Case of the Mondays

I need to write shorter blogs. Besides the fact that longer blogs are obviously more time consuming and take away from other ways to unwind, I've recently been told that people aren't reading all of it. So from now on, I'll be, for lack of a better word, brief.

It was my birthday on Friday, which meant I spent the entire weekend in a state of mind that wasn't exactly conducive to professionalism. And because of my actions, I'm now forced to pay for it this upcoming week. I've got a significant writing assignment due Tuesday which has been confusing, to say the least. I'm normally on top of that sort of thing, but I've been perplexed by the lack of direction given to me and my fellow colleagues.

(Doesn't 'colleagues' sound so much better than 'classmates?' I think so.)

I'll spend tommorow and most of Tuesday morning hammering out the best work I can, but I'm positive that it won't be nearly as polished as the peice I'll be able to write once I actually learn what I'm supposed to do. While I asusme that's standard operating procedure, I wonder if I'm going to feel some artificially inflated sense of 'improvement' after I compare the critiques of this first submission with the eventual second. I guess I'll have to wait and see.

Sleeping in > Civ Pro

I've got a brutal schedule. Brutal for me, anyways. Twice a week I'm forced to drag my exhausted carcass into class at 8 AM. The other days aren't as bad, I guess, but they're still rough on a guy who has spent the last year waking up at his own leisure. To make matters worse, the 8 AM class is Civil Procedure, and it's only taken me a few weeks to realize that it's my least favorite subject. Combined with the fact that my section is taught by a man who I've heard classmates refer to as a "Nazi" and "The Anti-Christ," I knew it was only a matter of time before I'd lose the energy to get myself out of bed and succumb to the warmth of snuggly* sheets.

*Yeah, I said snuggly. Why? Because they are.

That day came a week ago, Thursday. I woke up a bit late, but with more than enough time to eat, shower, and walk the five blocks needed to reach room 2B of California Western's main building. But no. I'd briefed the cases the night before, felt confident about my understanding of them, and chose sleep over ridicule.

For those who haven't had Stiglitz, let me explain. Most of my other teachers are more of the nurturing mother archetype; they'll ask guiding questions, in a soft, friendly tone, and laud you for what you gleaned out of the case. Stiglitz, on the other hand, is the hard-ass father you'll never be able to please. Nothing is ever good enough. And he'll not only let you know how badly you fucked up, but he'll tell the entire class. Needless to say, he's not a favorite among the students I've spoken with.

To be fair, I actually kind of, maybe, like the guy. He's a bit intimidating, sure. No one wants to have their intelligence picked apart by someone who inspired one half of the grumpy old men who heckle the other characters on 'The Muppets.' But all kidding aside, I think I'll get more out of his class than any other in which I'm currently enrolled.


He does look a bit like Statler (right), for what it's worth.

A few days ago, I was randomly called on to inform the class about Rush v. Maple City Heights, which dealt with a the civil version of double jeopardy. In truth, I didn't feel that confident about the case before class began. And I felt my heart skip a beat when he incorrectly pronounced my name, but god forbid I correct him that it's "Buh-Row-Knee" and not "Buh-Roe-n." I didn't even get through the facts of the case before he acosted me for my use of the phrase "said bicycle." The class seemed to enjoy his bewilderment with my verbage, but I didn't understand (and still don't) why it was so funny. Despite that, I was able to accurately explain the inner workings of the case and felt amazingly proud of myself afterwards. More importantly, I now know that case better than any other case I've studied so far in law school.

Still, that's unlikely to keep me from catching up on much needed sleep. The great feeling I referred to earlier in regards to discussing a case in front of the class still can't compare to those snuggly sheets.

Mens Rea

When I visited California Western in the early part of 2008, I did it with reservation. I had heard that law school had a 'cut-throat' atmosphere; that people were only looking to further their own professional prerogatives and subsequently, weren't looking to make friends. From a logical standpoint, it made sense. It's only natural for people to want to help those close to them, but each 'friend' is also an adversary. Does that mean people will shy away from sharing notes, getting together for study sessions, or being amicable with one another? I feared it might, but each advisor at California Western looked me in the eye and assured me, "it's different here." Only one week in to my first year, I've stopped drinking the Kool-Aid.

I'm not saying I haven't enjoyed the company of several colleagues at California Western. Notice how I used the word colleagues; I can only consider a few to be friends. It's partly my fault, since I can appear standoff-ish at times, especially when I'm wearing dark sunglasses and listening to my iPod. But truth be told, I wonder if the difference lies in my state of mind.

Last Friday, California Western sponsored an event at a local club called 'Stingaree.' While I'm not a fan of the place, I was enticed by the thought of bonding with several other colleagues. Having an open bar didn't hurt either. Unfortunately, I quickly found out that this wasn't really a "meet and greet" environment. I remember a similar situation that occurred during my first few weeks of undergrad at UC Davis. A friend of mine had recently moved into the dorms, and I accompanied him to the complex's highly publicized 'Ice-Cream Social.' When we arrived, the room was quiet and people were looking at their shoes. I remember telling my friend, "They should have called this the Ice-Cream Antisocial."

On the first day, we were subjected to a speech about professionalism. About maturation. Maybe this is a step in the process. I'm fully aware that exams are important. I'm fully aware my grades will likely determine the employment opportunities I'm given in the near future. But I don't think it will affect my happiness as much as the personal relationships I build with people over the course of my life. Or at least I hope not.