Friday, November 15, 2013

The Most Miserable, Yet Wonderful, Time of the Year

For awhile now, I've been cursed with a temporary case of writer's block. Everything I typed was pointless and utter crap. I had nothing new to say I suppose and the last thing anyone wanted to hear about was pumpkin spice lattes, Halloween costumes, or that Hobby Lobby already has their Christmas stuff up and ready to go. *sigh* It's truly the most wonderful time of the year. And at the same time, it's the most miserable time of the year. But I will let you in on a little secret - it's really not that bad.

This is the time of year law students dread. We dread the looming finals, the deadline for papers, the hours upon hours of study time, outlining, memorizing, and to top it all off, juggling all that with holiday time with the family. By all intensive purposes, we are (or should be) miserable. And our appearance shows it.

Sweatpants become an almost daily occurrence. Our greasy hair gets a shot of dry shampoo (if we're lucky) and a messy bun emerges. Makeup make or may not be worn. Slip on shoes become our best friends. Our study carrels overflow with paper and books and outlines. Our free WestlawNext highlighters run dry. Everywhere you look, there are at least three people drinking coffee. Lots of coffee. Sweatshirts, scarves, shawls, blankets, anything that can double as a pillow are brought to class and the carrels. We seriously consider bringing actual pillows. If we're not at our carrels, we've nested at our desk at home or Starbucks or Java Break. Our workout routines either become non-existent or intensify with the stress level. And we will eat anything that's put in front of us because chances are, we forgot to eat two meals ago. Or we continuously snack, hence the necessary workouts.

Now, keeping that image in mind, I absolutely LOVE this time of year. For me, there is nothing better than having things to do. It means more "to do" lists. It means I constantly need to be somewhere, doing something, listening to someone, writing, reading - working.  Rushing all over campus. Justifying a coffee shop trip for my Digital Works readings between classes. Wearing heels that click when I trot on the tile. Throwing on the traffic court robes and making out like I'm a real judge. Practically running out of class to get to work on time. I suppose it makes me feel important, to constantly need to be somewhere.

And all that work means I can justify sitting here, listening to Jump (For My Love) by the Pointer Sisters, and write a blog for you, my readers. And after this, I'm hitting the treadmill to complete what I'm told is a REALLY less intense version of some sort of military workout. Which means I won't be running (walking/jogging) 3 miles in under a half hour and no push-ups. And after all that, however long all that may be, I'm going to sit at my desk and work on my tax outline. Or memorize evidence rules.

But the point is, while we law students complain and are completely miserable at this time of year, if you think about it - I think we actually kind of like it. It's a rush that is unlike any other.  And the relief after turning in that Open Memo (1Ls), completing that final Trial Ad trial, or just finishing an outline you thought would never get done - that's actually pretty gratifying. Or maybe it's just me. Which is entirely possible.

Saturday, October 5, 2013

Power and Light

So this weekend I went out with the girls to P&L (Power and Light) in Kansas City. For those of you unfamiliar with this place, it is basically the bar/club hub in KC, MO. At least, as far as I know. But I had never been before, so it was decided that I needed to see what all the fuss was about. And to be honest...I wasn't all that impressed.

Mostly, I suppose, because I had never really experienced the whole "big city club scene" before. So this girl from small town western Kansas learned a few things about how these clubs operate. And you'd think I would say they run on lowered inhibitions and overpriced drinks, but I think it runs on something else entirely. I'd say the whole scheme runs on vague lies we tell others - and ourselves. Honest.

So here's a few reasons I feel that way (based on my exchanges at P&L):

1) Nobody tells the truth. I wasn't prepared for this one. When meeting new people, I find the simple questions like, "What's your name?", "Where are you from?", and "What do you do?" to be the three basic staples of base line getting-to-know-you. I don't expect people to lie, because I don't lie about these things. How naive that must sound. But after the first few introductions, I started questioning the truthfulness of the respondent's answers. (That soundly so lawyer-like I smiled. :) )

Most people were quick on answering their names, but never last names. My inner Meg Ryan from "You've Got Mail" was like, "Don't they know you're supposed to have a last name?" And granted, the music was loud and I'm never going to see those people again, so why bother with formalities, eh? But still, I'm pretty sure I looked like this:

http://i222.photobucket.com/albums/dd61/Nerd-Inc/frenchkiss_really.gif

And I met people from all over the U.S. who somehow decided KC was the place to be. The craziest answer I got was from a guy from "Minnesota" even though he didn't have a northern accent and he was in town for the barbeque after doing a bike ride for something. Could be true, but the more he talked, the more I was not buying it.

But the third question...ohhoh...getting an answer to that one was like pulling teeth. The best response I got was "Why does it matter what I do?" which I interpreted as, "I don't do anything and probably still live in my parent's basement, so I'm going to avoid answering this question at all costs by making you feel bad for asking it."Disappointment.

http://s222.photobucket.com/user/Nerd-Inc/media/yep.gif.html?sort=3&o=0

2) Because nobody is really telling the truth, they think you are lying too. Do you know how many guys questioned the fact that our group of girls were, in fact, attending law school? All of them. No one believed Kate was from Chicago. Or that Angela served in the military. No one believed that I spoke German (apparently it sounded like gibberish). They didn't buy it. Any of it, even though it was all 100% truth. Apparently, you're supposed to not tell the truth (the whole truth and nothing but the truth so help you God) in these places. And no matter what, you end up just being like:

http://s222.photobucket.com/user/Nerd-Inc/media/eminem-apathy1.gif.html?sort=3&o=0

3) Nobody really dresses for themselves. This one is obvious enough, but most people at P&L (men and women) were clothed for other people. I wore something nice, but something I was comfortable in. The point is to get noticed. But I felt like (and I could be wrong about this) if I saw these people on the street, I wouldn't recognize them. So therefore, I didn't trust my instincts about them.

4) Playing "dumb" is all part of the game. This is not my strong suit. I happen to belong to a group of strong, intelligent, wonderful women who are not going to apologize for being that way. And I have been told repeatedly that I need to play dumb when flirting because I will 'never get a man' if I don't. But I will not have that; I will not have it. Therefore, I will not lie about being nerdy or caring about my education and I will let you know that you are in Missouri when you think you are in Kansas and if that upsets you (it really shouldn't) - I'm just here to dance. Also, the sheer amount of laughing at unfunny things in those places is very disturbing.

http://i222.photobucket.com/albums/dd61/Nerd-Inc/as-if.gif

My takeaway from all this is this: I had a pretty good time with friends and experienced something new - which is always a good thing I think. But it's not my bag. I'll take a jazz club, a country bar where real country music is played and cowboy boots are worn un-ironically, or a nice pub type atmosphere where casual clothing is readily accepted over P&L any day. Biergartens and Diskotheks are also much loved - obviously. 

Tuesday, October 1, 2013

Subway Characters

So last night while doing laundry, Lady Gaga's song "Judas" shuffled through. And I'm not particularly fond of the song per se, but I love listening to it because it brings up memories from my summer in Germany. Seriously, Germans have an obsession with Lady Gaga. But that's not what I want to talk about, primarily anyways.

People on the Subways in Germany are...great. Their trains are not like in London, Boston, or Chicago (and I have yet to visit New York, so I can't comment on theirs, but I gather the experience is not that great). The trains in Germany carry their people - all their people in one way or another. But there are some particular characters I met on their glorious transportation system - and here they are in no particular order.

1. The two Lady Gaga fans who (while listening to their iPods) sang and danced  to "Judas" for us, without any prompt, I might add. They were actually pretty good.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wagn8Wrmzuc

2. The shaky beggar with crazy eyes that hopped on the train EVERY time we tried to leave the Alexanderplatz station. I don't think he ever filled up that crumpled paper Coke cup in a day.

3. A little old German lady who wore stockings and orthopedic shoes who always had an opinion on where we should go visit next. It usually involved a museum of some sort.

4. A tourist who did not (or could not) speak German. And what's weird is, after being in Germany for awhile, we could pick them out and silently judge them because we sorta felt like natives. Psht. Stupid tourists.

5. A school of little German school children wearing matching scarves on a visit to the school. They were adorable until we all realized that they spoke German better than we did. And they were 7 years old.

6. A middle-aged couple on their way to any one of the many "Fests" around the country. One particular couple went to a Polka Fest  - and they were excited about it.

7. A guy who I think just sat there and read the newspaper all day on the train. Hey - that's not a bad retirement plan.

8. A guy in a business suit who refused to sit down (maybe he thought his pants would wrinkle) with a super serious look on his face. He was probably a lawyer.

9. A group of three or four guys getting their drink on with some regional brew. Which could also be seen on the sidewalk. Note: drinking in public is commonplace.

10.  Instrumentalists that ruined whatever you had planned on listening to because their trumpets were so f***ing LOUD.

Bonus: There were also a bunch of American students pretending to "be German," even though we fooled nobody. But we did get a whole bus to sing along to Journey's "Don't Stop Believin'" after the first game of the Women's World Cup. People broke out into song a lot now that I think about it...

Monday, September 30, 2013

BA Things I've Gleaned from Professors Over the Years

So the other day, a girl in my class heard me talking about my BA class, and was like, "What does BA mean?" (It really means Business Associations, but we started joking about how our professor was teaching us to be badass lawyers.) And I started thinking, you know...I have learned some pretty badass things from my professors over the years, so here's a short list:

1. Mystery Science Theater 3000 should be watched while editing news articles. And any other time for that matter.

2. Bob Dylan, Pink Floyd, and Warren Zevon never get old. Ever.

3. Reciting memorized passages from Milton during class lectures is pretty badass. Same with Shakespeare.

4. Giant trucker mugs filled with coffee (that were likely spiked with whiskey) is the perfect drink for teaching students sentential logic. Also using sentences like, "Professor X drinks malt liquor, but not Coors light." is very effective.

5. Crossword puzzle races are not for the faint-hearted. And they can be completed in under 10 minutes.

6. German is sometimes easier to learn after a few beers. This is still the case.

7. Even if you're the director, and supposedly like all types of music - it's ok to say you hate bagpipes.

8. No matter how you think Cinderella's stepmother is supposed to look like...your director sees her very differently, and you will not look the least bit attractive on stage. Deal with it.

9. Professors have "rivalries" and may or may not use outlandish hypotheticals involving magic  mushrooms and murder to outdo one another.

10.  Anything and everything considered "obscene" can be discussed in an academic setting.

Ok, so these may not be "badass," but they kind of are. Also, I might mention this comes from years in the English, Theater, Music, Modern Languages, Philosophy, and Law departments. So...I've got the monopoly on quirky-awesome, badass professors. :)

Wednesday, September 25, 2013

You Can't Copy Real

So I've got about an hour until my next class, and I'm completely read up for my classes this week - so I'm going to have a bit of a chat with myself about computer programs. This stems from an article I had to read for my Digital Works class regarding the copyright issues with computer programs that generate music, novels, etc.

First of all, I had no idea that they had computer programs that could do these things. I mean, we have come a long way with technology, but we've apparently got computer programs that can create music and books for our entertainment, without an...well...an author. Granted, you have the programmers and users, etc, but let's be honest - I don't buy it.

Now the copyright issues aside, I just don't trust it. Improvisation in acting and music (I'll admit) is somewhat formulaic. But it is improvised! On the spot! Hypothetically, if you tried to recreate the exact same skit or record the exact same improve jazz solo - it won't happen. There will be variations. That's why people see things live. In person. There is human error. There is human greatness. But  that creativity cannot be duplicated in a few lines of code. I'll bet that a computer can generate the same "random" song again after awhile. Mostly because the "random factor" is just another formula, and in infinite combinations, can still be repeated.

And I suppose the digital novel thing bothers me most. You can read every Ernest Hemingway novel, short story, etc. and create a formula to generate a Hemingway-like novel - but it isn't Hemingway. You can use his concise sentences. You can certainly create the quintessential Hemingway Hero (the man of all men). You can cuss all you want. But I happen to know for a fact, that it cannot be recreated. Mostly because writers, musicians, sports players, ballerinas, etc. get better with practice. They improve, mature, things happen in their life that inspire and drive their craft...you get the picture. So not matter what you put in that formula, you can't account for the mistakes, the human error, the life experiences, the improvement or deterioration of an author's writing, composing skills, etc. Not knowing enough about computers, maybe computers can do that. But in what way? What if my characterization improves over time but my description of setting plateaus? What if I generate a passion for composing all my songs in a completely different key? Can you account for all the factors?

So I don't have all the answers to the legal aspect of this stuff, but I'm skeptical of a computer generated novel. I don't trust it. To me, it's not real.

Real is a back alley jazz club in Berlin. Real is hunting lions in Africa with your wife. Real is conversations with friends the week before they die. Real is stomach growls in a quiet library. Real is sweaty fingers before performing on stage. Real is singing Aretha during a car accident. Real is letting go. Real is making mistakes. You can't copy real.

Sunday, September 22, 2013

Show me

So, lately I've been re-reading old favorites - or at least in part. Fall is so reminiscent and it rubs off on me. But I found myself reading Forever Overheard. If you Google it, you might discover that this is a chapter (of sorts) from David Foster Wallace's Brief Interviews with Hideous Men. It is my favorite example of...showing. Showing is my favorite. It's better than telling. Telling is boring and absent original thought. Showing is best.

I have no idea if I've said this before - I probably have, but it bears repeating. When you write, show me the story. Take Forever Overheard for instance. I could easily tell you that the boy in the story is thirteen years old, he went to the public pool on his birthday and the story is all about how he jumped off the high dive. It seems boring, perhaps, to say it this way, and that is because it is. It's not a freak occurrence, jumping off the high dive for the first time. It's scary and nerve-racking, and if I wrote a story about it and actually said, "It was scary and nerve-racking the first time I jumped off the high dive." you might as well take away my writing privileges.

DFW doesn't say thing like that. He describes the children playing in the pool, the swimsuits of the people in line to jump, the heavy weight of standing on the rungs, and the smell of hot dogs and sugary drinks. It's good enough to take you back to a memory and feel and see and smell that first dive feeling. It shows you the story. If only more stories were like that.

I feel like society doesn't want to be shown - not in this way at least. It wants instant gratification in knowing that something is "beautiful" and "scary" and "sad." We want to define everything for our purposes and attach something so definition-less with a single word. We want things to be simple, but they aren't. We ask for a shallow understanding. But we (or maybe just I) crave a deeper one. A raw, personal, stomach wrenching understanding.

I strive to show. To edit out the telling. To put down the book that says "She looked sad." or "The castle on the hill was hauntingly beautiful." That's not showing, it's telling. Give me authors who show me something - anything new or old or completely re-envisioned. But show me.

Thursday, September 12, 2013

Remembering Band

So last night I was up a bit later than usual and my music major friends starting posting things involving bass clefs and music theory and I got a bit nostalgic. This, along with a conversation about jazz clubs in Paris with my friend Kate got me thinking about my own musical past.

It's not exactly something I put on my resume or anything, but I bet you didn't know that I play piano and saxophone. Now, I'm not an aficionado, but I can play a few things still. I played saxophone for eight years - seriously, I was two years shy of having my 10,000 hours in. And actually, I started out playing the violin, which I hated.

Now what does this have to do with anything? Well, I had the sudden realization last night that I haven't picked up a saxophone in about three years. At one point in my life, couldn't go a week without it. It just didn't happen. I spent some of the best years of my life working and perfecting and playing and now it's just...gone.

I feel like the muscle memory would come back if I picked up the sax again. It wouldn't have to be any one in particular, but I'm partial to the tenor sax. I mean, I haven't purchased reeds in years! I know that none of this is structured and I'm just expressing these things as they come to me, but I suppose my point is this: I miss it. All of it.

I miss waking up early to walk to the football field early in the morning before classes started so that we could walk to the football field for marching band practice. The sun would be up, blinding us, but we didn't care because we had the music memorized. And there was a vein that popped out on our director's forehead when he saw someone wearing flip flops or the clarinet section was off step and out of line again because they couldn't get their shit together - ever. Our shoes were always soaked because the dew never dried on that field and I kinda miss my neck being sore from the weight of the sax as I carried it.

I miss the upperclassmen hiding my sheet music before class and freaking out when I found it in the baritone case in the back room. I miss being squad leader and having my "freshmen" to mentor, which basically meant I bossed them around. I miss my saxophone that I named Achilles because he was new and awesome with tiger's eye keys. I miss ensemble competitions that started way to early and lasted all day while we slept on wrestling mats until everyone was finished. I miss playing for the football and basketball games. I miss "Rumble on the High Plains" which was composed for our school and we begged to play because it was so much fun.

I miss jazz band and getting solos and improving and messing around in middle school. For goodness sakes, I miss the stupid uniforms we had to wear. I miss the people and the directors and everything.

So maybe I just needed to remember, but when I get some time between everything else that I do - I need to pick it up again.