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.
Wednesday, September 30, 2009
Monday, September 28, 2009
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?
...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?
Friday, September 25, 2009
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.
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.
Tuesday, September 22, 2009
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.
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.
Wednesday, September 16, 2009
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.
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.
Saturday, September 12, 2009
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.
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.
Friday, September 11, 2009
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...
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...
Sunday, September 06, 2009
Something's wrong with this picture
It's 6 p.m. on Sunday night. I've sung two church services today and finished dinner. Do I:
A) Relax with the Planet Earth marathon?
B) Read something fluffy?
C) Try to improve my pathetic Bejeweled Blitz score?
D) Think, "You know, this would be a fabulous time to go back to school and get ahead in my reading," since it's been a whopping 48 hours since I was last on grounds and I'm feeling guilty about it.
It's 7:50, my Contracts casebook is beside me, and I'm staring at the lockers. Yup, option D won.
Sad, isn't it?
A) Relax with the Planet Earth marathon?
B) Read something fluffy?
C) Try to improve my pathetic Bejeweled Blitz score?
D) Think, "You know, this would be a fabulous time to go back to school and get ahead in my reading," since it's been a whopping 48 hours since I was last on grounds and I'm feeling guilty about it.
It's 7:50, my Contracts casebook is beside me, and I'm staring at the lockers. Yup, option D won.
Sad, isn't it?
Saturday, September 05, 2009
Dandelion
Before entering, 1Ls anticipate all sorts of things: expensive textbooks, being called by their last names, and middle-school-style drama. What many of us didn't expect was Dandelion, or as someone put it yesterday, "the last vestige of law school hazing."
Basically, yesterday afternoon, the 2Ls, 3Ls, and 1Ls who opted to not embarrass themselves headed over to the Park, where the kegs were tapped at 4:30. From the shade, they could then watch (and heckle) as each 1L section and the LLMs performed a skit or dance with a theme somehow tied to the section letter. (J was Michael Jackson, for instance, D was Decades, G was Ghostbusters, K was KISS, and I was Eye of the Tiger. Also, L was on a boat.)
After participating and watching a few skits, here's what I learned:
1) None of us got into UVA on our mad dance skills.
2) Cross-dressing is an integral part of the Dandelion experience.
3) If you lube up with baby oil, then mock-box someone in the bed of a pickup truck, you win. (Or you can do what last year's winners did and convince Prof. Harrison to do Hugh Hefner for you, complete with Bunnies and the Wahooptie. Either way.)
The prize? Playing softball against the upperclassmen last night.
Honestly, I wasn't too sorry to see victory pass us by.
Basically, yesterday afternoon, the 2Ls, 3Ls, and 1Ls who opted to not embarrass themselves headed over to the Park, where the kegs were tapped at 4:30. From the shade, they could then watch (and heckle) as each 1L section and the LLMs performed a skit or dance with a theme somehow tied to the section letter. (J was Michael Jackson, for instance, D was Decades, G was Ghostbusters, K was KISS, and I was Eye of the Tiger. Also, L was on a boat.)
After participating and watching a few skits, here's what I learned:
1) None of us got into UVA on our mad dance skills.
2) Cross-dressing is an integral part of the Dandelion experience.
3) If you lube up with baby oil, then mock-box someone in the bed of a pickup truck, you win. (Or you can do what last year's winners did and convince Prof. Harrison to do Hugh Hefner for you, complete with Bunnies and the Wahooptie. Either way.)
The prize? Playing softball against the upperclassmen last night.
Honestly, I wasn't too sorry to see victory pass us by.
Wednesday, September 02, 2009
Oddest moment of the week thus far
Apologies to anyone already subjected to my Blackberry photos...
Hot air ballooning is a big thing in Charlottesville, and with good reason: the scenery is fabulous. Tuesday morning, as I was preparing to head to school, I noticed a balloon hovering over my apartment complex. Thinking nothing of it, I pulled out onto Georgetown, but as I drove, I saw the balloon out my left window, flying just ahead of me. I lost sight of it as I turned onto grounds, but when I rounded the corner to park, I saw it coming down in our lower lot.
As I pulled in, the balloon was just touching down, and, like an idiot, I jumped out of my car with the phone out, ready to take some shaky pictures. I managed to snap the basket--the darn thing was too close to be shot as a whole--and one of the kids inside spotted me.
"Hi!" he called.
"Hi!" I called back, feeling kind of like a stalker. "That's really cool!"
"It is!" he yelled. "You should try it!"
Good point, kid...
I hefted my backpack and headed for school, wishing ballooning had been part of our orientation activities.
Tuesday, September 01, 2009
It's not you, it's me
Dearest Civ Pro and Torts,
It's not that I don't love you. I love all my courses equally. It's just that I have questions about your behavior, now and in the future.
That's why I bought the Nutshells.
Really, it's not you, it's me.
Kisses.
It's not that I don't love you. I love all my courses equally. It's just that I have questions about your behavior, now and in the future.
That's why I bought the Nutshells.
Really, it's not you, it's me.
Kisses.
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