My group led class discussion on Thursday and it went well. People have a lot to say about paternalism. Unlike me.

On Friday, Miss D paid a visit to Crimson City to see her 10-year-old cousin-in-law play the violin in concert at the New England Conservatory. I was fortunate enough to accompany her, and unfortunate enough to be suffering from a violent head cold at the time. Miss D stayed with me at the dorm, which amused her, I think. We had crepes on Saturday morning before she left for the wilds of NYC again. Good times.

Pushed to the edge of sanity by Bomberman, I moved rooms on Saturday, but was woken up at 4 am by a loud boy in the hall, talking with his friend in the common room. Loud, loud, loud. I asked a hallmate why some people were so loud, and she theorized that people from the Midwest are loud because there's a lot of space in the Midwest. That you have to shout across to be heard, I guess.

In any case, this room is much, much quieter, and I am mentally kicking myself for not having moved earlier.

5 am. Been up since 2:45 am. Went to sleep at 12 am.

Okay, rewind. Play in sequence.

12 am - went to bed relatively early because I'm coming down with a head cold. I foolishly went out to a firm function (where they dine you and ply you with liquor and give you $6 Starbucks coupons in the hopes that you'll apply to that firm next year) because hallmates were going, and I actually had a good time, mostly because I don't really give two flying somersaults about looking good in front of recruiters, but I should have stayed in bed. However, I did not. Hence, foolishness. But also free wine, dinner, and dessert. And the chance to ask a telecomm lawyer if he felt like he was doing good for the world through his job. Heh.

2:45 am - woke up because group of 10 people, coming in drunk from some function were playing Bomberman. To say I hate Bomberman is to say that the Artic is a wee bit chilly. To say that I loathe Bomberman is to say that the Pope is a little under the weather these days. To say that I would l like nothing more than to douse the Nintendo system with gasoline, light it on fire and dance around its burning carcass singing unintelligible songs of wild glee is to say -- well, it's to say exactly that.

And after all that hyperbole, I'm forced to say in all honestly that I don't hate Bomberman itself, I hate the way people scream, pound their fists, jump around, laugh exceedingly loudly and exclaim while playing/losing/winning Bomberman. And that's when they do it during the day! At 2:45 am on Thursday night -- inexcusable. I asked people to quiet down, but Bomberman was not appeased and his supplicants had to make more noise. I tried going back to sleep and just could not. Damn Sudafed. My hallmate told me it would calm down my symptoms but that it was like speed. Indeed.

5 am - After trying and failing to fall back asleep, I turned on the computer, read things here and there, looked up (finally) what "hapa" really means (originally used in hawaii to refer to a Hawaiian with some Caucasian blood, now used to describe anyone who is part Asian and part other race - "half asian pacific american," see?), played some computer games, read my TA's comments on my worse-than-crap paper I turned in late on Monday, and generally felt like I was crawling out of my skin.

I have way too much to do to be operating on 2 hours and 45 minutes of sleep. Unbeknownst to me (maybe because I don't go to crim anymore), we were assigned a midterm (ungraded) that's due on the same day the final draft of my elective paper is due. Shoot me now. Please. I found out about it two days ago when my moot court partner emailed me and asked if I "had a partner for the crim assignment yet" and would I like to do it together. My response: "Sure! Um, what crim assignment?"

I suppose I should go to class.

But hey, I've never missed Torts!

And in other news, snow fell today. Which was pretty, except when you're walking back from a firm function hopped up on Sudafed and wine and it's as cold as heck.

Oh, it's February all right. The cold, dark February of the soul.

Must. Sleep. Aaaaggggrrrhphgh.

Pretty, pretty snow falling today. I wore my new waterproof hiking boots out today -- all the way to the library! Yes, all of 50 yards or so. I've been sitting here since 10 am, trying to complete an 8-10 page paper due in 9 -- oops, now 8 -- minutes. I'm on page 5. I had four pages when I sat down this morning. I'm screwed.

It's on paternalism angst in the lawyering profession, and oh my, what angst. Angst, in fact, is all that my elective (Responsibilities of Public Lawyers) is about. Angst over what a public lawyer is. Angst about the adversarial system. Angst about whether lawyers ought to be graced with the label of "professionals" like doctors and architects. Angst about time constraints and gender discrimination and racial discrimination and how the profession (or rather, "profession") doesn't inspire youngsters to work for the public's interest anymore. Remember how I said that law school is like high school? I wasn't kidding.

This Thursday, I, with three other students, have to lead a class discussion on paternalism in the law. Paternalism is, roughly, when someone decides something for you. It's a tricky subject. It's certainly relevant to lawyer-client relationships. I've talked about it in a mediation context. And I have absolutely nothing to say on the matter.

I did think my elective was interesting and conducted in a anti-law-school manner (student-taught, for one thing), but I've begun to think it as boring, if in a different way, as my other classes. (Speaking of which -- ha! What other classes? I haven't been to my criminal law class since Feb. 9) Talk, talk, talk, talk, talk. Oh, it's so HARD to deal with these theoretical ailments of lawyering! Maybe we shouldn't have such an adversarial legal system! Maybe we don't deserve to be called professionals! Maybe we should make decisions for clients! No, maybe we shouldn't! Maybe I should go shoot myself right now!

All right, all right, I'll admit that the class brings up valid concerns about being a lawyer. I admit it, okay? But here's the problem: I just don't care. I don't care about any of this stuff. My attitude is that, okay, we've got these concerns, they're interesting in a navelgazing sort of way, let's spend a minute or 10 talking about them and move out and actually do something.

I think it's fairly clear that I hate theory.

I think it's also fairly clear that I hate law school.

Perhaps this law school in particular. As my RA said last term, it's fine to know the black-letter law (what's on the books) at other schools, but at Crimson, you need to know the policy behind the law. Presumably because Crimson is grooming the future policy-makers of the world. Which is fine and good, and policy-makers should spend some time thinking about the theory, but lord oh lord, that's not me.

Final thought: I know a good book when I read it. I know a good meal when I eat it. I know a good beer when I drink it. I know a good song when I hear it. I know a good outfit when I wear it. I know a good hair day when I see it. I know that feeling, that "oh!" recognition, that "hey. niiiice." feeling when something fits. So where is it? And how long am I going to look for it before I realize it's not here?

My paper is now 21 minutes overdue. Huh.

THEY'RE TRACKING MY BOWEL MOVEMENTS!

- February 14, 2005, Crimson City. Yes, it sounds like a headline from the Weekly World News, but it's true right here at Crimson College law school.

We've had a peeping problem, you see. No, not the sounds made by the unholy combination of fluff, sugar, and food dye commonly known as Easter Peeps, but the alarming and faintly pitiable problem of a Peeping Tom in the law school dorms.

It started in the first month of school, when a female student reported a male looking over the shower door.

The school response: locks on the women's bathroom doors.

The student response: having to remember a code for the bathroom was a pain at first, but students got used to it. Rumors swirled around that the peeper was the foreign assistant of a famous, controversial criminal law professor. Then it stopped being a topic of conversation, because everyone had too much work to do.

The residents of Maroon Hall had been considering whether to turn the women's bathroom on the coed floor into a coed bathroom, but as the floor RA reportedly said in her pert yet curiously flat Texan accent, "Well, I think putting locks on the girl's bathrooms is a clear mandate from the school, so we're not going coed."

But a few weeks later, the Peeping Tom struck again.

The school response: change the combination.

Student response: gripe about the annoyance of having to remember a new code. They got over it fast enough, though some reported that taking a shower in a deserted bathroom still felt slightly creepy.

All was quiet on the Peeper front for several weeks. And then, just before reading period for 1Ls, he struck again.

This time, student response was more exasperated than anything. Really, would they just go ahead and catch the creep? The school changed the code for the locks yet AGAIN, and there was a rumor that the women would receive a bathroom key.

No keys were issued, and, as per SOP, female students gave the new code freely to male students within minutes of receiving it from the dean's office.

Now, Crimson is about to put more drastic measures in place. Students living in the dorms received an email today:
-----------
To residents of Maroon Hall 1:

On Wednesday February 16, the keyshop will be installing swipe card locks on all the women's bathrooms in the Crimson Dorm complex.  This will help resolve security issues, allow female guests of male residents access to women's rooms, AS WELL AS BEING ABLE TO TRACK WHO ENTERED THE BATHROOMS [our caps] should a problem occur in the future.

Your student ID will open the women's bathroom on Maroon Hall 1.

Please be aware that you are responsible for the use of your student ID and for any guest who uses your student ID card to enter the bathroom(s). 

There is a hole punch for ID's available in Scarlet Hall 4 (on the filing cabinet next to the counter) should you want to attach you [sic] student ID to a lanyard or keyring.
-------------
What could have prompted Crimson College law school to such measures? There have been no further reports of peeping, so we can only assume one thing: Crimson wants to track the bathing and bowel movements of its female students. (And female guests of male students as well, we guess.)

Why should Crimson want to do such a thing? The school has been unable to quash persisent rumors that it is running a secret experiment on women in traditionally male-dominated environments, to test the theory of the College's president that while innate differences between men and women might be one reason fewer women succeed in science and math careers, such differences don't really come into play when it comes to the study of mushy social sciences like the law.

"Well, when you're doing well and feeling good about school, you just go to the bathroom more regularly, I guess," conjectured one student.

"I think they totally should have given us lanyards for free," volunteered another student standing nearby.

One radical group on campus is planning a protest -- but not for what you'd think. "We're protesting the lack of locks on the MEN'S bathrooms," the president of M.P.A.M.B.T.D.M.M.D.G.P.O.T. ("Most Peepers Are Men But That Doesn't Mean Men Don't Get Peeped On Too") said meaningfully. Asked what he meant, the student sighed exaggeratedly and said, "What about the women peepers who violate the sanctity of men's bathrooms? We want the same protections as women. We feel it's deeply discriminatory to have locks for women's bathrooms but none for men's bathrooms. We want locks too!" He added as an afterthought, "And none of that low-tech code stuff, either. We want to be monitored like the women are monitored! Yeah, baby!"

Students confirm that female students living on a floor with a men's bathroom often do use that bathroom instead of going through two locked doors to use the women's bathroom in the next hall. Students also confirmed that male students living on a floor with a women's bathroom do at least occasionally use that bathroom instead of going through two locked doors to use the men's bathroom.

Asked for comment, one female student sighed, "The problem is that all law students are desperate, socially awkward people. I don't blame the peeper, really. He probably sits alone in his room trying to understand torts and civ pro like the rest of us, and needs some kind of release from the stress. Maybe he's allergic to alcohol or doesn't like watching TV or playing video games, which is how the rest of us like to blow off steam. I don't think he's justified in peeping, but he's clearly more sick than criminal."

Asked by this reporter what field of law she was headed into, the student replied defensively, "Defense attorney. Why?"

Assured by this reporter that defense attorneys were noble and really awesome as well as hot enough so as to sizzle, the student continued thoughtfully, "I don't really mind if someone's tracking my bowel movements, since I don't have any political ambitions and I can't foresee any possible negative outcomes from someone knowing how many times a day I pee anyway." Asked what did bother her about the situation, if anything, she paused and replied, "Well, I do think we should have gotten free lanyards."

Crimson City got a light dusting of snow last night, which didn't feel so light when me and Gengirl were walking around Boston last night on our way to the Crimson Graduate Student Valentine's Matchmaking party. Yes, that's right. Matchmaker, matchmaker, make me a match! With a nice non-law grad student at Crimson, please, so I know that he's reasonably intelligent and doesn't, like, drool and stuff. But oh, things sometimes don't go the way you plan, youngsters! For the club:
1. was a club - ew
2. shared the space with Chippendales
3. wasn't open at 9, which is when the party was supposed to start
4. charged a $15 cover, on top of which the Grad Student Council charged $5 for the matching (ouch!)
5. had waitresses -- dressed in miniskirts and white go-go boots -- going around with test tube shots
6. was too big for the 80 or so people there at 10:30 pm
7. gave me a flashback to the days when I too would go to clubs in my cute little fancy tank top and tight jeans and tiny purselet and stand around talking to my friends trying desperately to look cool
8. was so not my scene anymore.

Gengirl and I arrived at the place at 9 pm (when the party was supposed to start, remember), and was told that it would open "at 9 or 10," so we went for dessert, came back at 10 pm, paid our ridiculous cover, got our list of matches, stood around speechless for 15 minutes until I said, "You know, I think I would pay $20 to leave this place now," and left.

All right. I concede that it's possible I might have had a better time if we'd gone with a group of people, or if I hadn't still been nursing the rage from yesterday, or if the weather hadn't been so crap, or if there had been no cover. But I was glad to get home and go to bed early, thanks.

Whatever.

So in summer job news, I've been getting knocked down -- this week I heard from the place in Belfast and the place in South Africa, and both emails included that key word -- "unfortunately." So the last remaining international place is Cambodia, which, frankly, is the only place I really have any experience or contact with. I think the Irish and South African places could tell that I was just after a nice place to live in the summer. On the other hand, I'm funded for the summer by Crimson, so -- free labor? Hello? What more do you want? Like, actual interest in your country and issue? Whatever.

I'm also still waiting on a couple places Stateside - a death penalty place in New Orleans, an immigrants' rights project in Oakland, and a legal services organization in Anchorage. To them all I also say -- whatever.

And in overall law school news, yesterday I talked to someone in my section whom I've admired from afar for his hilarious answers in class (to wit -- Professor: "What if the complaint said something like, 'I'm suing you for wearing a blue shirt that made me go blind." Student: [Pause] "Well," said slowly and thoughtfully, "that's an interesting theory of causation."). Was shocked to hear that most of our class did not like our property course last term, which was by far my favorite class and was, I thought, far and away the best taught and most useful.

I'd heard someone in our class complain about the prof, but thought that she was an anomaly. Apparently not. "It just makes me think that their brains work a certain way that mine doesn't," he said. I hear ya.

Lotta rage today.

I realize I'm going to sound like some '50s cartoon version of a father coming home from work, but sweet jesus, I just want some peace and quiet when I come home. Please! PLEASE! No ching! ching! of a video game in the common room right outside my dorm door. No yelling from the boys playing the video game when they lose. Or win. Or whatever. No talk of who the best retriever/quarterback/running back/goalie/pitcher/all-around best player of whatever freakin' sport -- which MUST be conducted in heated, raised voices. No coming back to 25 tall people sitting around watching a basketball game eating pizza and drinking beer. No. NO. NO!!! Shut up, shut it down, and go to your rooms. NOW.

Aargh.

10 pm on a Wednesday night is not an unreasonable time to be watching a game on TV with 20 others -- I know this. Which is why I got back from the gym (small victory -- yay!), took a shower, and headed right back out again to the library, which I know will be quiet. I'd rather be lying in bed finishing torts. I resent having to come to the library for peace and quiet. I am tired of having my room invaded by the sound of ANYone talking or watching TV or playing video games. I just want it to be quiet! Is that so much to ask?

I hate dorm life. I hate having the common room outside my door. I am going to move.

Second haterific topic: made the stupid, STUpid mistake of getting into a grades conversation with someone. Just an innocuous if whiny: "Gee, what does it take to get a High Pass in legal writing, anyway?" To which my conversation partner -- so tactful! so sympathetic! -- replied, "Oh, I know lots of people who got High Passes." And then ensued a downward spiraling conversation about the uselessness of doing any work in legal writing class that went something like this:

"I feel like I worked pretty hard on that last memo, and I did just the same as people who never went to class and barely did work."

"Yeah, well, that's where you're going to get screwed, because I didn't do any work and I got a Pass too."

"But I think this is the most important class -- this is something we're really going to use as lawyers."

"Yeah, but my sister, who's been a paralegal for a long time, says that partners want different things anyway, so what they teach you here isn't going to be any use anyway."

"But they're supposed to teach you legal reasoning and that cuts across the board. I just don't understand why they don't incentivize this class more -- why should I work hard at this?"

"I don't know why you're getting so worked up about this -- no firm is ever going to care about what you got in legal writing."

And so forth.

First of all, I hate it when people pretend they don't do work when they do. What's the freakin' point? Second, getting into a firm isn't the only goal here. Third (and here's where I start cooling off and remembering what I'm really upset about), I find law school topics boring. I find law school classes boring. I find the discussions in class soporific. And useless! So I cast about, looking for a reason, any reason, why I should be here, and I think, "Aha! Well, this is a trade school, in the broadest sense, so I'll at least learn a skill here." I am learning legal analysis, yes, and some legal writing, but when the things that you want to get out of your education are marginalized by the school and your peers, well, that's sad-making.

And that's where I am. Sad that my priorities and approach are so out of whack with the average law student. This was a stupid venture, a cop-out decision, and I'm paying for it. There's nothing I can grab on to during the annoying parts of this process, nothing I can point to and say, "Hey. That's why I'm here. I want to save the world/make money/have prestige/merge companies/organize communities/become President." Nothing that makes me want to stick it out -- except my own dumb pride and stubbornness.

Who are these people who are impassioned by what they can achieve through law? Not me. Who are these people who appear to genuinely enjoy 10-minute back-and-forths with the professor on what "intent" means? Not me. Who are these people who treat law school as a stopping point on the way to greatness or money? Pas moi, cherie. Who are these people who accept calmly a place that treats strategy and gaming the system as preferred ways to deal with life? Not me.

Yesterday in legal writing (you know, the class that actually teaches you a skill but isn't graded), the instructor mentioned the historical context of the Supreme Court opinion we were looking at as part of an exercise, and I suddenly remembered what it felt like to be interested in something said in class. We were looking at a civil rights decision, and the instructor told us about the decision made by black leaders in the south to recruit students for the sit-ins and marches, after Birmingham increased bail for arrested marchers such that working men and women would have to sit in jail for a few days, missing work, to raise the money. (Bad, awful grammar -- sorry.) Anyway, my ears perked up and I was suddenly actually listening, interested, instead of half-following along. Remember, hk? Remember when you used to like school?

I remember. It makes me want to put my head down on this desk and close my eyes in resignation.

Okay, so this is how the grades went: an A- for civil procedure, a B+ for property, and no grade yet from contracts, because my professor couldn't care less about his duties to the 1L class. I was very, VERY surprised about the civ pro grade, because you know I had a very hard time with it -- didn't understand most classes. I read a hornbook (a study guide) and spent tons of time studying that topic, and did old exams, and the test was significantly easier than past exams, and I really just don't know how I pulled that off.

The property grade is more in line with what I expected - I liked the class, understood the material, worked hard on the exam, which was fair and challenging. I would have liked higher, but hey, it's above average.

I fully expect either a B- or a C on my contracts exam, and I will definitely let you know as soon as I know. Probably in March. God, I hope I don't get lower than that.

So someone asked me if my grades made me feel any better about law school, and I have to say -- no. It just shows again how random the grading is, how poorly taught the classes are, how it's all about gaming the system, and not about actually learning anything. From my own grades, I see that studying the hornbook is a more reliable way to learn the precepts from a class than going to class. I also see that even if you work hard on understanding the cases, not gauging the time just right for an exam will just screw you up. And I learned that certain professors don't really give a shit about teaching. All lovely lessons to have learned.

Still very tired from the weekend. DC was warm and lovely and full of people I miss. And a lifestyle I miss. The working world ain't so bad. No homework -- AND disposable income! It's possible that if I were remotely interested in what I am learning, the working lifestyle would not look so attractive. But things being as they are...

I have promised the Ringleted One and countless others that I will get a cell phone, and I will. Eventually.

I did not pass the oral assessment for the Foreign Service. No big whoop, though.

More later, when I don't have two fellowships to apply for by tomorrow, which is why I came directly from the airport to the law library. Oh, and also because there's a Superbowl party outside my room (literally -- my door opens into the common area) and I don't feel like having 25 people look at me as I return to the room I call home.

Wow, it's February already. Second week of class has started.

Last week I had a sad-funny moment when I was taking calls for the legal services student organization I'm a part of. I was talking to a guy who'd been convicted of assault and battery and wanted to appeal. Says he: "I've never assaulted anyone before then. Never." Pause. "Oh, wait. There was that one time. But that was different."

It's no wonder that there are so many lawyers-turned-writers. This stuff is too good to make up.

Had an unusually social weekend -- potluck dinner on Friday night with clique members (two Oxfordians, one Mormon, one smart-mouthed youngster) and various classmates that the clique brought together. Who knew that people in our section were so talented in the kitchen? The guy who served 5 years in the army and was in Iraq at the beginning of the war made an amazing lemon-infused chicken stuffed with artichoke hearts. Two people made mac and cheese together (and earnestly said they thought we'd like it, since "we put our toes in it." Southern expression?). The girl Oxfordian made beef and snow peas. The former tech guy made a maple syrup pie. I made a winter soup. Lawyers who cook! Fantastic. And yum.

On Saturday I got friends in the hall to come with me to the Neener's party, which was low-key and chock-full of teeny chocolate muffins. (Okay, I have officially broken down and called the people I hang out with in the hall friends. I've committed to the idea of having friends here.)

And Sunday night I had dinner with a couple who are friends with One-Armed Maggie -- public interest devotees and smart, interesting, interested folks equally at ease talking about the difficulty of finding a good hairdresser for Asian hair and what role public interest lawyers should play in society (more effective as litigators or community organizers?). I didn't understand a lot of it, but it sure gave me a jump on my elective ("Professional responsibilities of public lawyers"), which they'd both taken at Crimson.

Sorry this has been a list-y sort of entry, but late it is and early I must rise to read Crim. Ah, crim. Shameful how bored and resentful I already am in class.