Over the river and through the woods...

Overall, I'm a pretty pathetic runner. I'm not fast, I'm prone to knee pain, and I'm mildly asthmatic, which makes running outdoors in the spring a bit of a challenge. My face also turns scarlet whenever I exercise, so I'm not going to be featured in race promo pictures any time soon. And that whole bit about southern girls "glistening"? Yeah, I sweat. It's a lovely package.

My second (and latest) race was back in February 2008, and I didn't embarrass myself--I'd pushed hard since October and taken myself from two-mile runs to a half-marathon, and I did it largely on my own. This, in retrospect, was poor planning; I got to know my aforementioned bad knees, and between the injury after the race and the impending Alabama spring, I stopped running. Eventually, I could squat again without bracing myself, but by that time, I had burned out. The tennis shoes went back in the closet.

I felt guilty about it--I had once entertained visions of marathoning--but with two jobs, freelance work, studying for the LSAT, applying to law school, and then actually going to law school, I pushed the guilt aside. I had no time (nor inclination, really) for the gym; the treadmill was boring, the track was obnoxiously short (and there's no parking at that gym), and outdoor running was impossible when the roads were covered in black ice. I took long walks back in the fall, but those ended as soon as classes began--and when I was doing seven- and nine-mile hikes through Charlottesville, my knees let me know about it.

And then, about a month ago, my sister came home with her Vibrams, and I got a pair as an early birthday gift. Yes, they're freakish, sock-like, and offer no support whatsoever, but the claims appear to be true thus far--I'm not hurting nearly as much as I did. Confident in my new footwear, I signed up for the Race Judicata 5K, reminding myself that I had done a whole lot worse than 3.1 miles. Over the next week, I wore my shoes everywhere, including on urban day walks and, to my poor mother's horror, classes. I ached in odd places and my feet protested, but I could manage the distance on the treadmill--there was nothing to worry about, right?

Cut to this morning, sunny and 45, perfect for a nice run around North Grounds. Part of the course was simple--up through Darden, out toward 250, around the Park, etc.--but the kicker was the long section of the course that followed the Rivanna Trail. Don't get me wrong, I like the occasional walk in the woods, but I'd not been down this section, and I wasn't sure exactly what I was in for. The organizers mentioned rocks and a run through the creek.

For the record, cross-country running is a very different animal from road running. On the plus side, grass and dirt feel great on impact. On the other hand, with road running, you complain about the asphalt and the grade, but off-road, you get into issues like roots and rocks in the path, sudden climbs, drops, and twists, and that little creek you get to ford. That said, my shoes performed admirably--I'm horrible on downhill treks because I tend to freak out at sudden descents, but for once, I could actually find my footing. My knees are just fine, my feet are only muttering, and the shoes are in the washing machine. (I will note, however, that running on large gravel in shoes with absolutely no padding is an...interesting...experience.)

In any case, I finished, I wasn't last, and I'm still a certified member of the 10-Minute Mile Club. It's humbling, realizing that the Charlottesville Marathon was yesterday and that I was struggling with this course (and that the winner today did it in 17 minutes), but then again, I'm out of practice, I'm not a cross-country runner, and I'm highly allergic to oak pollen. Still a better way to spend a morning than, say, outlining...

Fun with Outlining

The good news: I reviewed Con Law today, refreshed my memory as to a number pesky items like the Commerce Clause, and got my outline down to two pages.

The bad news: I have no idea how insane the final is going to be.

The worse news: The outline, situated at the outer limits of printable margins and in 6 pt. Times New Roman, takes up a full two pages. We still have two weeks of class to go, which includes things like partial-birth abortion, Lawrence v. Texas, and more topics in the Wonderful World of Modern Substantive Due Process. In short, the outline will have to be pared down even further, as I'm not sure that my eyes, even post-Lasik, can comfortably read 4 pt. text.

The bright spot: The study outline can be as long as I darn well like, and it now has lovely case charts. So there.

Last Hurrah

Finals begin on my birthday this year. Kind of like 2005, the year I turned 21.

Yeah, no one wanted to go out and play that night, either. (Thanks, awesome people who still came out to Anna Liffey's!)

With two weeks of class to go before the fun of finals is upon us (Again? I thought that was some sort of a sick prank pulled on first-semester 1Ls, kind of like the VMI Ratline...), it was nice to have a bright spot to look forward to today: Justice Scalia came for a lecture and a book signing.

I attended the lecture this afternoon--well, technically, I was in the CCTV room, watching the screen, laughing a bit too hard at the jokes, and playing the "Have We Covered This Case in Con Law?" game. As soon as his remarks were concluded, I grabbed my copy of Making Your Case and joined the stampede toward the auditorium, where those fortunate enough to have been able to sneak out of class and get tickets had seen Scalia in person.

As I was standing in the book-signing line, several thoughts went through my mind:
1) Wow, this line is long.
2) I hope no one notices my FitFlops. At least I'm wearing the nice pants and button-down.
3) Wait, that guy's in shorts. Okay, the shoes are fine.
4) Still glad I didn't wear the Vibrams today.
5) Man, I wish I had read this book before the brief and oral argument.
6) That guy has a wire coming out of his ear.
7) Oh look, another wire guy. And some cops. Yep, the security detail's all here.
8) And the security guys won't make eye contact or smile. Good to know.
9) What, exactly, does one say to Justice Scalia without sounding like an idiot? "You're my favorite" sounds more than a little trite. And creepy.
10) No, "I liked your dissent in Grutter" is also right out.

The line continued to snake toward the table, and the girls behind me and I decided that the second title page was the correct one for signing--as one of them noted, his name was on the page. Made sense.

Finally, my turn arrived. I smiled and said thank you. I slid my book across the table.

He looked up briefly, looked down at the page, sighed, "This page," and turned to the other title page.

I mumbled, "Yes, sir."

He signed it and slid it back across the table, said, "You're welcome," and I darted out of there before I could ask why the abortion cases were so darn convoluted.

And now that the visit is behind us, it's time to move on to more pressing matters, like my Con Law outline. One page, front and back, 8.5x11 or A4. It's going to be epic.

Euro Capitalstravaganza

Earlier in the year, I considered taking a J Term class. One credit in one week sounds intense, but hey, it wasn't as if I had a better option. Then the London option appeared, and suddenly Baseball lost whatever vestiges of appeal it had once held.

(Many, many thanks to a great host with a willingness to not only visit the touristy sites--in the snow, no less--but to do it on foot. For days. Hey, "Pain is weakness leaving the body," right?)

I'd been to London before, but back in 2000, as part of a three-week British Isles tour that consisted of my family, a bus full of senior citizens, and our trooper of a tour guide, who had to, for instance, inform the manager of a hotel in Ireland that Texans don't take kindly to waking in the wee hours to find drunk wedding guests in their bedrooms. Suffice it to say that I saw a lot--and we certainly hit the highlights--but it was quick and largely bus-based, and given that it was in the height of summer, the crowds were immense.

London in January from a local's viewpoint is another creature entirely. Honestly, if you can stand the cold, January appears to be the ideal month to do Europe: no one's around. The holiday rush is over, the festivities have ended, and everyone's gone back to work, so the attractions are open for the taking. To be the only person on the Prime Meridian for a number of photos is extraordinary; to come back and find the staff building a miniature snowman on the line is something else. Snowmen seemed to be the thing in London that day--well, that and reports of the critical grit shortage. We found several scattered around the city, then almost got caught by snowballs that night.

From snowy London, we caught a flight to sunny Rome, where the orange trees were fruiting, the skies were clear, and the local drivers were insane. (The guidebook's suggestion for crossing the street was to step out purposefully, hopefully in the company of a group, preferably one with a nun. Seriously, half the crossings are of the take-your-life-in-your-hands style, and the scooters don't necessarily stop. It takes a bit of getting used to, but it's fun.) After the self-guided night tour (again, the city was empty, so we had no problem with pictures or crowds), we woke before dawn to line up for the Vatican Museums, having been warned that the queue can stretch down the block. Well, we arrived an hour before opening to find no line whatsoever, so after a walk around the Vatican (by which I mean a walk around the outside--it seems the entrance was a block in the other direction), we hit up St. Peter's (gorgeous) and returned to the museums.

There are signs forbidding photography in the Sistine Chapel. The trick is to be sneaky. (See above.)

We did the Colosseum and the Fora, the Trevi Fountain and the Pantheon. We did the Via Appia Antica (well, bits of it). We also did plenty of pizza and gelato. And then it was back to London for a rare sunny day (after a perfectly atmospheric foggy/rainy night), which we spent at the British Museum. Rosetta Stone and mummies, anyone?

So now I'm back in Charlottesville, enriched by photos and passport stamps if somewhat jetlagged. And the first Property assignment has come down.

I'm thinking Reykjavik.

Look out, world

I have done the unthinkable.

I have driven in the snow.

In a MINI.

My under-30 mph handling was awe inspiring, I'm sure.

Speaking as a southerner, I can think of few things more terrifying than knowing how to drive in wintry conditions and finding oneself in the vicinity of a car with, oh, an Alabama tag. Let's face it: that license plate is almost a guarantee that the person behind the wheel has no idea what she's doing, and is praying that this "black ice" she's heard so much about hasn't formed yet.

I made it home in one piece--they've plowed most of the roads around me--and stepped onto my balcony to look at the pretty snow in the pines. Then I noticed that my downstairs neighbor smells rather strongly of marijuana, and that just spoiled the Christmas card effect.

Back to the mines

I love you, Thanksgiving break, but you've become a devilish little minx.

Back in undergrad, Thanksgiving was glorious, eight days off from school if one stuck around for The Game. (And one did. Cue "School on Monday!" chant.) In law school, it's only five days, and we come back to the final three days of classes before a laughably short two-day reading period (Seriously, guys, why bother?) and--gulp--finals.

Suffice it to say I Thanksgiving-ed it up last week--way too much food (Delicious and didn't come straight from a box! Wonders!), way too much shopping (Sometimes, Saks is the best option), and a nice visit with my parents and the Insane Border Collie. (And, lest I forget, BBC America. Hello, digital cable!) Today, however, I'm back at school, sitting in the cafeteria with my laptop and a stack of casebooks a foot high, wondering why it has to be rainy and cold, and why we have to have these silly exams at all. Thanksgiving was just a tease this year, a glorious five-day reprieve from the looming reality of the end of the semester and the exams that will decide our grades. No pressure.

Only seventeen days until Christmas break. Not that I'm counting or anything.

Harvard Sucks

You know, I thought this was going to be the year. I honestly did.

Since 2002, when I first had a reason to take an interest in The Game, Yale has won exactly once: in 2006, when I had to watch via Flash animation from my dorm room in Scotland. Today's setup was much better--actual television, sofa, lack of five-hour time zone difference--but the result was, unfortunately, what I've come to anticipate from the Bulldogs. There's no need to rehash it. Still, mad props to the guy who was playing with his arm in a massive cast--dude, that's dedication.

Two sources of consolation brightened the fourth-quarter pit of despair this afternoon:

1) You could hear the student section chanting "Harvard Sucks!" over the announcers on Versus.

2) Instead of having to stand in the cold/rain/snow and fight my way back to campus, I got to watch from the comfort of my living room, yell at the television, and then go back to my Contracts outline.

On second thought, that last one is still fairly depressing. "School on Monday!" loses its ring when one does, in fact, have school on Monday.

Computer weekend

I was supposed to go to Tyson's Corner with my sister yesterday. We were going to go to the mall--a real mall, not ghetto Fashion Square--and generally have sister bonding time/retail therapy.

That didn't happen.

Granted, we had a nice dinner at Ten (even if you don't like sushi, the crabmeat and rice is very good) and saw the new version of A Christmas Carol, but I was still cheated out of a relaxing weekend by my computer--which, incidentally, I have now dubbed "the Precious," as I find myself getting overly jittery when it's either absent or malfunctioning. Anyway...

I have a PC, the VAIO notebook that went to Scotland with me three years ago. It's been a good machine up until now, and I try to be careful with it--I keep antivirus/anti-malware software, I run security updates, and I don't download files from sketchy sites. I've even been able to remove my own malware in the past, but this has generally been by what I term the "monkeys with typewriters" school of computer repair. (Translation: If I download enough malware removers, find the right items in the registry, and pray a lot, the bad files usually go away.)

Last Tuesday, Microsoft sent down their newest updates, and my computer installed them on Wednesday. On Thursday, I began to notice that my machine was running more slowly than usual--particularly that IE was taking up to 15 seconds to load--and I opened the Task Manager to see what was going on.

Duplicate iexplore.exe entries. That's new...

I went online and started looking up the symptom, which none of my programs had caught as malware, and started seeing warnings of a particularly nasty trojan that could turn your machine into a zombie and was nearly impossible to remove.

Panicking a bit by now, I downloaded a few new malware removers, but they caught virtually nothing. By Thursday night, I had spent nine hours trying to find the problem, and I decided to give up and take the computer to ITC.

Law ITC has a staff of roughly 1.5, but they're nice folks and tried for four hours with my computer, even on a Friday afternoon, for which they deserve major kudos. When I came down to pick it up, they told me that they hadn't been able to find anything, but that the best option might be an upgrade to Windows 7.

Bear in mind that, until then, I'd been an XP girl. I tend not to perform gratuitous OS upgrades, so despite Windows' shiny new campaign, I hadn't seriously been considering making the switch. But then again, my notes were on that computer, and given that I couldn't go online with the system potentially compromised, and finals are coming up... Let's say that "Aggghhh" summed up my mental state, but ITC said that the main campus bookstore (which is huge, by the way) had copies of 7 available for $10, and that it was an easy installation. "Just back up your data and format the hard drive," they told me, and I ran off to buy a disc.

Putting aside my fears of royally screwing up my machine, I spent all Friday evening backing up my data, then making backups of the important backups. I researched 7 installation, wondering what was going to happen to all my drivers. Microsoft basically gave me the go-ahead--apparently, I may have some graphics issues with the Aero option--but I held off until Saturday morning, when, after reassurance from both Robert and the Geek Squad, I crossed my fingers and began the installation.

The first time through, I opted for something milder than a full formatting, and the IE duplication was still there when I got 7 running. Kicking myself, I ran the installation a second time and formatted, and the duplication was still there. Moreover, my computer was missing drivers for silly little things like, oh, the sound card.

Back to Best Buy and the Geek Squad, where the guy behind the counter checked my wired connection, told me where to get drivers, and ran another malware check, after which he told me that the newest Microsoft update may have been to make IE split its processes, thus helping the browser to recover in case something happens.

In other words, there was probably no trojan to begin with.

Somewhat relieved, I headed back to school to borrow a cable and spent all Saturday afternoon in the computer lab, downloading drivers and cursing Sony for not supporting my model past Vista. (Also, Sony doesn't support its keyboards, so now I'm trying to find a way to make my function buttons work again.) I finally got Office up and running before dinner last night, then came home and worked with iTunes, which, after three installations, still froze on launch.

As of now, the main programs are working, iTunes likes me again, and FriendlyWare, which I rescued from my parents' 386 ten years ago, has been reinstalled. I'm turning this thing off now.

One weekend down the drain, but it's not all for naught--Windows 7 is just so shiny. Or something like that.

Another open letter

Dear unknown woman in the library ladies' room,

The restroom is for a purpose. We all know what that is.

I realize there's a sink in the restroom, but that does not mean that the restroom is your private food preparation area. Let me make this plain: the restroom is not for the peeling and consumption of citrus fruits.

Seriously, honey, the break room--you know, that place with the snack machines and coffee makers--was on the other side of the partition, five feet away. So why the heck did you choose to use a public restroom as your kitchen away from home?!?

Just curious.

A Halloween Scene

[Knocking at door]

Me: [Sits up, looks at Ghost Hunters marathon, wonders if Robert's come by. Realizes it's Halloween, and knocking can mean only one thing.] Coming! [Makes sure pajama top is decent and scrambles for door.]

Mini-ninja: Trick or treat!

Me: One second! [Closes door, removes legs from spider dip bowl, thanks God for candy left by complex manager yesterday. Finds that mini-ninja has kept door propped open and his brother is knocking next door.] Here you go! Take whichever you like.

Mom: [from the foot of the stairs] We've got one down here in a stroller, too! That's why there are three bags!

Me: No worries! So, you're a ninja?

Mini-ninja: Yeah.

Mom: Say "yes, ma'am!"

Me: [Dies a little inside]


After the visit from the mini-ninja and his brother, the ghoul, I'm down to two Tootsie Rolls and the candy left over from Jen's party last night, which, unfortunately, is all open and/or tainted with caramel. We ate all the Nerds, which were the only boxed item. So now, in case little neighbors come calling, here are the options:

1) The half-dozen bags I just assembled with two Twizzlers and a handful of candy corn each, which their moms will promptly throw away. But hey, it's the thought that counts, right? Right?

2) Granola bars, which Jen has put on par with Charlie Brown's bag of rocks.

3) An intact bag of candy corn.

4) An intact bag of Harris Teeter marshmallows.

5) Beer. But I'm checking IDs first.

Fun with Westlaw and Lexis

As of Thursday, I'd successfully redeemed points from both Westlaw and Lexis for DVDs. This was quite exciting, as I seldom get anything in the mail except the former tenant's Self subscription, which is almost certainly the antithesis of legal reading.

The thing is, despite all the bells and whistles each service brags about, they're very similar. I tend to go with Westlaw because all the graphics are blue, which, aesthetically speaking, trumps Lexis's red logos, and because I prefer the layout. Other than that, they do roughly the same thing, and both cost law firms an arm and a leg.

At this point, however, the services are still wooing us, though I'm not sure why. One summer intern's loyalty to Lexis over Westlaw probably isn't going to change the firm's mind about which service to use. Still, I'm not one to turn away legal research freebies.

Having redeemed points, though, I did have one question: whose points are worth more? Using my admittedly small sample and Amazon.com, here's the breakdown:

WESTLAW
DVD 1: 1,800 points, $24.95, or $0.013861 per point.
DVD 2: 600 points, $14.98, or $0.024967 per point.
Average Point Value: $0.0166375

LEXIS
DVD 1: 3,457 points, $79.98, or $0.0231357 per point

So let's get this straight, Westlaw: your points are worth less, and they're harder to get? I like you, and I realize you're the industry leader and all, but it looks like Lexis is trying harder. Plus, Lexis gives us snacks. Time to step up your game, perhaps?

New hobby

According to the date stamp, I've not touched this blog in nearly a month. Best-laid plans and all that, I suppose, but hey, it's been a busy (and quite good) few weeks. So, well...Happy Halloween, yo.

Preface: Back in grad school, I decided to try this strange "knitting" thing that so many of my friends had picked up along the way, and marched myself down to the ghetto-fab Edinburgh Bargain Store for needles and cheap yarn. The resulting scarf was, in a word, laughable. It was also bright teal, and if I'm not mistaken, it's currently padding breakables in my storage unit. I tried to continue my knitting, first with a new, more subdued, ball of yarn in Edinburgh, then with fresh materials in Birmingham last year, but I've come to the realization that I'm not exactly a knitter.

I do, however, really like playing with jewelry.

Jewelry making - or at least the bead stringing/headpin wrangling with which I'm currently experimenting - is as relaxing as knitting, but without the cramping knuckles. I've made Christmas presents. I know the faces at the bead store downtown and where to find the cheaper supplies at Michael's. Heck, I've even made earrings to kill time pre-Torts. It's just fun.

Also, um, I like shiny things. And semiprecious stones. Now, if only I could scrape together the hundreds of dollars I'd need for a string of decent larimar, we'd be in business...

Thwarted by the Man

I was this close to actually getting something I wanted with my Westlaw Rewards points.

For those who have no idea what I'm griping about, West and Lexis are the two big publishers of casebooks, reporters, study aids, and other legal paraphernalia. Each runs an online search service, for which firms pay dearly. (Our Lexis trainer said it might cost $10 to run a party name search and $250 to run a search on terms. Moral of the story: spell it right the first time. Yipe.) While we're students, however, the searching is "free", or at least included in our tuition, and the West and Lexis reps give us candy and branded goodies. Why? Their companies are desperately hoping that someday we'll be managing partners willing to fork over megabucks for an online service, and that our law school experience will give us warm and fuzzy feelings about one company or the other.

To foster the warm and fuzzies, each service also offers students rewards on a point system. Do a search? 10 points a day. Complete a weekly activity? 150 points. Attend a training course? 400 points. Buy a West casebook from the site? 500 points.

Given that I already have my casebooks for the semester and I'm not a huge fan of mostly self-explanatory training (and I, erm, like my long homework break in the middle of the day. Yeah...), my point accumulation has been slow to this point, but I managed to rack up a 1,230 total this morning. "Hooray!" I thought. "Shopping time!"

See, the thing is, I have a taste for bad TV, and West was offering Paranormal State: Season 2 for a mere 1,200 points. It's kind of fun to watch undergrads running around old houses, jumping every time the floor squeaks, with their stable of demonologists, psychics, priests, and resident pagan for help. Mindless, but fun.

I'd noticed before that the West shopping categories said "DVDs - 2400 point minimum", but I'd assumed that meant that the DVDs went for, well, at least 2,400 points. Imagine my surprise to find a few that didn't. (Check out the stand-up comedians for more.) And so, with joy in my heart and a slight quiver of excitement in my mouse finger--I was actually getting something for my time!--I moved to Checkout.

Where my hopes and dreams of seeing Paranormal State in the next week died.

As it turns out, that 2,400 point minimum doesn't refer to the base price of the DVDs, but to the amount one must spend on DVDs to have them shipped.

Looks like I'm back for Training: Part II. Crud...

Bleh

I appear to have contracted the class plague (no, not the Avian Swine Flu Pox o' Doom), which, while annoying, gave me a fabulous excuse to get 11 hours of sleep last night. It's also taught me a few things lately:

1) Remembering your dreams is not all it's cracked up to be, especially once you realize that most of them are law school-related. Seriously, subconscious, I'm already spending the majority of my waking hours there--could we get a tad more creative, please? I'm chalking this one up to the cold drugs and moving along.

2) Vicks Vaporub is magical. Messy, smelly, but magical.

3) I'm willing to give zinc lozenges a try, but for the record, sticking one in your mouth and falling asleep is a horrible idea. I woke up three hours later with a mouth that tasted like a truckload of pennies, and brushing my teeth didn't help. Sheesh, I thought part of this experience was losing your sense of taste...

In sum, I doubt I'm contagious (this thing started coming on before Foxfield), but if I sniff loudly or give anyone a glassy-eyed stare today, I'm really sorry. Oh, joy--there's nothing quite like being annoyingly symptomatic.

Recovering from the races

Yesterday was my first Foxfield outing, an introduction to the glories of steeplechase and to the tailgating prowess of my fellow 1Ls. Fried chicken. Hummus. Pizza. Cookies. Fruit trays...

...oh yes, and ridiculous amounts of alcohol. Section H wins the Classiest Cocktail award for mint juleps (with five gallons of fresh, homemade, mint-infused simple syrup). The LLMs came up with something unidentifiable but reportedly strong. Several sections, including J, went Southern with sweet tea vodka and various mixers, while one section just bypassed the bottles in favor of pouring the punch straight into the cooler. (Hey, whatever works, folks.) I broke down around 11:30 and had a mint julep, figuring that as long as I was going to walk around a muddy field in a newly-trimmed hat, I should drink something vaguely reminiscent of Kentucky. Then again, drinking said mint julep from a red Solo cup kind of killed the ambiance.

There were sunburns, there were long lines at the Port-a-lets, there was seersucker and madras and a tux with tails, and at least one guy too far gone to keep from falling over himself. There were adorable terrier races and, surprisingly enough, actual horses. (I know, I know, some students have never seen a horse at Foxfield--they're rather like the yeti. Fast, sweaty yeti.) Yes, there were horses, and jockeys to ride the horses--all except the jockey riding #3, the horse on which I was unofficially betting, who managed to fall off said horse in the final stretch of the first race. Hey, as long as you're down, might as well wander over to the Law Tailgating Ghetto and grab yourself a cold one, buddy.

Everyone seemed to be none the worse for wear today, though the Virginia Law Weekly complained last Friday that we weren't getting Yom Kippur, "the Jewish holy day of Foxfield hangovers," off from class. At least we're in the home stretch before Fall Break, the long weekend of outlining and pre-midterm cramming.

Um, party?

Better than Bar Review...

...The Decemberists! At the Pavilion last night!

After an opening by Laura Veirs and The Hall of Flames, they played The Hazards of Love in its entirety--and since that was an hour straight, they followed it with a half-hour break/set change before returning to do older pieces. Colin Meloy conducted a sing-along, the crowd rocked out to accordion solos, glow sticks were tossed around the front of the room, and some folks from Section L actually showed up in their softball t-shirts. Way to represent, folks.

But no one seemed to have as much fun as the fellow I'll simply call Windmill Man, who stood just behind the crowd...erm...dancing to his own beat. Sometimes he held his face in his hands. Sometimes he raised his arms to heaven, as if Jesus were speaking to him via the spotlights. Sometimes he just stared around the room, as if noticing that our row was laughing at him, but seemed to forget almost as quickly. And then, just for the hell of it, he broke into windmills--huge, sloppy, random windmills. Given that no one on stage was doing windmills at the time, this proved all the more interesting for those of us sitting behind him.

In between dance numbers, he'd sniff at a beer that may or may not have been his, and sometimes bump into people. Someone toked during the concert, but I have no clue what, besides too much alcohol, Windmill Man could have been on. I'm tempted to say he was high on life, but he seemed a bit too far gone.

In conclusion: Ghost children, ball tossing, and "Wait, is that Professor..." moments made for an excellent evening.

A minor plea

Dear Girl From Another Section:

I love sandals, you love sandals, we all seem to love sandals, even though the classroom thermostat is set somewhere between "chilly" and "Antarctic." You want to wear flip-flops? Be my guest.

You want to take off your flip-flops while you tuck your feet into your chair? Not hurting anyone.

What I don't get is why you felt the need to pick at your toes during class this morning. Please clean your feet before you come to school. Please. That's all I'm asking. I don't care what you wear, but for heaven's sake, I don't want to watch you mine for gold. My breakfast is still digesting.

Just a thought.

Donation Fail

I like to think that I'm not a completely non-civic-minded person. Granted, I don't recycle on a regular basis and I'm not driving a Prius, but when something like a school blood drive comes up, I try to get in on it. Come on--they come to you, they offer snack food, and all you have to do is kick back and be a tad...exsanguinated. Nothing to it, and you might just save a life. It's win-win, really.

And so, when Virginia Blood Services announced that they were coming, I made my reservation and showed up after LR&W this morning. They ran the usual tests--the handy mini-physical and the "Are you sure you don't have Mad Cow or sleep with prostitutes?" questionnaire--and then it was time for the Main Event.

I requested my left arm. Nurse I Don't Want To Be Here poked and prodded, glared at it, then switched to my other arm and repeated the operation. When that produced nothing, she called Nurse Knows What She's Doing, who did her own poking, then shook her head and said, "No way. I'm scared to stick you."

"What's wrong?" I asked, having thought that the iron test would be the major hurdle of the day.

"You have spaghetti veins," she replied, releasing my arm. "And the only vein I could find, the one over here? It's an artery."

Crud.

They recommended I drink a ton of water and come back tomorrow, which isn't going to work. On the way out, Receptionist Nurse told me to take food and a t-shirt. I told her I hadn't actually given any blood, but she said to go ahead, that I could have another tomorrow.

So now I have a t-shirt, a Qdoba coupon, and a "Be Nice To Me, I Gave Blood Today" sticker. Tell me, am I a horrible person because, as I walked away, I began wondering if VBS's promise to provide said goodies could be enforced, and whether there was any consideration to this arrangement?

In other news, most of the dreams I remember are now law school-related. Help.

This seems familiar somehow

After a delicious Mexican dinner (and the near-hour of fighting gameday traffic snarls it took to get there--seriously, Charlottesville, let's think about widening some of these roads), I went to see 9 this evening. The film provided a most welcome respite, though I couldn't help noticing a few...echoes. A sample:

Lord of the Rings: A small creature played by Elijah Wood must enter the dark, dangerous stronghold of Sauron, an evil immortal portrayed as a giant red eye. Sauron is virtually destroyed when the Ring is thrown into the volcano.

9: A small creature voiced by Elijah Wood must enter the dark, dangerous stronghold of The B.R.A.I.N., a master robot whose defining "facial" characteristic is a large red light. The robot's minions are destroyed when the protagonists burn the factory down.

Return of the Jedi: At the end of the film, three "Force ghosts" come out to briefly join the party and wave.

9: At the end of the film, the five "stitchpunk ghosts" are released and wave their goodbyes.

There are other nods, like the War of the Worlds-style Giant Tripod Machines o' Death, but this film does have its creative bits. Most notable is the animation, which is quite good.

In sum: See it again? Probably not. Better than reviewing my notes? Most definitely.

Overheard on the U-Hall bus

I took my second University bus trip this afternoon, and for the record, let me say that I truly loathe the parking situation in this town. First, I drove from the Law School blue lot--the North Forty, let's call it--and parked less than a mile away at U Hall. From there, I caught a bus that took a whopping twenty minutes to get me a mile up the road to Gilmer. Honestly, it almost would have been quicker to walk.

The presentation at Gilmer was fun--apparently, a majority of UVA Law alumni from the class of 1990 are at least satisfied with their lives--but then came the bus ride back. Silly me, I assumed every bus eventually made the U Hall rounds. Ha. As we cruised back toward Gilmer half an hour later, the bus driver told me he'd drop me at the Chapel to wait for a transfer. At least I got the Central Grounds tour.

On my final bus of the day, I found myself beside two undergrads, both track members, a boy and a girl. Their conversation went roughly as follows:

Boy: Are you still sick?

Girl: Yeah, I was supposed to be with the coach this morning, but I called and she must have heard it in my voice, so I had to go to the doctor, and now I'm waiting for blood work. Actually, I should be in physics right now.

Boy: No big deal.

Girl: Yeah, but I skipped class yesterday, too. I just don't feel good.

Boy: Me, either. So...are you going out tonight?

Girl: Yeah, I think so.

*Facepalm*

Okay, children, what did your mommy always tell you? If you're too sick for school, you're too sick to play. Alcohol isn't going to kill the germs...