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. :)

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.

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.

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.

My First Blog For KU Law

So....this one is kind of like cheating - but whatever. I was offered the privilege to write a blog for my law school. Of course, the blog had to be related to law school or the practice of law, etc. So I wrote this one (and stifled the urge to post in on here first) and now, I want to share it with a wider audience. Yay! So do not be discouraged by the brevity of this post.

http://kuschooloflaw.blogspot.com.au/2013/09/summer-at-small-town-firm-yields-little.html

So click the link above!

Hint: The post is about what I learned and experienced at my internship this summer. Enjoy! :)

First Day Back

What an odd sort of feeling one gets when walking the halls of an old, familiar building. It is almost eerie, the sensation I mean, to go back to a place you once inhabited, and act as if you never left. I suppose a weaker sensation hit me upon my return to Green Hall for my 2L year of law school. It really didn't feel like a new year had started. There was no orientation or "welcome back" ceremony that some places put on. And believe me, I'm not advocating for a week long orientation for law school every year. I did that once. I'm done. Never again.

But I suppose the best way to describe my time so far in law school, is to imagine the myself at an airport. The application process is like buying an airplane ticket. I chose my destination (law degree), and I gave them my credit card information (application info) and I hoped I had enough to purchase the darn thing and that my card wouldn't be denied. So I show up to the airport with all my luggage (books and things), hand them my ticket (necessary forms) and they point me in the general direction of where I'm supposed to go (orientation). Here's where the metaphor really sinks in.

My first year was all that time walking towards the terminal and going through security. I had to jump through hoops and walk through the metal detector and all that jazz just to get to the hallway, leading me to my gate. And I kept walking and walking and then summer came - BAM! I hit that moving sidewalk at a fast pace and next thing I know, the summer is over, the time flew by, and I'm still walking, ever diligent towards that next moving sidewalk which will take me to that final stretch of runway carpet. And the whole time I'm wondering why I chose the flight with the boarding gate at the end of the hallway.

This second year feels not like the first, and not like a new year. It simply feels like I'm still walking. It's like that feeling when you step off that airport moving sidewalk. My pace hasn't changed, but it feels like time has...somehow.

So here's to the new school year and it's unchanged landscape. And to students everywhere - keep walking. :)

Life Without the Internet

For those of you wondering where I've been for the past few days, or rather, for those of you who haven't noticed my disappearance, let me tell you where I've been. I've been "off the grid." Which is a major exaggeration. Basically, I went without internet for a little while. This was not voluntary, mind you. (I had to wait for the internet guy come and hook it up in my apartment.) And I found out a couple things.

First, my inbox almost exploded in that time frame, as did everything else. I returned to a plethora of new emails, Facebook notifications, computer updates...you get the picture. And the whole time I was disconnected, I worried about missing a professor's email, or a friend's update, or not being able to track the textbooks coming my way. It was terrifying, but I decided to cheat and check - just once for a few minutes to make sure nothing important was missed. And I also did this while picking up some laundry. Which brings me to my next point.

I. Got. Stuff. Done. You have no idea.

I started out having nothing to do, which was completely false. I had a ton of stuff to do, like put all my stuff away, reorganize my apartment, go through school papers from last year, dust, clean, sweep, mop, and shop for groceries. Now, if I had the internet up and running, I probably would have procrastinated and watched Supernatural on loop. I got all my textbooks sorted and printed off my schedule. I did laundry and sorted my shoes. The list goes on. If the experience weren't so darn terrifying, I might just call it liberating. Because if nothing else, my apartment looks fabulous.

So all in all, it was a very productive couple of days. And today was filled with checking emails, Facebook, and watching Supernatural. So there's that. :)