Hello, World

I started a personal blog way back in the dark ages of 2006, at the suggestion of a co-worker who thought it would be interesting to keep a log of my year in Edinburgh. And so I did—I was diligent, I updated fairly frequently, and I posted some rough homemade videos that are best forgotten. Basically, I blogged because I wanted to have a record of my time abroad, but also because I figured the only people reading it would be a few friends and my mother.

After grad school, the blogging flagged, largely because I was working, and as we were all warned, blogging about work is never a good idea. Unless, of course, it’s a company-approved blog and one is saying nice, sanctioned things about said company. Thus, when I mentioned work, I tried to keep it vague and positive—good for intern job security, bad for storytelling. The rest of my life suffered from “Oh hey, I’m home” syndrome—when one is a permanent tourist, everything is compelling and fascinating, but when one returns to familiarity, it’s difficult to find anything worth mentioning, even to the limited audience of one’s friends and mother.

Even once I started law school, the blogging went in fits and starts. I gave fleeting thought to blogging 1L, but it’s been done (see, e.g., Scott Turow, One L). Then there were the continuing warnings about maintaining one’s online presence—do you really want potential employers to Google your name and find, oh, the Feb Club blog (see, e.g., http://abovethelaw.com/2011/02/do-you-really-need-confederate-flag-decor-at-your-law-school-party)? Or, for instance, that Con Law is a confusing slog you wished you could avoid, or that you still aren’t sure how the Rule Against Perpetuities works?

In short, I posted six times last year: Going back to Europe, annoying Justice Scalia with my inability to turn to the correct signing page, trying to compress Con Law to a single sheet of paper, running with Vibrams, seeing a poor schmuck hit an unmarked police car, and doing a cite check without the benefit of having access to the law library (a situation that, thankfully, has gotten much easier since VJIL took our cite checks to the server. Love it). For all practical purposes, the blogging of 2006 had been reduced to posting weird articles on Facebook.

Not too long ago, my friend Laura began a new blog (About books! With regular updates and everything! Read it here: http://www.whatbookshouldireadtoday.com), also using Blogger. I looked over at her screen this morning and noticed she had pulled up Blogger’s Stats page, which has been much expanded since the last time I used it. Curious, I opened up this blog’s stats to see what, if anything, had been happening in my absence.

I had twelve page views on March 1.

Twenty-two on February 28.

Someone had visited from Poland last month.

In short, I’m shocked. I’m fairly sure that most of these hits were by accident, but just in case, to the seventeen people in the Netherlands who looked at my blog last week, hello from Virginia.

I still have no idea who you are or how you stumbled onto me, but that’s cool.

Fun with Cite Checks

Doing a journal cite check when one is several hundred miles away from one's law library can be challenging. Oh sure, we've got remote access to UVA's library databases and to Hein Online (which makes me about as happy as JSTOR did back in undergrad...and perhaps I'm flying the nerd flag a little too high, there...), but what do you do when the source so desperately in need of verification is a book, one that the local public library--not the city branch, but the entire county--has never seen?

Enter the good folks at Cumberland School of Law in Birmingham, who have not only a nice law library, but liberal use policies. I've been twice now, and it's as easy as showing my UVA card and giving them my phone number. Add to that their bookstore's used Nutshell collection, and I'm a Cumberland fan.

Get this: I popped by tonight to do a cite check and was met by a sweet lady at the desk. After explaining why I was there, she not only filled out my paperwork with a smile, but insisted on looking up the book for me, pointing out the staircase and elevator, and giving me a rough approximation of where the book should be, and told me to come straight back down to the desk if I couldn't find it. She finished with, "Welcome to the law library!" and handed me a printout of the call information, just to be safe.

So nice. The only way it could have been better is if I could have accessed their Wi-Fi, but hey, that's what Blackberries are for, right?

Someone had a bad day...

There are bad days, and then there are "God, why do I bother getting out of bed?" bad days, days that get submitted to FML and score plenty of "I agree, your life sucks" sympathy votes. This might just have been one of them.

At least it wasn't mine...

As I was walking back from lunch with another intern, I heard a crash and looked down the block to see a gray car slammed into the front of a maroon car. It appeared that the gray car had pulled out of the deck or away from the meter and, without bothering to look, had merged into its neighbor as the maroon car, you know, actually minded traffic laws.

We stared at the collision for a few seconds, taking in the automotive carnage and remarking that the gray car had to be responsible, and then the situation worsened exponentially.

See, you're having a bad day when you hit another car and it's quite clearly your fault.

It's much worse when the victim car's driver turns on the hidden blue light before he steps out, jacket off and scowling. Yes, it's an exceptionally bad day when you hit an unmarked police car.

Well done, gray car. Good luck with that one.

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.