Jeremy's Weblog

I recently graduated from Harvard Law School. This is my weblog. It tries to be funny. E-mail me if you like it. For an index of what's lurking in the archives, sorted by category, click here.

Monday, September 30, 2002

Doing contracts reading at 11:30 is not so fun. But I had Gilbert and Sullivan rehearsal until 11:00. And wasted tons of time this afternoon. So I'm stuck reading late. Almost done though.

I was not offered the production editor position with the technology journal that I interviewed for last week, but actually that's totally cool because I think I'm getting involved in enough that any more will put demands on my time I'd rather not be there. What's dumb is that the guy from the journal had to be really careful so as not to turn all of these people he's rejecting for the editor slots away from doing any work at all for the journal... and so it begs the question why have these couple of slots with an interview process when there's the risk it'll just sour people on the whole journal?

That may not make sense without some background on what the journal does and what these editor slots are. I'll clear it up after I finish the contracts reading. In the meantime, I leave you, my loyal reader(s?) hopelessly confused. Apologies.

Sunday, September 29, 2002

A few notes on today and yesterday:

At noon today, my dorm building had a study break to go get crepes. You know, like pancakes. Kind of odd. But what was really sad is that in this building of probably close to 200 people, only 5 showed up to go. I mean, everyone has to eat *something* around noon, and it's not like there's tons of other stuff going on.... Well, my building's not very social to begin with -- we have our own bathrooms, so there's really no reason to be wandering the halls or anything like that. But still, 5 people? They missed out, actually, The crepes were good.

Yesterday I sub-cited for the Environmental Law Review (that's footnote-checking for the non-law students -- and non-loyal Weblog readers). In the library for three hours checking footnotes. Could you imagine anything more fun than that? The ELR (yeah, it has an acronym) is actually one of the more civil journals -- they just make you do the work for the three hours there, and they give you all the sources and everything. The other journals make you rummage through the Harvard library system finding the books yourself, and give you an assigned number of pages, no matter how long it takes -- the technology one has done that... my section is due on Friday. Hopefully I'll get to it by then.

I saw "Igby Goes Down" last night at the local movie theater -- for a 6-screen theater it's not bad, but it doesn't seem to get the big general-audience movies, so I'm a little concerned about my future movie-going possibilities. "Igby Goes Down" gets one thumb down and one thumb asleep. I didn't get it. Any of it. It all blew right past me and I didn't care. A very uncompelling movie experience. Not recommended for any reason at all. And the Cranky Critic agrees with me.

Tonight, I just finished my 9-page first-year-lawyering memo on the enforceability of covenants not to compete for legal recruiters in New Jersey. Brutal. But it's not due until Friday and I finished it, so I can't complain too much.

And tomorrow is another day.
Brief history just to set something up: after graduating from Princeton in June 2000, I went to work in the marketing department at Trilogy, a software company in Austin, TX. I decided to leave Trilogy in January 2002, once I figured out I was coming here in the fall, basically to give myself some time to write and see if I could make anything happen by searching for writing opportunities and pursuing them unencumbered by a full-time job for 8 months. So one of the things I worked on was I wrote the music for a musical -- I found the librettist (book writer) on a website with postings for collaborators, and he and I and the lyricist he foudn collaborated over the Internet and wrote a musical. Eventually, in July I flew down to Raleigh, NC, where the librettist lived, to record a demo CD of the songs, but until then, the three of us hadn't met. He's now shopping the show to a bunch of theaters around the country hoping to get someone interested. It would be very cool if something happened, but I'm not holding my breath.

To make this relevant -- somehow he convinced the theater critic of the Detroit Free Press newspaper to write an article about our Internet collaboration and the novelty of it. It came out in today's paper. So I'm in the newspaper! Check it out!

Detroit Free Press article -- check it out!

I said check it out!

I mean it!

Saturday, September 28, 2002

A Song Lyric About the Socratic Method of Teaching

It was early Monday morning
I was sitting in my class
The teacher has her seating chart
...and we're not allowed to pass

I sink down a little lower
And pretend that I'm not there
I look into my laptop screen
...start my game of solitaire

And she's calling on my neighbor
And he gets the answer wrong
Where's my casebook, am I ready, must stay strong

Chorus --
(Don't call on me) I did not read the case
(Don't call on me) I'm trying to hide the blank look on my face
I've been staring into space...
Don't call on me

She insults the guy with dandruff
She dismisses Mr. Yale
She says anyone who's not prepared
Will fail.

She goes up and down the aisles
Sees me win my pinball game
Goes back to check her seating chart
Please don't look at my name

And she's got all of this power
And this look that's in her eyes
She's just waiting for when your name's a surprise

Chorus --
(Don't call on me) I did not read the case
(Don't call on me) I'm trying to hide the blank look on my face
I've been staring into space...
Don't call on me

Bridge --
And the guy who went to Stanford
Again has peed his pants
And the girl who's formed a study group
Has breast implants
But that's not really relevant

Chorus --
(Don't call on me) I did not read the case
(Don't call on me) I'm trying to hide the blank look on my face
I've been staring into space...
(Don't call on me) You're gonna make me cry
(Don't call on me) I'll kiss my pride goodbye
I am here in law school why?
Don't call on me
Don't call on me

Friday, September 27, 2002

Just got back from Fenway Park, where I saw the Red Sox beat the Devil Rays 6-1 in the rain. Light rain. Not too bad. Fenway Park is excellent. Nice and cozy. My seat was in the bleachers, which couldn't have been more than half as far as the outfield seats in Camden Yards. In the 6th inning, we moved over to seats right behind home plate -- 4th row -- which was pretty cool. Could practically touch the players. The seats seem much closer to the field than at Shea Stadium or anywhere else I've been. I definitely want to go see some more games in the Spring.

A few random notes on Fenway -- at one food stand they serve a "steak tips" sandwich and a "turkey tips" sandwich. What exactly is a turkey tip? Where is the tip of the turkey? Is it the beak? The feet? I'm just not sure. Also, there's a big milk advertisement on the foul pole -- a big plastic container of Hood's milk, which reads, on the container, "New Light-Blocking Container." That's their big new thing -- I've seen the commercials too. It keeps light out so the milk stays fresher. And, of course, the container is all lit up, glowing brightly in the night. Uh, I thought it was light-proof.

Completely unrelated to Fenway, but has been on my mind for a while and got a good reaction in conversation today, so I figure I'll share -- since I got here, I've been finding that lots of people here studied at Oxford. It probably seems like more than it actually is -- but just because they all seem to bring it up in every conversation. No matter what the conversation is about, it seems like if someone went to Oxford, they're going to find a way to say it. Twice. "Look at that tree!" "Ah, yes. It reminds me of the trees we used to have at Oxford." "It rained like this at Oxford." "I ate a turkey sandwich once at Oxford." "Someone wore a hat like that at Oxford." "That flower reminds of me of something in the gardens at Oxford." "The sky was blue at Oxford." "We breathed air at Oxford." "Objects were made of atoms and molecules at Oxford." And so on. This one guy -- who will of course remain nameless -- I've had perhaps five conversations with him. And in each one, he's found a way to remind me that he went to Oxford. I was at a meeting with him where we all had to go around and introduce ourselves -- "say your name and one fact about you" -- like I even need to write the rest of the sentence, right? Figure it out. It's not that hard. :)

Thursday, September 26, 2002

Had to go to the undergraduate library this morning to find a book for the subciting I have to do for the Journal on Law and Technology. (A brief description of subciting, for the non-law students in the audience -- it's basically checking footnotes in journal articles to make sure they're accurate and formatted properly, based on a 386-page "pamphlet" called the Bluebook. And, yes, it's as boring as it sounds.) So I went to Widener Library. I think it's called Widener because every time they wanted to add books, they just said "Widen 'er." Yeah, not funny, I know. Anyway, this library is huge, and harder to navigate than the streets of a South American country during a soccer championship. Yeah, that's not funny either. So... back to the library... there's an East wing and a West wing, and they're only connected on some floors, and at some narrow passageway in the middle of the library. I asked the librarian how to get from 1-East to 1-West, and she said, "Go through the doors, and make a right. Follow the stacks and then make a right. Go through the door, past the copier, and make a right. Then go past the bathrooms and make a right. Go by the refueling station and make another right. Then follow the signs towards China (I mean "Chinese language and literature"), take off your shoes, go down the slide, under the ropes, make three more rights, and it'll be behind door #3. There's only a copy machine on every other floor. I found a staircase, went up, and was greeted with a sign, "this is not a staircase." Uh, sure it is. Just without a door at the top. Finally I found what I was looking for. Well, sort of. I found 2 of the 3 books I needed to find. The third one is at the Harvard Book Depository, which I think is where President Kennedy was shot. I have to fill out a book release form for it, so they can send someone to the warehouse to get it out of cold storage (next to Ted Wlliams' body) and let me look at it for 4 hours in special reserves on floor B-9 -- that's the 9th floor underground, right above the fifth ring of hell. Yes, so that was my adventure in the undergraduate library. Makes me wish I was an undergrad. Not.

Wednesday, September 25, 2002

Watched the West Wing season premiere tonight. It was good. I have nothing more interesting to say. Promise something funny tomorrow. Working on a poem about the socratic method of teaching. It'll rock. Stay tuned.

Tuesday, September 24, 2002

I went to a panel on Sports Law this evening. 3 attorneys from a firm called Proskauer Rose talking about sports law -- apparently they represent Major League Baseball, the NBA, a bunch of players and teams, David Stern (NBA commish) and Gary Bettman (NHL commish) used to work for them, they do MLB arbitration for the Marlins, Royals, and Expos, they did the owners' side for the MLB strike-avoiding settlement... all sorts of cool stuff.... So HOW did the attorneys on the panel make it all sound so BORING? They were so dull, so unenergetic, talking about how really sports law is just another kind of labor law, and uninteresting blah blah blah. They actually made their jobs sound dismal and horrid. And if it's dismal and horrid doing sports law, then imagine non-sports corporate law. AHHH!!!
Not sure if I've mentioned in the weblog yet -- I'm writing a weekly column for the law school newspaper about life as a 1L. Trying to be even funnier than the weblog, where I don't do rewrites and I'm not expected to produce something with a beginning, middle, and an end. I have an idea for next week's column regarding advice that 2Ls and 3Ls give to us lowly first-years. I did an entry sort of talking about this last week, after the Environmental Law Review's "study tips panel." But that was more of a rambling list. I want the column to hang together better, maybe even to actually have a point. Let's try a quick first draft... postscript: [It needs work. I'm not that happy with it. But it'll do for now.]

Thank You For Your Contradictory Advice

A room full of 1Ls, and the conversation is fairly predictable. Six basic questions. "What's your name?" "What section are you in?" "Where are you from?" "Where'd you go to school?" "How long ago did you graduate?" and "Which of the twenty-five pre-approved corporate law firms do you one day hope to work for?"

Okay, maybe not the last question. But it's probably coming soon. Nevertheless, the conversations all seem to start out with those same basic questions. Put a 2L or a 3L in the room, however, and the Earth begins to spin in a completely different direction. Invariably, it seems like within forty-five seconds, the upperclassman will be holding court, being pelted with questions and urged to share his or her infinite wisdom and advice with us lowly first-years.

In case you haven't yet found yourself in one of these conversations, here's the advice you're missing:

Brief the cases. Don't brief the cases. Go to class. If you want. Your grades are very important. Your grades have nothing to do with how well you know the material. Your grades are completely random and unpredictable. Everyone gets B's, even people who say they got A's. Grading is blind. No, it's not. Gilbert's, Emanuel's, Nutshells, Hornbooks, Restatements, Treatises, Outlines, Flash Cards, Review Tapes, Bar-Bri Classes, Private Tutors, Rent-a-2L, Bribe Professors, Crime of Passion, Transfer to Jupiter, The answer is always "C," Read Glannon for Civ Pro.

Maybe the most confusing advice I've gotten is regarding study groups. I've heard everything from, "I had a study group first-year, and we met every day of the semester from midnight until 4 a.m. going over the day's reading and taking sample exams. Except we took one day off for Thanksgiving. And did a conference call instead," to "At about 11 at night the day before my first exam, I ran into this guy at 7-11 in Harvard Square. He kind of looked familiar, but I'm not really sure if he was in my section, or a panhandler. I asked him if he understood section 2-718 of the Uniform Commercial Code and he kind of shook his head. That was pretty much my only time trying a study group." (Of course, after trying this paragraph out in conversation the other day, just to see if it could get a laugh or if I should just toss it, I got a reply, with all seriousness, "I think the best strategy may fall somewhere inbetween those two." You really think so?)

I think I was most disturbed by a piece of advice I got from a particularly hard-core upperclassman. "Just remember, you're not here to make friends. You're here to get a job." Actually, I have two issues with that statement. The first is fairly easy to dispose of. I'm not "here to get a job." I'm here NOT to get a job! If I really wanted to get a job, I wouldn't be here. I'd have a job. I'm here to hide from that for three more years!

My second issue with the advice is that the two statements don't seem mutually exclusive to me. Unless the job you're here to get is kicking babies and tripping the elderly (and I believe that since that isn't a corporate firm job, it would count as public interest work under the LIPP program, yes?), I don't see why you can't be here to make friends too. I'm totally here to make friends. I can't think of a more dismal outcome to three years here than to leave and not have made a corporate jet-load of friends. Actually, that's not true. I can think of three more dismal outcomes: (1) flunking out, (2) felony-murder, and (3) interest rates on student loans rise to 400% compounded daily. But not making any friends is close to the top of the list.

Worst of all about getting advice from 2Ls and 3Ls is that the advice never comes with the right disclaimers. You never hear, "don't brief your cases. I didn't, and I got all D's," or "you don't need to make your own outlines. I used ones I found on the ground in front of CVS. And this is my fourteenth year as a student here."

I gave myself some advice the other day about listening to other people's advice. I don't. I nod, and smile, and occasionally say "uh huh," or "sure," or "replevin," but I'm not really listening. Instead, I'm collecting cans for the five cent deposit so I can earn enough money to buy every hornbook in the Coop. Because the guy in 7-11 said that was a good idea.

Monday, September 23, 2002

Apparently an incoming Harvard Law student won the Miss America pageant the other night. I heard that for the first time, they had a "knowledge quiz" as part of the competition. The highest score was 12 of 16 correct. If you didn't see the pageant either, you can imagine with me that these were the questions (keep in mind they were multiple choice):

1. What's your name?
2. Spell the first word in the title of the movie "A Beautiful Mind."
3. Name a word that rhymes with "gymsuit" and starts with the sound "sw."
4. Name one President. (Hint: the current President is George Bush)
5. If you're happy and you know it, clap your hands.
6. What's your name again?
7. What's 1+1?
8. Count to ten, starting with the number 10.
9. What day of the year do we traditionally celebrate New Year's Day?
10. If today is Monday, what day of the week is today?
11. Name one TV channel, by number.
12. Put your left foot in.
13. Take your left foot out.
14. Put your left foot in.
15. And shake it all about.
16. Do the hokey pokey, and turn yourself around, and that's what it's all about.

Sunday, September 22, 2002

Got into the a capella group I auditioned for, and got a chorus part in the Gilbert and Sullivan musical -- "Trial By Jury" -- that I auditioned for. Good that these activities exist. A little worried I'm biting off more than I can handle. But no problems yet. I'll wait and see how my schedule looks once things have actual meeting times.

I took my mess of Microsoft Word class notes and turned them into the beginnings of neat and organized course outlines. Here's the before and after:


Contracts notes for Sept. 18 ----- professor says contracts are good.... student in third row wearing green shirt says no..... contracts are always enforceable ---- never --- sometimes.... maybe... **this is very important** page 143, second paragraph from the middle. Justice Rehnquist on contracts..... tomorrow we will continue and look at the next case... bring the supplementary textbook....


I. Contracts are good
---A. No
--------1. Enforceable
------------a. Green shirt
----------------i. Justice Rehnquist
--------------------(a) tomorrow

See? Much better!

Saturday, September 21, 2002

Idea for an offensive comedy sketch -- male bulimics. Lights up on a men's bathroom. Retching and vomiting noises. One stall opens and this big wrestler dude comes out. Next stall door opens, a football player comes out, wiping his mouth. And so on. I don't why I think this is funny. Maybe just because the mental image of bulimics are these wafer-thin girls forcing themselves to vomit and you don't really think of guys as being bulimic.

Frankly, I don't understand bulimia. Anorexia I kind of understand. I want to be thin, so I'll stop eating. Messed up, but at least there's some logic there. But "I want to be thin, so I'll eat everything I can and then vomit it all up?" Doesn't make sense to me. Why does anyone want to purposely vomit? It's disgusting to vomit when it's not on purpose -- how much more disgusting must it be when you're making yourself do it? I just don't get it.

On the topic of bodily functions, this actually reminds me -- there's a USA Today editorial in yesterday's paper written by Al Neuharth, the Founder (and I think still the publisher) of USA Today.

Click here to read this USA Today article, but don't forget to come back

It's about how he wears adult diapers. Seriously. He says it outright, I'm not just making an inference and leaping to conclusions. I have to wonder why he felt compelled to reveal this in USA Today. Aside from the fact that most USA Today readers are still in children's diapers, I just don't get it. It's too much information. Like finding out someone has lice, or warts, or a yeast infection. I just don't need to know. Especially not about the founder of USA Today. I don't care if he wears adult diapers. And I don't know why he wants to tell the world.

Friday, September 20, 2002

Someone told me the library is giving out free spill-proof mugs. And that they're enormous. Second only to the size of the Library of Congress spill-proof mugs...

I got a callback for the a capella group. Sunday night they get to see if I can blend.

I'm going to a party tonight near Central Square, which apparently quite a hike. But that's okay, the exercise'll be good for me.

Nothing else really to say tonight... maybe more after the party...

Thursday, September 19, 2002

Last night I auditioned for the law school's production of "Trial by Jury," a Gilbert and Sullivan musical. I'm not by any means confident that I'll get cast -- but I figured the audition would at least be fun and maybe I'd meet some people into theater and music and stuff like that. If I don't get cast I might volunteer if they need any tech people -- lighting, sound, etc. In fact, that kind of sounds like more fun than performing Gilbert and Sullivan on stage. I'm a writer inside. Not an actor. So not getting cast won't kill me.

I also auditioned for the law school's a capella singing group, Scales of Justice. I auditioned at Princeton for a bunch of a capella groups and never got in. But maybe the competition's less fierce here. Again, no expectations that I'll get in, but I figured why not try it. I'd probably like to get into this more than I would the Gilbert and Sullivan musical, but I'm perfectly prepared to make it into neither.

I know, this entry isn't funny yet. It's coming.

As I continued on the "Join My Organization" Express Train (TM) this week, I attended a meeting this evening for RAP, the Recording Artists' Project. They give legal advice to musicians who can't afford to pay for it. Sounds pretty cool. And they gave out free cookies. Later on tonight I have subciting training for JOLT, the Journal of Law and Technology. (Then I'll take a NAP, the Nocturnal Anti-awake Protocol -- enough with the acronyms!!) RAP had cookies. JOLT promises food of some non-pizza variety. Together they'll make dinner. Anyone here who's worried about cooking simply isn't joining enough organizations. I could eat six meals and still have meetings left to attend. Of course, then I'll need to join the Soccer Club and the Ultimate Frisbee Team to burn off all of the calories.

Every organization says the same thing -- "you can get involved for as much or as little as you want." I just want the food. I don't know.

Wednesday, September 18, 2002

The weblog counter has reached 200! Gosh!
I've got a free bouncing flashing ball from Lexis-Nexis. You bounce it, it flashes. Very useful for alerting people you're in danger, or frightening young children. It's an incentive to sign up for their bar review course. Seems a little early -- like, say, three years early -- to be thinking about taking the bar exam, but I guess there's lots of competition for bar review course providers. They had all sorts of information about how if you sign up now you get free end-of-the-year tutoring sessions for exams, and stuff like that. Not that interested, really. Just too soon to be worrying about the bar exam. Although I appreciate the ball.

This afternoon we have the student organizations fair in the Ropes-Gray room. Could they name that room after two less fun sounding people? I think of ropes and gray and I think of being on line in the post office. Waiting for a bank teller. Visiting someone in jail. Ropes. Gray. How about the Handcuffs-Drizzle room? Should we hold the carnival in there? Or the Trapped-Lightning auditorium. Let's turn it into a dance club. Why couldn't they pair Ropes and Gray with different people to create more pleasant room name combinations? Ropes-Carousel has a nice sound to it -- makes me think of a theme park. The Gray-Hound room could be the travel office. Gray-Zing could be the barn. I don't know. "Ropes" is a tough one for a room name, actually. It conjures up waiting in line. One of those turnstile lines, zig-zagging back and forth and back and forth. It doesn't help that registration was in the Ropes-Gray room, and that basically was just a whole line-waiting extravaganza. It reminds me of a South Park episode I saw once, where they're at an amusement park and there's a "Line Ride," where you wait on line, get to the end, and then you're done. "Thanks for riding the line ride." Acceptable for a cartoon, sure. But not acceptable at law school. I want the student organizations fair to be in the Enjoyable-Diversions room. Or the Time-Filler corridor. Or even the Fail-Gracefully amphitheater. But Ropes-Gray? Come on. They can do better than that...

Tuesday, September 17, 2002

I just went to a "study tips" panel as part of a journal's introductory meeting. No disrespect intended to the second- and third- years on the panel -- because it was all well-intentioned and there was nothing "wrong" with the advice... it just wasn't very useful. Expanding on that theme, a brief rundown of all of the things I've been told will make the first year of law school a success (and, no, this is not going to be yet another comedy sketch disguised as a weblog entry):

Read the cases once. Read the cases twice. Don't read the cases. Re-read the cases before class. Re-read the cases after class. Re-read the cases during class. Write briefs. Brief in the book. Keep your briefs short. Make your briefs long. Don't rely on your briefs. Your briefs can be useful. Take lots of notes. Don't take too many notes. Don't take any notes at all. Get outlines from upperclassmen. Write your own outlines. Buy commercial outlines. Join a study group. Start a study group. Study groups are great. Study groups are useless. Join your group early and meet every week. Wait until the week before exams. Study in your room. Study in the library. Study in the morning. Study at night. Study in the bathroom. Study with the TV on. Study in silence. Study in the dark. Study in your sleep. Don't study. Grades don't matter. Grades are arbitrary. Grades are meaningless. Grades control your future. Raise your hand in class. Never raise your hand. Cut off your hand. Go to your professor's office hours. Have lunch with your professor. Shine your professor's shoes. Do your professor's laundry. Ignore everything your professor says. Read hornbooks. Read treatises. Read restatements of the law. Read the exam answers off your neighbor's screen. Read quickly. Read slowly. Sleep a lot. Sleep a little. Binge. Purge. Starve. Pay your bills. Join activities. Don't join anything. Have fun. Do work. Make friends. Everyone's your enemy. Be prepared. Stop, drop and roll. Say no, go, and tell someone you trust. Only you can prevent forest fires. A watched pot never boils. One in the hand is worth two in the bush. Save your money. Save your soul. Read the cases. Read the exam carefully. Read your professor's mind. A mind is a terrible thing to waste. Set your alarm clock. Don't forget chapter three. The correct answer is (c). Save the whales. Let's make a deal. Leave it to Beaver. Say no to drugs. Play ball!
Tried to mail a small package -- really it's just a padded envelope with a CD and some papers -- today. Sounds easy, right? Well, the nearest post office is in Harvard Square, about a 10 minute walk --no big deal, but I didn't really want to walk 10 minutes. So I went to the Harvard mail room. Surely they'd be able to tell me how much my package weighed, right? I wasn't even going to ask them to let me buy the stamps from them, or ask them to toss it in the mail for me -- although those both seem like reasonable things that might be possible in a mail room. All I wanted to know was what the package weighed.

Me: Excuse me? I have a little package I want to mail, but I'm not sure how much it weighs. I was hoping you might have a scale and be able to tell me how much postage I need to put on it.
Woman: Oh. I don't do that. Try Room 4. They have a pretty good scale.
Me: Thanks.
(I walk to Room 4)
Me: Excuse me? I have a little package I want to mail, but I'm not sure how much it weighs. The woman down the hall told me you might have a scale and be able to tell me how much postage I need to put on my package.
Man: I don't do that.
Me: What do you mean?
Man: We don't do that.
Me: Don't do what? Can't you just tell me what this weighs?
Man: I have a scale, but we really don't do that.
Me: I see the scale. It's right over there. Can't you just weigh this for me and tell me how many ounces?
Man: Aw, just give me the package and I'll see what I can do.
(I hand him the package. He takes 4 steps to the scale and weighs the package.)
Man: It's about 3 ounces, basically.
Me: More than 3 ounces, or less than 3?
Man: I don't know. It's less than a half a pound.
Me: Yeah, I know.
Man: So it's about 3 ounces.
Me: Great. Thanks.
(he hands me back the package)
Man: Don't ask me how much postage that is though. I don't know. It's a bunch of stamps.
Me: Yeah, I'll just look it up I guess. Thanks.
Man: Sure.

Monday, September 16, 2002

I got the world's fastest haircut this afternoon. I was in the barber's chair for 6 minutes. Amazing. He was earning $150 an hour if he could keep that chair filled.

Today's Yom Kippur. I'm not fasting, but I don't think I've eaten any pork or shellfish products today -- yeah, I think the crab in the California Roll I had for lunch was just that imitation crab stuff -- so at least it's a step in the right direction.

They taped the classes today so people who missed them for the holiday can listen to them later. Imagine trying to make sense of an audiotape of class, with the Socratic method and everything... doesn't sound like much fun....

Sunday, September 15, 2002

Almost forgot to mention the new US News college rankings that came out today. Princeton remains at #1. Like that should be a surprise. :)
Harvard Square's kind of nice. Lots of stores. Lots of activity. Lots of choices. Lots of little streets to turn down. But, to continue with the rhetorical device, lots of people asking for change. And -- as opposed to the taxi drivers -- they're more aggressive than their counterparts in New York. They try to make conversation, they stand in the middle of the sidewalk, they follow you, they plead, they make eye contact. They're persistent. It's kind of interesting, actually. Because they don't seem dangerous, and there are lots of people around so it's not like it feels like a safety threat or anything, but it's just a little surprising that this is where they flourish. In Cambridge, Massachusetts, right outside the Harvard University campus. Just seems a little odd and cognitively dissonant to me.

But the real point of this is that I want to write a little sketch about it. So here goes.

"Completely Invented Interview With A Guy Asking For Change In Harvard Square"

Guy Asking For Change In Harvard Square: Nice khaki pants, man. Spare some change?
Me: Sorry. No change.
Change Guy: That's okay. I take bills too.
Me: That's funny. Tell you what. I'll give you a dollar if you'll answer a few questions.
Change Guy: Two dollars. And not those weird Sacajawea coins.
Me: Okay, deal.
Change Guy: Okay.
Me: So how'd you end up on the street?
Change Guy: Orgo.
Me: Orgo?
Change Guy: Yeah. Organic Chemistry. I was a student at Harvard, class of '77. Wanted to be a doctor. Took organic chemistry. Flunked it.
Me: This was before grade inflation.
Change Guy: Yeah. So I flunked it and had to drop out. And I needed some quick cash to start paying back the student loans.
Me: Cause the late '70s and interest rates were so high.
Change Guy: Yeah, exactly. I mean, I voted for Carter, but those interest rates were totally not what I needed at that point.
Me: Okay, so you flunked out and needed the cash. Why begging?
Change Guy: Couldn't get hired at the Gap.
Me: Gotcha. And you've been here ever since?
Change Guy: Actually I tried New Haven for a couple of years but I kept getting mugged.
Me: Understood. So how much do you usually pull in a day?
Change Guy: About three hundred bucks if I work a full eight hours.
Me: Three hundred bucks? That's incredible!
Change Guy: Yeah, my wife thinks so too.
Me: You're married?
Change Guy: Yeah. And we live just up Mt. Auburn Street. My wife's a dental hygienist.
Me: What? Then why are you still on the street?
Change Guy: Well, like I just said, it's lucrative. And it's creative. You know, coming up with new ways to get people to give me money. It's kind of fun, it keeps me sharp. Plus I get to be close to my son.
Me: Your son?
Change Guy: Yeah, he's a sophomore at Harvard. Economics major. He's real smart. Stops by to say hi a couple of times a day, we usually have lunch together.
Me: Where do you eat?
Change Guy: Well usually he just brings me his leftovers from the dining hall. Gotta save on the expenses here. Every quarter counts. Especially those state ones. That's one of the big perks doing this actually. I see the new state quarters usually the day they come out. I've got a whole book of 'em, I'm a collector.
Me: Cool. What do you notice most about Harvard students?
Change Guy: The conversations I overhear. Can always tell who's a Harvard student. They're always throwing those 10-letter words into the conversation. Words like "privileged,"gentrified," and "epiglottis." Sometimes makes me sick. Well, that or the smell coming from Au Bon Pain. Not sure which.
Me: One last question. What's the future hold for you? You want to be here in Harvard Square forever, or you have plans to move ahead?
Change Guy: Well, I've enjoyed my time here. I really have. But actually this is my last semester in the Square. I took the GMAT a couple of weeks ago and scored pretty well -- and I'm starting at the business school next fall. Hopefully start up a technology company of some sort. Make a "change." Get it? Change? Cause I ask for change? It's a pun.
Me: Yeah, I got it. Well it was nice talking to you. Here's your two bucks. Have a nice day.
Change Guy: Thanks. Maybe I'll see you around -- I'm thinking about auditing a couple of law school classes.
I went somewhere and got a sandwich for lunch. The woman behind the counter was wearing a pair of plastic gloves while she made the sandwich. She wraps the sandwich up. She comes over to the register to take my money. She takes my $10, gives me back my change. Still wearing the gloves. Isn't the point of the gloves so that what touches dirty stuff like money doesn't touch the food? Why bother wearing gloves if you're gonna get them dirty? Right? And doesn't it sound dirtier to make a sandwich wearing dirty gloves than with dirty hands? I mean, it's probablty the same either way, but something feels even less sanitary about dirty plastic gloves than dirty skin. I don't know. The sandwich was good, and I'm still alive, so I guess no big deal. But still...

Saturday, September 14, 2002

Tripling up on the entries today to make up for yesterday. Actually no, it's because I have stuff I want to write.

I crashed the Federalist BBQ for lunch today to get free food -- a wise decision (hot dogs were good, the cookies were Great), but I think I may have been a bit too forthcoming as far as my motives. I saw someone from my section and whispered -- 'I'm not really a Federalist, I'm just here for the food' and he gave me a look that didn't seem too welcoming. I tried to cover with a line like "well the Federalists believe in giving power to the states... so why not hamburgers to the hungry..." but that didn't fly. And then I was talking to someone and it came up that I spent a summer in Washington interning for Senator... uh... Schumer. I wanted to swallow that one back when it came out. Ha.

In my defense, I'm probably closer to being a federalist than, say, a socialist, so it's not like I'm some commie liberal spy. I would be willing, however, to bet that the food here was better than it would be at the Human Rights Association barbeque (or, more definitely, the ANIMAL Rights Association barbeque -- "Would you like some ketchup on that empty bun? How about some celery?")
Apologies for no entry Friday. But it's hardly past midnight Saturday morning, so hopefully you'll forgive me.

I just got back from the 1L Boat Cruise in Boston Harbor. Like every other evening social event, it was crowded, noisy, and dark. But this was better than the Bar Reviews. Writing stuff down after midnight, for me, usually produces something a little more introspective and revealing than I'll let myself put on paper during normal business hours. So, given the time, against my better judgment, I'm letting myself write the following poem. Usually my feelings come out in song lyric form, but this one's definitely a poem.

I'm sick of superficial conversations
About the weather and the scenery and the food
I'd like to roll my eyes and scream "enough!"
But I'm afraid that it would come out rude

It's not important where you're from, no really
A city is a city, they're the same
And maybe if I say it one more time now
You'll finally remember what's my name

It feels like there's a padlock on your spirit
A wall that's blocking visions in your soul
I want to know just what you're really feeling
Instead of listening to you play a role

I'll tolerate if you have something witty
A line that you've been practicing all day
But let me know there's something more beneath it
A person deep inside the words you say

I only want to make that one connection
To find someone who understands my brain
An ally, just a friend to whisper thoughts to
To keep me from a journey towards insane

I know there's something more than what I'm getting
There must be real emotions that want out
I'm waiting, listening, pleading, give me something
Cause isn't this what life is all about?

I'm tired of the same old bunch of questions
With answers that you'll anyway forget
I'm sick of superficial conversations
But that's the only kind I seem to get.

Thursday, September 12, 2002

If you've been a faithful reader, you may recall that occasionally I'll stick a phrase in quotes and mention that I'll likely come back to that theme at some point -- recall "Interesting Jobs That Lawyers Have" -- but as of yet haven't. Well, here's another first in a series that may only be one installment long. I'll call it a "Cambridge Travelogue," only because I can't think of a wittier name that still indicates what I'm talking about.

Today's "Cambridge Travelogue" will focus on "North of the Law School."

Heading north of the law school I've found to be generally easier to deal with than heading South, because really there's only one street to head North on (Massachusetts Avenue) and it's really hard to get lost. Heading South into Harvard Square presents all sorts of problems involving underpasses, diagonal streets, locked gates, disorienting 5-way intersections, and a general lack of street signs. But heading North on Massachusetts Avenue presents none of those problems. It's hard to get lost walking up and down a 4-lane road with a big concrete median in the middle (is "median in the middle" redundant? Or perhaps it's the name of a TV show on Fox). Heading North one encounters a wide variety of restaurants and shops, none of which I've visited. One of the first things you pass when heading north (I'll stop capitalizing "north" now because it looks weird) is a Starbucks. When you see the Starbucks, it's reassuring, because you know you must be in civilization and you haven't accidentally wandered off into the woods. The unique flavor of Boston is reflected in ABSOLUTELY NOTHING about the Starbucks, which of course is a carbon-copy of every other Starbucks in the world. A few blocks north of the Starbucks are some ethnic restaurants -- Mexican, Indian, Korean -- that may or may not be good. A few more blocks and you arrive at the Porter Square Exchange, a small shopping mall with a particular focus on Asian food. It's actually quite interesting and unique -- there's an low-priced Asian food court I tried once (the noodles with seaweed were good... I didn't have my glasses so I couldn't read all of the menu, but squinting I saw noodles and seaweed and figured that sounded safe), a Japanese supermarket with all sorts of interesting (and cheap) food items, along with sushi-grade fish, a stand that sells bubble tea (good stuff -- see weblog entry from about a week ago -- although after just three trips there I'm kind of sick of it, which may indicate the novelty has worn off), and the world's smallest Barnes and Noble bookstore, which is really the Lesley University bookstore run by Barnes and Noble, complete with perhaps 5% of the selection of a normal Barnes and Noble (or the super-duper Harvard Coop in Harvard Square that's also obviously a Barnes and Noble, with what looks like a great selection) as well as Lesley University paraphenalia (the official colors of Lesley University are lavender and teal -- no, they're not, but imagine if they were!). Further north is the Porter Square shopping center, with a hardware store, a big Star supermarket -- with these awesome self-checkout stations I'd never seen before. You scan your own stuff and bag it and are outta there in a jiffy -- it's way cool -- and some other stores I can't remember. Further north are the woods. Maybe. I don't know. That's as far north as I've gotten.

In the next "Cambridge Travelogue," whenever that might be -- we head south towards Harvard Square, get lost, and have to buy a map to find our way back (don't laugh).

Wednesday, September 11, 2002

I need to do laundry. First I need to buy laundry-doing supplies, like detergent. This is going to be a significant barrier to the laundry ever getting done. I'm ashamed to admit that twice in college, when I didn't want to do laundry, I went out and bought a few pairs of socks, just so I could wait a few more days. If I had any clue where to buy socks near here -- that is, cheap socks that don't say Harvard on them, because those I'm sure I could find -- I'd be tempted to do the same. But I think I have 2 more days before laundry really gets desperate, so I think I'll push it off until at least tomorrow and perhaps Friday.

I've gotten into a pre-bedtime routine the last 3 nights where I've been watching a Golden Girls rerun on Lifetime at 11:30. It does old up well to the test of time -- there was a Gary Hart joke last night that I'm not certain I fully got -- but Lifetime really needs to change their slogan. Every time they say "You're watching Lifetime. Television for women." I feel like I shouldn't be watching. Like there couldn't be anything more pathetic than watching this. Even though it's 11:30 at night and it's not like I should be doing anything else. But that slogan completely turns me off. They're alienating half their potential audience. It's really stupid, if you ask me. "You're watching Lifetime. Television for women." Like if I wrote "You're reading my weblog. Reading material for my mom," I'd totally be alienating half my audience. :) So I won't say that. Anymore.
Today we had a university-wide moment of silence at 9:40. Normally on Wednesday I have a class from 8:30-9:40. But yesterday she told us she wanted to move it back ten minutes to 8:20-9:30 so we're not interrupted by the moment of silence. It made sense when she said it, but when I got up ten minutes earlier to get to class, it didn't make sense anymore.

Tuesday, September 10, 2002

I went to the Office of Public Interest orientation meeting this evening -- very inspiring speech from a guy who works trying to get prisoners off of death row. It was very much a "do what's in your heart, don't go work for law firms" message, which is a great message for them to be telling us, I think. I was just surprised, honestly, how broad their definition of "public interest" is -- basically anything that isn't a corporate law firm, which is cool. I can't really make fun of this presentation -- I thought it was really cool.

Monday, September 09, 2002

Just got back from the "Journals Fair," where editors from each of Harvard's nine law journals stood up and gave a five-minute speech, trying to get people to join their journal. Which was great, except they all gave... the SAME speech. There is simply no way to distinguish the International Law Journal from the Human Rights Journal from the Journal on Legislation from the other six from their speeches alone. No possible way. All the speeches sounded like this:

Good evening. I'm Law McLawyer, this year's assistant managing associate editor for the Harvard Journal on Cheese. I know you've been sitting through a lot of speeches this evening, but I think you'll find this one is different because of the unique opportunities afforded by joining the Journal on Cheese -- opportunities that are identical to those offered by all of the other journals.

The Journal on Cheese is a relatively new journal. We've been around for the same amount of time as all of the other journals. We're also a relatively small journal, with roughly the same amount of people as all of the other journals. We publish a series of articles in each of our issues, which come out a number of times throughout the year and are, if I may be so bold as to say, the longest journal issues on campus, approximately the same size as the issues of all of the other journals.

In each issue, we publish a wide variety of articles from law professors, judges, practitioners, janitors, and, yes, even students. In fact, the Journal on Cheese distinguishes itself by its commitment to publishing student articles each year -- in exactly the same number as all of the other journals. Last year, we published a fascinating article about the dried-up cheese on the outside of a bowl of French Onion soup written by a third-year student. We have copies outside at our table if you're interested, along with some candy -- the same candy, in fact, as all of the other journals have at their tables.

The Journal on Cheese is really a fun organization to be a part of. We're committed to being not just a sweatshop for first-year students desperate to pad their resume, but we also host a number of social events each year. That number is one. And the event is next week, when we will be hosting an open house to get you to sign up. We'll be providing valuable, interesting, and interminable training sessions over the next few weeks so you can learn how to check citations on articles. Which is of course the work you'll be doing, but in much lower amounts than any other journal would have you do, except if you actually count all of the minutes you'll spend on it.

We're also unique in that we allow first-years to come to our meetings and help us choose articles, just like all of the other journals. First-years play an integral role in helping us say that we have first-years on our journal without having to lie. In addition, from your work at the journal and your attendance at our meetings, there's the possibility of making one or two -- and even in a few rare cases, three -- friends. Some of the best people I've met at Harvard, I've met because of the Journal on Cheese.

In closing, I think it's quite clear why the Journal on Cheese provides the best and most unique opportunities on campus, opportunities that are exactly the same as all of the other journals. I hope you'll visit us at our table outside the lecture hall and sign up to receive reams of useless information about us and what we do. Thank you for listening, and I hope to see you all at our open house, which we've conveniently scheduled at exactly the same time as all of the other open houses.
I don't think I've yet given any direct advice about law school to anyone reading this who's going to go to law school sometime in the future. Sure, there's all sorts of indirect advice and helpful incidental stuff you can pull from some of these entries, but I think this entry will be my first real piece of advice, and I'm totally serious about it. A week too late, but I really am totally serious.

First a story to lead up to the advice, then the advice. Don't skip ahead or you won't get the full impact.

So, for the past week, since classes started, I've been doing my work in my dorm room. Reading, outlining, whatever. And going insane. Because even though I'm making friends and I'm doing stuff, whenever I'm in my room I somehow feel like everyone else is out doing something interesting. Or even something uninteresting. But something. And intellectually I know that's not the case, but emotionally I felt like being in my room was swallowing my soul. Or something like that. So this afternoon I decided to read in the library. And after just a half hour, what a difference. I didn't get as much done, but just the fact that there were all these other people around -- just the fact that I wasn't all alone in my room -- made all the difference in the world. At least this afternoon it did. Hence, my advice. Get out of your room. Go to the library. You'll feel saner that way.
Watched a video in First Year Lawyering class today about research tools at the library. One source, according to the text superimposed on the screen, is "legal encyclopidias." Their spelling, not mine. If there's going to be one place in the universe where the word "encyclopedia" should be spelled correctly, shouldn't it be at Harvard's library?

Sunday, September 08, 2002

Overheard someone on his cell phone as I was walking through the law school campus:

"I'm really worried about Munich because I don't think the merger's gone through..."

Well, that sounds quite a bit more important than my last cell phone conversation, "...pepperoni, and a large cheesy bread." (Okay, okay, my last cell phone conversation wasn't really ordering a pizza. I haven't ordered a pizza on my cell phone ever I don't think, but it just sounded like the right punchline there, so I didn't want to let the joke fall by the wayside. I know I shouldn't start inventing anecdotes, but the main part is real, I swear. Okay, it's almost real -- I changed the name of the city so on the off chance this person I don't know has stumbled onto my weblog, I won't have revealed secret merger information that he may get annoyed at. But the rest is all true. Promise.)

I spent part of the day taking my class notes from the past week and separating the wheat from the chaff (is that a real phrase? At first I wanted to say separating the curds from the whey, but I don't know which of those you save and which you toss, so I won't go with that). That was just as much fun as it sounds.

Saturday, September 07, 2002

Last night I went to Rosh Hashana services at the Hillel here. (This was a rare occasion for me -- I'm a pretty nonobservant Jew -- but I figured it would be a good way to meet people.) The longest reform services ever. Over two hours long. At the end, they were talking about the next set of services, for Yom Kippur, the holiday we're supposed to fast. The rabbi kept saying "fast." "Before the fast," "after the fast," "breaking the fast." Every time he said "fast," I looked at my watch and thought, "this isn't Fast. It's excruciatingly slow. Stop reminding me by saying 'fast' every ten seconds."

There was some cool stuff about the service though -- it was led by Harvard undergrads and they had a pretty fantastic student cantor who was better than most real cantors I've seen singing at services (although my breadth of experience is admittedly limited). And I did meet a couple of people, so that was good.

I have a 2-page ungraded paper to write this weekend. "2-page ungraded paper" certainly makes it sound fairly meaningles, doesn't it? They should at least lie and say it's going to be graded, or posted for all to see, or something, anything, to make it feel like less of an exercise and more like a real assignment.

I get to try out the subway again today -- this time switching lines from Red to Green. Apparently the Green line is extra confusing. If I don't post anything tomorrow by noon, send out a search party for me -- I'm probably wandering around downtown Boston unable to find where the subway lines meet....

I get bored way too easily. I need to fix that before I start annoying the friends I'm making here with too many e-mails sounding too desperate about wanting to do something besides read about law. Of course, I also need to read about law. So I'm not sure where the balancing point it. Still looking for it.

Today's bowl of Crispix was especially satisfying with the fresh milk I bought yesterday. I'm really stretching for content now... must mean it's time to stop writing (and resume reading about law, and getting ready for my lunchtime subway adventure...).

Friday, September 06, 2002

Lunch today at the cafeteria. Got a bottle of Tropicana grapefruit juice. Opened it, took a sip. Tasted fine. Noticed the date on the bottle -- "Jan 19 02." Uh, that was 9 months ago. Freaked me out. Threw it away. I was wrong to go against the Nantucket Nectars monopoly I guess....

Thursday, September 05, 2002

Thursday and Friday are my easy days. One class, 11:35-1:10. Civil Procedure. It seems fairly inaccessible so far -- the history of the development of judicial procedure -- filing motions, collecting evidence, stuff like that. Necessary stuff for courtroom law, but not the kind of stuff on Law and Order. Or even on Court TV (actually, who knows... maybe there is a show on Court TV about civil procedure... I wouldn't know).

Wednesday, September 04, 2002

Top ten things I forgot to pack (I mean buy) and have figured out by now I probably need:

10. Pair of scissors
9. Calculator
8. Envelopes and stamps
7. Stapler
6. Wireless ethernet cards and hub :)
5. Compass (Or at least a better sense of direction...)
4. Laundry detergent, fabric softener, and dryer sheets
3. Automatic robot bed-maker, bathroom-cleaner and floor-vacuumer
2. Food
1. Grade inflator

Tuesday, September 03, 2002

First day of classes!

8:30 AM: Contracts. The professor walks in, and immediately starts asking questions and calling on people off her seating chart. Question! Bam! Question! Bam! Question! Bam! She was sharp, she was really sharp. She should teach a "how to keep students awake" seminar to undergraduate professors. Because no one was even thinking about anything besides contracts in that class. It was like being on a quiz show, sort of, with 80 other people and no one knowing when it was going to be his or her turn, or what the subject of the question was going to be. So it kept everyone, uh, on our toes. But no disasters. She got to probably 60 of the 80 people in the class with at least one question or another, and everyone's so concerned they'll be called on that no one remembers at the end who gave a good answer, who gave a bad answer, who did what. It all just blends into an hour and a half long adrenaline rush.

They should conduct kindergarten the same way:

Lights up on a kindergarten classroom. Maybe a dozen students all over the floor. No teacher yet. Students are drawing with crayons, playing with toys, whatever. A teacher walks on, a little overdressed for the occasion. She puts down her briefcase and pulls out some cards with big colored shapes on it. She holds up a card with a blue triangle and points to one girl. She talks fast. the kids don't.

TEACHER: Ms. Smith, what color is this?
(No response)
TEACHER: Ms. Smith -- Sally -- what color is this?
TEACHER: Can anyone help out Ms. Smith?
(One boy raises his hand)
TEACHER: Mr. Johnson.
TEACHER: What shade of blue?
TEACHER: You said blue. I said what shade of blue?
TEACHER: Dark blue. Okay. How do we know it's dark?
(No response)
TEACHER: Ms. Rogers.
TEACHER: How do we know it's dark?
BECKY ROGERS: Dark blue?
TEACHER: Yes, Mr. Johnson said that already. It's dark blue. How do we know?
BECKY ROGERS: It looks dark.
TEACHER: It LOOKS dark. Okay. How do you know?
TEACHER: How do you know it looks dark to me? Maybe it just looks dark to you. How do you know?
BECKY ROGERS: I have to go to the bathroom.
TEACHER: How do you know?
(Billy Johnson raises his hand)
TEACHER: Mr. Johnson.
BILLY JOHNSON: It's dripping out of her skirt.
TEACHER: Very good. A fact. Urine is dripping out of Ms. Rogers' skirt. OBjective, not SUBjective. Now what if it wasn't urine? What if it was realy apple juice? Mr. Sanchez?
JOEY SANCHEZ: People don't pee apple juice.
TEACHER: People don't pee apple juice. All people?
TEACHER: What about people you haven't met yet? How do you know they don't pee apple juice? What if some people did pee apple juice?
JOEY SANCHEZ: Then they could go where people are starving and give them something to drink.
TEACHER: Interesting. Now we're moving towards policy. From facts to policy. Very nice, Mr. Sanchez. But back to the issue at hand. Before Ms. Rogers peed on the floor, she said she knew this was dark blue because she saw it. Is that compelling evidence? What do you think, Ms. Jackson?
(SARA JACKSON shrugs her shoulders.)
TEACHER: Use your words, Ms. Jackson. Think back to the reading last night. Is that compelling evidence?
SARA JACKSON: See Spot run?
TEACHER: No, we'll get to The State v. Spot in tomorrow's class. Today we're focusing on the dark blue triangle. Anyone know how we can prove this triangle is really the color that Mr. Johnson and Ms. Rogers are insisting it is? Mr. Phillips, if you could put the dump truck down for a moment and join us?
DAVEY PHILLIPS: It's dark blue because we all think it's dark blue.
TEACHER: Cultural convention. Interesting. Now who can tell me about promissory estoppel and the interstate commerce clause?
(Fade to black...)

The professor also mentioned not too many people have ever written songs about contracts. I think I'm going to take that as a challenge. Check back tomorrow for that one....

Monday, September 02, 2002

I went on the subway -- I mean the "T" -- for the first time today. Unlike New York subways, it's relatively clean, spacious, and temperature-controlled. Unlike New York subways, no one was spilling food on fellow passengers, selling generic AA batteries, asking me to embrace the Lord, or making a big fuss over people leaning on the doors. Unlike New York subways, the stations were well-lit, equipped with clean benches, and had platforms wide enough to allow even the largest Bostonian to pass without almost falling onto the tracks. Unlike New York subways, the announcer clearly stated what the next stop was, the train did not stop for no apparent reason in the middle of the tunnels, and there was a security guard visible and awake. Like New York subways, I'd still rather walk.
My phone wasn't working even after I signed up for service, so I sent an e-mail to the company Harvard subcontracts with. I got an e-mail back this afternoon which reads:

"Jeremy, I am extremely sorry I gave you the wrong pbn number, please forgive my stupidity, thanks Chad"

I see Harvard only subcontracts with the best...

Sunday, September 01, 2002

I went to the Jewish bagel brunch today. Good bagels. Took some back with me. Because they're free. No stereotypes here.

Someone came over and asked if this was the Christian brunch. I thought he was kidding. He wasn't. He left.

I'm a little bit addicted to Bubble Tea. If you've never tried it, it's like iced tea with milk and balls of tapioca at the bottom which you suck up with a big straw. Yeah, that sounds pretty vile. But it's really good. It's about a 10 minute walk away. I've gone twice so far, once when I stumbled across the place when I was exploring, and then today as a little reading break. So twice isn't too bad. If it gets to be more than once or twice a week I'll seek professional help.

Speaking of the reading... it's not that bad... it's not the most thrilling stuff so far, but it's manageable. I'm trying to read for the whole week -- and especially since I have only one class on Thursday and one on Friday, so my week is very front-loaded anyway. Oddly enough, the Criminal Law reading is the least interesting of my subjects so far -- and you'd think that would be the most interesting.

On 60 Minutes, Andy Rooney did a thing about trains. He likes trains better than planes. He also still uses a typewriter.

I typed up my schedule onto a little sheet of paper so I know where I have to be at any given time. For whatever reason, Harvard's time slots aren't consistent across days. Monday and Tuesday have the same slots for classes, and Thursday and Friday have the same slots as each other (but different from Monday and Tuesday), and Wednesday's different from all of them. So I have classes that begin or end at the following times throughout the week: 8:30, 9:40, 10:00, 10:15, 11:10, 11:35, 11:55, 12:00, 12:30, 1:10, 1:20, 2:00, 2:50, 4:00, 4:20, and 6:00. See where this can get a little confusing?

I was inspired to write a song the other day. It's more introspective than funny, but if you're reading this far you're probably willing to indulge me. It's not so much about how I feel, but it's taking an idea that crossed my mind and expanding on it in song lyric form. E-mail me if you want the mp3. :)

"You're Still You"

No one knows you
No one can tell
No one knows you
No one knows you well
You can be anything you want to be
You can do anything you want to do
But before you know it
You're still you

Want to change it?
Well here's your chance
Want to change it?
Take a brand new stance?
Even though you try your best to make a change
In your heart there's really not a lot to do
Cause before you know it
You're still know

You say no, this time's different
Be the one who you dreamed you could be
This time is different
Live a life that you're longing to see
This time's different
You will do what you wish you could do
And you won't be you anymore
You won't be you

No one knows you
'Cept the reflection you see
No one knows you
Except you in your heart
You can try, try as hard as you can try
You can do all the things you want to do
But in the end
You're still you

And it's okay
Cause I like you for you

(end song)