About once a year I go through my cell phone and delete names and numbers.

I realize that I can probably keep several hundred names in the phone, but I'm already floating around the 250 mark and all these extra names offend my sense of aesthetics and reduce scrolling speed.

While waiting at the airport to pick up my roommate, I began the hunt.

The first to go were direct lines to which I already had the switchboard number. Several businesses were reduced to a single point of contact. Direct lines are great, but a simple internet search (or jog through Outlook) can easily yield that information.

Next to go were acquaintances who had moved out of town. If I hadn't spoken with the person in a year, we only talked for a long since past specialized purpose, or I couldn't imagine a situation where we'd need to get in contact, that person was out.

Then there was the situation of false friends. Some people, through the passage of time, are revealed to not be who I thought they were. Those who turned out to be manipulators, two-faced, users, or otherwise unsavory characters whom I do not expect to deal with again were eliminated. Sadly, there were a few on this list.

Finally, I had to make decisions regarding romantic interests. There are a couple of women over the last year or two with whom there was a connection, but sadly nothing came of it. The deletions were an exorcism of the ghost of possibility so that I can move on and have space to add someone new.

I will have to face the possibility of having an incoming call where I don't recognize the number, but having come of age in the pre-cell pre-caller-ID era, the simple one-word answer to that problem is "hello."

fatigue

2006-07-30T21:14:00.000-04:00

For the last couple of days there have been times when I've had no energy and been absolutely wiped out despite getting more than enough sleep. The roommate is the same way, as are other people who took the bar exam.

I don't know what they did to us, but I'm ready to get back to normal. I can barely keep my eyes open now, and it's not even 9:30. How long does this last?

I'll write something better in the next day or two.

you can't fight in here: this is the war room

2006-07-29T12:11:00.000-04:00

By Peter Sellers
Staff Writer
Saturday, July 29, 2006

DENVER, Colorado -- After four decades of operation, NORAD's Cheyenne Mountain underground lair will no longer run day-to-day operations in the event of nuclear war, according to General Hammond, a military official formerly associated with the facility.

"In today's political climate, threats will not come in the form of nuclear missiles launched over the polar ice caps, but rather terrorists with suitcase nukes, biological weapons contained in aerosol cans, and the repurposing of commonly-available technology for nefarious ends. As such, there is no longer room in the FY 2007 budget of $441 billion for such a facility."

General Jack O'Neill confirmed the facility would be transfered to the Department of Energy's ID4 division, which would reconfigure the facility to produce heavy water for civilian nuclear projects.

Professor Stephen Falken, senior scientist with ID4, said Thursday "Ironically, the edifice complex, created to survive nuclear war, will now be used to promote peaceful nuclear activities. It will create heavy water and keep it pure."

The War Operations Plan Response program, formerly housed in the mountain, will be moved to a nearby office building. A very quiet end to a forty-year long program whose motto was the only way to win is not to play.

why i love dc

2006-07-27T12:26:00.000-04:00

Although it's easy to criticize life in DC, I prefer to think about all the things I like about Washington and why I chose here over everywhere else. For example . . .

The Metro rocks. Although it's easy to knock the dysfunctional escalators, the Metro is clean, efficient, quiet, cheap, and takes you most everywhere you want to go. For someone like me with no sense of direction and little desire to fight street traffic, all you have to do is hop underground. Plus, there's no worries about having to drive home after going to a bar or club. There's just no comparison to cities without mass transit.

There are neighborhoods, not just subdivisions. Whether it's sitting on your porch watching life go by after a hard day's work (16th Street Heights) or going to Mt. Pleasant Day or grabbing lunch at Eastern Market or listening to a brass band at Dupont Circle or eating at "The Diner"at 2am in Adams-Morgan or catching a show at the Black Cat, there are tons of things to do, and every kind of person to meet. We are not living in homogenous suburbia, and traveling a couple of blocks is the difference between lunch at Dos Gringos and The Palm.

The people are interesting. Many people are well read and highly educated. A large number have traveled, and a fair number have lived overseas or come from another country. Many of the remainder are transplants to DC and have their own interesting stories and backgrounds. Their jobs are interesting: from international development to information technology to policymaking to policing, work for many isn't just a way to pay the bills. The NGOs alone cover all the vagaries of human existence.

A lot of people are passionate about what they do and ambitious about wanting to be more involved. From the girl who competes in salsa competitions to the guy who builds furniture to the friends who travel the country helping out in political campaigns, these are people who put their heart into what they do. And if for whatever reason you get bored, boatloads of new people arrive daily.

Dating is interesting. Like everywhere, people complain about the available "market", but I've been generally impressed with the women I've met. They are usually smart, accomplished, interesting, cultured, not overly self-centered, know who they are, and are generally passionate about what they do (or want to do). The only hard part is getting people to slow down enough that you can actually get to know them.

Just a few other things that deserve honorable mention:

Eastern Market
The monuments at night
Picnic at Gravelly Point Park among the lightning bugs
A lively magazine/newspaper/blog culture
Hot interns
Good restaurants everywhere -- especially rooftop cafes
Sidewalks
The sense of history -- both what's past and what's being made
Screen on the Green/ Jazz at the Hirshorn/ Free concerts/ Shakespeare in Rock Creek Park
Streets that go in alpha/numerical order
The free Smithsonian museums and Thursday night art walk
Supermarkets with nicknames: the social Safeway, the salsa Safeway, the UnSafeway, etc.

While we have crime and humidity and dysfunctional government, there's no where else I'd rather live.

not me

2006-07-26T21:32:00.000-04:00

I'm back at my apartment for a quick turn-around to go back out again, but I have to say: that just sucked.

Regardless of what PMBR or BarBri says, you can't prepare for the bar exam, and the test is like getting beaten by drunken monkeys with razor-sharp claws for three hours, break for lunch, another three hours of merciless beatings, then repeat a second day.

The only hope of passage is knowing that everyone else around you is suffering, and that all you have to do is just slightly better than the bottom ten/twenty percent of all test takers. Out of the hundred people from my law school taking the local bar exam, statistically four will fail. Which means 96 will pass.

Of course, we're all thinking: not me, not me, not me, not me.

No more tests, ever. I hope.

the eagle has landed

2006-07-24T16:04:00.000-04:00

The eagle has landed . . . and continues to land at the rate of one per minute. The Georgia International Convention Center is located right next to -- within one mile -- of Hartsfield-International Jackson Airport, the busiest airport in the US.

Although one might presume that a hotel such as the one I'm staying in would have soundproofed the rooms, that would be an error. I can distinctly hear a plane landing as well as a train nearby blowing its horn. Sheeeeeeeeeeeeeaaaaaaaaaaaaaawwwwwwwwhhhhhhhhhhhh.

If I hadn't asked to be moved, the hotel managers had also placed me in a room directly under a stairway that leads to the second floor. Clump. Clump. Clump. At least this room only smells like mildew.

I've been pretty good about not working today, although I might look at a few essay questions just to get, well, in the mood.

I did a dry run to the Convention Center. It took me about 2 minutes to get there, and about a half-an-hour to get back. Atlanta is unique in that it has 93 street in the metro area all named Peachtree, and roads that curve around with no purpose and change name with no reason. After three city-wide fires, you'd think someone would straighten that out.

I miss DC's numbered and lettered streets. Even state streets like Florida Avenue makes sense -- it was the boundary line of DC at one point, separating the city from Columbia's Heights. (That's not a typo). Try hiking up 15th Street at Florida -- it's a beautiful view, but a steep climb.

I hesitate to leave the hotel at this point, mostly because 4-7 is a traffic twilight zone where nothing moves and no one escapes. I'll be in bed by 10 again, so after 7 there's just no point. I guess I'm in for the night.

NB: how quaint, I'm connected by a old-fashioned dial-up phone line.

go time

2006-07-24T09:50:00.000-04:00

In 22 hours I'll start taking the bar. I'm taking today (mostly) off in the hopes that I'll be rested enough to do well. The last four days have been difficult, as I've been pretty burnt out, and found it tough to do any real kind of review.

I've got the hotel room, directions, snacks, pens, my computer, clothes, and some study aides if I panic later on. All I need to do is figure out what to do with myself for the rest of today.

I sent out a mass email to my friends and family to let them know about my plans for the next few months, and apologizing to those I've been out of touch with. It's really interesting how people respond to those kinds of things.

Most, understanding that I need to stay focused, sent kind emails or updates of their own. That was pretty considerate. I really enjoyed hearing from those people that school has separated me from, and those who welcomed me back to the city.

A few tried to call at 10pm at night, which was not appreciated at all. A phone call is a lot more personal, but it is a lot more time demanding as well. Better to wait on that for a couple of days. I'm not even going to listen to the voice messages until Thursday.

So . . . movies? exercise? book? television? Time to plan how I'm going to distract myself.

I'll try and post something tomorrow and Wednesday, but odds are it's not going to happen. I'm writing pretty early today for that same reason.

I'll see you on the other side.

Humanitarian Reprieve Rebuffed While Tensions Mount

2006-07-23T20:02:00.000-04:00

By Lex Julia
Special to the Washington Post

ATLANTA, Georgia, July 23 -- Despite mounting calls for a humanitarian repreive, law students around the country prepare to take the bar examination on Tuesday and Wednesday while suffering repeated assaults from well-wishers.

The climbing civilian toll and vast number of migrants, here in Atlanta and across the country, led to renewed appeals from families and friends for an immediate truce and swift response to the humanitarian crisis created by two months of unrelenting study.

Bar examiners and legal practitioners remained firm in their demands that students undergo extensive examination, claiming it is "only fair" that students go through the same examination "hell" to which they were subjected long ago.

Some students reject that argument, believing that a more humane system would accomplish the same purpose: preventing too many people from gaining a law license while maintaining an appropriate level of competence. Others welcome the challenge, but only in earshot of managing partners.

The current conflict has sharpened the strains considerably. Relief workers are bringing food and water to the sleep-deprived students. Although it is likely that many will pass the test, it is clear that all applicants cannot.

hug a lawyer

2006-07-22T20:31:00.000-04:00

I work up at 6am with a sunburn and sore jaw. The root of the cause is the same.

Yesterday my roommate and I went to the pool to take a break from studying. Of course, he took his multistate practice test book and I brought my "Wills" outline. After a quick dip, we both returned to our lounge chairs, and although surrounded by beautiful women and a crystal blue sky, averted our eyes to the study materials instead.

Unfortunately the sun, even at 3:30, is strong enough to burn someone whose only exposure in the last two months to UV rays came from flourescent lighting. We weren't there long, but it was long enough.

The jaw pain, apparently, is the result of my grinding my teeth during the night. Now, I have never done this before. Only the weird dreams of not being prepared for a test (big surprise, right?) gave me a clue as to why my gums felt on fire for the last two days.

The bar exam is Tuesday and Wednesday. I can't wait until this is all over. The results should be in . . . by November. I really hope I pass. I don't want to do this again.

If you see a thin 5'8 slightly sun-burnt man with dark circles underlining hazel eyes, unkempt wavy brown hair, a large bookbag filled with legal materials and flash cards, and the general appearance of someone in his early to mid twenties who's rather distracted-- I could use a hug. Or a time machine. I want my summer back.

Wedding Season -- priceless

2006-07-21T13:25:00.000-04:00

Airfare from DC to Boston (one stop in NYC) and back: $210

Parking at Dulles for 54 hours: $21

Economy-size car rental for Friday to Sunday, with AAA discount: $100

Gas for 4 1/2 drive to the middle of Maine and back: $50

Cheapest hotel at the height of tourist season, 2 nights: $210

Wedding present: TBD

Your best friend's small beach-front wedding: priceless

Being invited to three weddings in one summer: incalculable

night shift

2006-07-20T22:20:00.000-04:00

As of tomorrow, I'm getting up at 6am through Wednesday. I've been fortunate to escape having to do that since high school, but the bar exam requires my presence on Tuesday no later than 8am, and I don't want to be late.

More importantly, I don't want to be so tired I can't function.

My aunt regularly gets up at 5:30am and likes it; my father is also a morning person. But I am a night person. Let me sleep until ten, and watch me work all day long. Get me up at 7, and I'll crash several times during the day, do sub-par work, and generally be miserable.

It's too bad that there aren't reasonable accommodations for those of us who function better latter in the day. Some offices offer flex schedules, but most follow the usual 8:30-5 workday.

Think about all the additional productivity created if office hours were more flexible. Imagine how nice it would be to call an office at 7pm and get a person, not a voicemail.

Alas, I'll just have to dream on.

Pre-L Class of 2009

2006-07-19T23:26:00.000-04:00

Today I met the newest member of the School of Law's Class of 2009. She was there with her sister and father, touring the building, annoucing that she had just decided to accept, and wondering about the huge size of the classrooms.

She's from a little town in the middle of nowhere Georgia, and gave off a very friendly, happy vibe.

I cannot imagine how I must have appeared to her. Unshaven, bloodshot, sprawled on a couch with a Contracts outline in one hand and a Coke in the other. I did manage to smile at her enthusiasm and say a few nice words, but what wasn't yet dead inside wanted to scream a warning.

Here's my advice instead:

Enjoy the summer before you start. Once there, it's a grind that doesn't let up-- day and night, weekday and weekend, summer and school year. The only escape is that brief period of time after you take the bar exam. I'll let you know how that goes in a few days.

Make sure you know what you want to do with your life before you get there. Law school is not the place to find yourself, but rather the place you go to get a skill to pursue your dreams. If you don't know what you want, find out now. It can open the wrong doors as well as the right ones, so choose wisely.

This is not an intellectual exercise, but rather an endurance test. Don't expect great philosophical discussions. Do expect delving into the intricacies of the federal rules of civil procedure. 12(b)(6) is my personal favorite. Find yours.

Don't worry about getting into the best school you can, unless it's one of the top five. Otherwise, I recommend going to the second or third best school you get into. Your class rank and being on Journal is much more important than the school itself, so it's best to compete against people who aren't quite at your level. That seems strange, but most employers cherry pick from the top few students regardless of how good the school is. Rarely will they go deeper into the class.

If there's a part of the country you want to be in, you should go to school there. That'll help you find a job much more easily. If that seems like an esoteric concern now, it won't be in a few months when the whole job search insanity begins.

Career services sucks. Universally. If you want a job, you're going to have to find it on your own. Make lists, contacts, connections. Start early.

It's important to get to know your classmates, but also know that lawyers have earned their reputation. A lot of them will want to play head games, make themselves seem more important, or generally act like jerks. Don't fall into that trap. Make friends with the few genuine people and play as nicely as possible with the rest. They'll all be your colleagues someday. Unless they end up in jail.

Study aides are the way to go. Don't worry what everyone else is doing, and don't trust your professor to let you know how s/he is going to test you. Read the book if you must, but grab the professional outlines, q&a books, and whatever else seems useful. The best way to learn is to engage the material, no matter how dry. Just don't talk in class: everyone will hate you.

This seems obvious, but if you're single, don't hook up with anyone in your section. Do you really want to see them every day? In every class? With tons of gossip? This doesn't apply to the 3 of you who will marry your study partners, but as a general rule, it's not all that wise to date intramurally.

It's also wise to be wary of dating upperclassmen. On one hand, they can show you the ropes. On the other, in every group of people there are predators. Be careful. They're waiting.

Make friends outside of school. They won't get what's going on with you, but at least you'll have some levelheaded people to hang out with and do fun things.

Although you may get a recommendation to simply focus on your work and cut off your family and friends, that would be foolish. You need to work hard, but keep a balance.

Exercise. Daily, if you can.

If you have a blog, don't tell anyone else about it. Don't talk about grades. People are really insecure. If you have an interview not during class, don't wear a suit to class. Resentment makes the whole thing that much worse.

Get as much experience outside of the school as you can. Work for local practitioners. Volunteer. Get involved in the local bar association. This applies more to second and third year than first year students.

This seems silly, but stay away from alcohol. Attorneys have the highest rates of drug abuse. If you're going to drink, don't drink that much, and make sure you have a ride. Incidentally, doing illegal drugs is the best way to waste a whole lot of money: if you're caught, you won't pass the bar fitness exam.

Karma: share your outlines with underclassmen. Take a couple under your wing. Get involved in a club or two that you really care about. Be a good citizen. It won't help your grades, but people ultimately want to work with those they like. And it's a lot more fun.

And remember that there's a reason why the big firms pay the big bucks. If you were trapped in an office 12 hours a day trying to prevent a major polluter from the legal consequences of giving thousands of people cancer, all while doing the most mindnumbingly boring research, you'd get paid a lot too. And billing in six minute increments sucks.

As a first year: keep your head down, make nice, play fair, work hard, make outside friends, keep score.

Good luck. And welcome to law school.

away messages and signature lines

2006-07-18T22:16:00.000-04:00

I'm sure the boffins in geekopolis who invented email and instant messaging thought signature lines and away messages were brilliant ideas.

Your contact information will be automatically inserted into your emails!

If you're otherwise occupied, tell people you'll be right back!

Alas, these functions have become more and more perverted over time. Email signatures now contain political tracts, quotations from the bible, and unfunny jokes. Instant message auto-responses contain pearls of wisdom like "I'm in the bathroom right now" and "get the real news from lyndon larouche by clicking here."

I don't mind when my friends send me messages they think might be interesting, but professionals should act professionally. It just reflects poorly -- like flip flops at work.

I won't even start about people who wish you a "blessed day" over the phone. Thanks for proselytizing -- click! Have a nice day.

178 hours

2006-07-17T22:08:00.000-04:00

In 178 hours I will be 6 minutes into the esaay portion of the bar exam. I'm not usually this much of a navel-gazer, but I have just about every moment between now and then pre-programmed. I am now visibly tense.

This morning, as I was leaving for the library, several workmen knocked at our front door. My roommate has been studying in the apartment, and they needed to come in and rip up his toilet and turn off the water to repair a leak in the apartment below.

They didn't know how long it would take. They didn't know if they'd have to come back. He nearly freaked out right there. Somewhere there's a yogi who felt a disturbance in the force.

Fortunately, all is relatively well, and they just need to do a little sheet-rock tomorrow. Otherwise, it'd be a full moon for the neighbors. The Geneva Convention has outlawed chemical warfare as well.

As a side note, after $500 for PMBR, three days of dedicated classes, and three hours devoted to criminal law and procedure, I scored exactly the same as I had before the whole thing started. And have lost all that time. Fantastic.

Back to work.

people you encounter during BarBri #1: human lawn mower

2006-07-16T23:32:00.000-04:00

I've found a nice quiet sunny spot in a cavenous room, the Hansel and Gretel room, in which to study. Although it would be appropriately named considering its devouring of many a person's evenings and weekends, the nickname comes from a more prosaic source: a bastardization of the law firm that sponsored its construction.

Amongst its stacks and shadows many students are hunched over their outlines and practice exams. Most had inserted ear plugs to block out the noise, resembling an army of Frankenstein's monster with blue bolts sticking out of their ears.

About a quarter past three a woman in her late twenties ambled in, dragging her books in a rolling bag. She took a seat in the back of the room, and it became clear something odd was going on.

Like many people in a heavily polluted city, she cleared her throat. Loudly. That happens. And then she did it again.

This was the throat-clearing sound that old people make. The gargling/coughing/choking sound. I've never heard something that old come out of someone that young.

And then she did it again. I -- along with everyone else -- am hearing this loud and clear. My earplugs can quiet helicopters and acid rock. But apparently not this. She is a basso profundo of flem.

Of all the rooms in the library, only one is devoted to completely silent studying. The bar exam is in 8 days. Most people are putting in ten hour days. And we have been joined by the human lawn mower.

Students start peeking over their carrels, giving dirty looks. They've had a lifetime of practice. The sneers and snarls are perfectly calibrated.

Some start to leave. After another few minutes of exasperated hope, I gather up my belongings and make a run for another part of the library.

It's not sunny there. The room's a bit cramped. There's more movement. But at least it's quiet.

moving on up

2006-07-14T20:51:00.000-04:00

Congratulate me -- I'm the proud new lessee (of an estate for years, 'natch) of a 480 square foot efficiency apartment in Washington, D.C. My monthly rent has tripled, my square footage has divided in third, and I'm about five steamy blocks from the metro. I can't wait to get to DC to move in. Just in time for the crime wave.

The last time I lived in Washington it wasn't like this at all--except for the crime. Sure, it was difficult to find a cheap place, but I managed two rooms and a bathroom in a beautiful house in a less desirable part of town for only $600/month. I have really enjoyable, albeit hazy memories of sitting with my neighbors on my front porch as we drank wine, ate hors d'ouevres, and watched the sun go down.

Arrayed around the porch was the brash radio reporter, an insurance company executive and his very friendly yet rather elderly dog, a project planner for a non-profit, a Congressional staffer, a lawyer of some variety, a paramedic, and various other people from the neighborhood who would stop by. Some represented the old solidly-middle class African-American neighborhood, others represented the newer wave of gay homeowners, and I was a representative of the young crowd of renters that lives on the edge of gentrification. I keep in touch -- albeit badly -- with all of them today. I miss their company.

So instead of this neighborhood and my porch, I will have an eighth story view of downtown and a balcony. The neighborhood is still transitional, but not like before. The neighborhood is still friendly, but with a more urban feel. I'm looking forward to the drum circle in the park nearby and the exquisitely enjoyable pastries from Cake Love, but it's not the same.

I just hope the housing market crashes so maybe I can someday buy in, or at least not be driven out. Of course, my old neighbors said the same thing: don't wait to buy, because the market has only gone up.

skies of blue and clouds of white

2006-07-14T20:05:00.000-04:00

It's 1:00 and seven hundred students are staggering back to their chairs, sated with fast food. The tables groan with conversation, and a few gunners accompany the pmbr teacher to the front of the room, dogging his steps and begging for advice.

My roommate touches my elbow for attention.

"Marco caught the news about what's going on in Israel. Looks like full scale war soon."

My grimmace deepens. I think about all the people I know there -- a country the size of New Jersey enveloped by a hostile population of 180 million. "I don't see how this could have played out any differently. The abductions couldn't help but draw this kind of response."

"Yeah, that looks like the point. It's just a way to distract from everything else that's going on." He has family there and understands the Israeli mentality. 60 years of self-defence preceeded by 2000 years of escaping genocide do sharpen a sense of self-preservation.

As the teacher resumes his lecture and the somnolent students settle into their seats, I wonder about those who gain from this kind of chaos. A college professor of mine often quoted Abba Eban as saying "The Arabs never miss an opportunity to miss an opportunity." Although the Egyptians had worked out a deal with the Palestinians to release the captured Israeli soldier, Syria and Iran, working through Hamas, pressured the hostage-takers to do just the opposite. It was the Iranian backed Hizbollah that also captured soldiers #2 and #3 on the Lebanese border.

Later this afternoon, I caught on tv the Israeli Ambassador to the UN wagging his finger at the Lebanese, saying Lebanon would welcome Israel's expulsion of Hizbollah just as much as the Israelis would. Considering how Hizbollah has carved out much of Lebanon for their own mini-terrorist state from which they launch rockets and cross-border attacks, and the close links between Hizbollah and their backers in Iran and Syria (Lebanon's former occupier), this could rapidly evolve into a much bigger conflict.

The most likely outcome, however, is the Iranians will use this opportunity to enhance their leadership in the middle east while biding their time to perfect their atomic weapons. Certainly enough, the slow international movement to weaken the Islamic radical's hands in Gaza and strengthen support around the more moderate elements has been dramatically halted. That probably was the point of capturing the Israeli soldier in the first place.

What a wonderful world.

Rejection

2006-07-13T20:31:00.000-04:00

Here's a primer on what not to do when rejected from a firm: a brilliant follow-up letter. A better plan would be to wait a handful of years, work for the government, and indict the firm for kickbacks.

Or perhaps best of all-- move on. Think of the rejection as the third unreturned phone call to a girl. Even if you get through, you're not going to find out anything you want to know. And it's probably them. Really.

Just don't be this guy.

Thank you for tuning in to unsolicited advice Thursdays.

heroes

2006-07-13T19:05:00.000-04:00

Not much today -- I'm wiped out from 8 hours of review of the first 100 pmbr practice questions.

So instead I refer you to an amazing story on NPR's This American Life about a woman who at age 12 set out to make herself a superhero, succeeded, and discovered superpowers alone are no match for Clark Kent. (Text) (Audio -- minute 16). Here's to you, Zora Colakovic, and everyone checking off their to-do lists.

199 bottles of beer on the wall

2006-07-12T20:09:00.000-04:00

In one of the crueller jokes the study of law can inflict on its acolytes, today reminded law students throughout the land that three years of school are no match for 200 weaselly-worded multiple choice questions. And no one can write more weaselly questions than lawyers.

All across America, your future high-priced dobermans cowered in a drab hotel conference rooms perched over narrow tables with metal decanters of water at the ready while spasmatically grasping to remember enough arcane mumbo jumbo to get at least 100 questions correct.

Like res ispa and ipso facto, 100 is magic-- it signifies passage of the multi-state portion of the exam, passage into the profession, and freedom from the pergatory that is the often dreadful study of law. Before you ask: in every area people specialize. Podiatrists do not perform brain surgery. Pilots do not drive semis. And only a fool would hire a real estate attorney for a criminal criminal matter. Some areas are just more naturally appealing than others. But law students taking the bar must know everything, regardless of interest, and without ever setting a foot in a courtroom or learning one practical scintilla of law.

Having now graded the results on my test, I've established that I should be able to make the cut-off--assuming that too many more neurons don't implode. If, however, their attrition rate surprasses my ability to retain facts, I will not be eligible for the swimsuit portion of the test: the essay examination. In essays, the applicant gets to show off his or her knowledge of the law in a 45 minute window, without access to books, notes, or sharpened implements.

Answering any legal question without research is like driving with Ray Charles. This isn't a test of legal skills. It's a about luck and screaming loudly enough. It also turns rather bright, somewhat friendly people into those you would cross the street to avoid. But that's a different story.

To all those staring bleary-eyed into PMBR books -- good luck.

sex and the seinfeld

2006-07-11T23:45:00.000-04:00

Have you ever noticed how Jerry Seinfeld and Carrie from Sex and the City are essentially the same person? They both . . .

Are insanely preoccupied with themselves and minutia (what's the deal with manolo blanc?)
Reject mates with at most one minor character flaw (hellllooooooooo!!!!)
Give nicknames to other people without their knowledge (Mr. Big)
Have a close circle of three increasingly eccentric friends (Kramer, meet Samatha)
Are never really at work
Eat at the same restaurant every day

The only difference is one is the greatest icon of late 20th century culture, the other constitutes an aspirational goal for the neurotic neophyte.

grey colored glasses

2006-07-11T13:43:00.000-04:00

While taking a break, I read this opening sentence to a rather insightful blog entry: "Give me a woman who doesn’t have a story to tell about some guy and his unwanted public advances and I’ll give you a dollar."

Bells started going off. Flashes before my eyes. I know this! Contracts -- It's a request for services, not goods, so the common law (not UCC) applies. This is a request for performance, so it's a unilateral contract. Offer: find a woman lacking stories about unwanted public advances. Acceptance: the presentation of said woman. Consideration: $1. It's a contract. It's a contract!! I have to warn her-- people will want money! They'll be banging down the door!!

I took a few quick breaths. Pondered the half-eaten apple quietly browning on my desk. Surely I'm missing something. It's probably impossible to find a woman who hasn't suffered an unwanted public advance-- the staring; the catcalls; the grope. And, perhaps, I'm taking this all to literally. This isn't an invitation to enter an agreement; it's an opportunity to express annoyance. She's voicing frusteration with society. This is about freedom of speech and of the press. Blogs are press. First Amendment! Is there goverment action? Prior restraint?? Strict scrutiny!!

I think I need to go for a walk.

14 days

2006-07-11T02:08:00.000-04:00

It's 2:05am. 14 days remain until the Georgia Bar exam; 64 days until I start a new job in a new city; 390 minutes until I need to wake up and start studying. I can barely keep my eyes from crossing, but even the tedium of BarBri's "advanced criminal law questions" cannot smother me into sleep. My resting pulse of 48 bpm is palpably insistent and pressing against my ribs.

Express intent to murder; intent to cause serious bodily harm; reckless indifference to a serious risk of injury; felony -- these are the four types of common law murder. An adequate provocation, like catching your wife in bed with another man, reduces murder to voluntary murder. Why do I need to memorize all this when it can be found in a book on my shelf in an office if I ever need it? What man, finding his spouse in flagrante delicto, would ponder what a reasonable man would do?

I just returned from a trip to the green mountains of Vermont. While everyone swam and worked and walked I poured over real property, constitutional law, evidence. 2 hours in the morning, 5 in the afternoon, hanging out at night, watching the flickering of the tv. In the room, the cousins go, talking of Michaelangelo. At night, the moon shone like an uncovered lamp in front of a dusty curtain, mocking and winking.

The lunar calendar has 28 days. I'm a half a revolution away. The tide is turning.

The specific intent crimes are: inchoate crimes, murder, assault (when apprehension), crimes against property. 375 minutes left.

The moon is Captain Hook's lantern swinging in the distance. I can hear the drumming of metal on cylinder. Tick. Tock.