God and Moses in Creationism Defined (A Play)

[Scene] Mount Sinai circa 1200 B.C.

God [in booming epochal voice]: MOSES!

Moses: Ahh! What!

God [ominously]: HAVE YOU BEEN MAKING FALSE IDOLS?

Moses [nervously hurried]: NO! What? No, of course not. God? Is that you? Where are you?

God [incredulously]: I am the bloody burning bush you ponce.

Moses [gears cranking, not comprehending]: Bloody. . . and . . . burning . . .. Ponce?

God: Oh, Jesus . . .

Moses: That's a good name.

God: . . . forget it. Turn around, see the fire. That's me.

Moses: Uh, O.K. Whatever you say, your highest holy burningness.

God [feigning annoyance at the superlative style]: Did you bring the tablets?

Moses: Yes, oh Great and Merci--

God: Good. Put them down, we won't need them for a while. Today, we are going to start at the beginning.

Moses: The beginning? Do we have enough time? I mean, that bush can't burn forever . . .

God [making whatever expression a burning bush can make to show that it is going to patiently wait for the realization that previous statement was idiotic]:

Moses: . . . uh God? You there?

God [flicking out a burning ember onto Moses' foot]:

Moses: Ow! I thought you were a merciful God!

God: Oh, just wait until I tell you about Job. [under breath] What I did to him is going to pale in comparison to what I do to you [returning to normal] I am eternal, all-powerful, omniscient, yada yada yada, the bush will burn for as long as I wish it.

Moses: What if I pissed on it?

God: Remember your foot? How would like that three feet higher and a hell of a lot hotter?

Moses: My apologies for my impudence my lord. So the beginning?

God: Alright, pay attention. This is pretty complicated. Do you know what gravity is?

Moses: Like degrees?

God: Um, are you referring to degrees of temperature?

Moses: Is that what you want me to be referring to?

God: Sort of, but not really. We are not quite there yet.

Moses: Then, no.

God: So what degrees are you referring to?

Moses: Um . . . gravity . . .[awkward silence] . . . like, um weightiness . . .

God: [excitedly] Yes, exactly. Like weight.

Moses [overly enthusiastic]: O.K.! [gives bush the thumbs up]

God: [dryly] You have no idea what I am getting at do you?

Moses: Sure I do. Gravity is like weight. The beginning is so very important and serious, so I should pay extra special attention.

God: No, no, no and no. But sort of yes, but more accurately, NO! Gravity is the force that holds you onto this earth. It is why things are heavy.

Moses: Aren't things heavy because they are big?

God: Not necessarily. Compare a rock with leaves balled up in the same size as the rock.

Moses: What's a leaves? Do you want me to go?

God: Argg. Fucking desert. Forget leaves. Compare a rock with balled up cloth. Same size. Different weights. But gravity pulls on both objects the same. Let me show you. Take off your frock and ball it up. . . . Good. Now pick up one of the tablets. . . . Nice work Moses, there may be hope for you yet. Now get up on that rock over there. Good. This is the tricky part. Hold out the frock in one hand and the tablet in other so they are at the same height. Good. Now, how much heavier would you say the tablet is than the frock.

Moses: Oh, about a third of a talent.

God: Good. So the tablet is much heavier than the frock. Because of this, you may think that the tablet should fall faster than the frock. But gravity exerts its force on all objects equally, so they will all fall at the same speed. Go ahead, drop them. They will hit the ground at the same time.

Moses: Uh, won't the tablet break? It is six cubits off the ground.

God: Do I have to give the all-powerful speech again? It won't break.

Moses: O.K. [drops objects. They hit the ground at roughly the same time] I think the tablet still hit first.

God: That is just air resistance. Next time we will use your head. Anyway, gravity is a force that is exerted from the very center of the Earth. At the center of the Earth is a huge mass that is tightly compacted. You know how when you pick up wet sand, you can crush it between your hands into your hands into a smaller denser ball?

Moses: Ayup.

God: Good. Now imagine all of the grains of sands across the Earth crushed into the same size ball.

Moses: [closes eyes. Sways back and forth] Hhhhmmmmmmm. I do not mean to offend you your eminence, but I do not understand how that is possible. I have been to Egypt, there is sand as far as the eye can see, yet you pile up all that sand, it is still much larger than the largest pyramids.

God: Yes, I know that it is hard to conceptualize, but I am trying to explain to you the power of gravity. It was gravity that created the Earth.

Moses: But, I thought you created it?

God: Yes, but only evanescently. You think I want to be a burning bush? I would much rather be a cougar, or a Tyrannosauruses Rex, that would scare the hell out of you, hell, I would rather be a camel. The world works according to certain rules that even I cannot change. One soul per body. I cannot push out the camel's soul for my own gleeful purposes. That is the essence of free will. [whimsically] But maybe, if I could have a son, a child, part me, with a tangible presence on the earth, carrying out my dreams, a messiah maybe . . . [trailing off]. But, that is a discussion for another day. I created the universe. I created physics. A nudge here, a nudge there is all it took once I figured out the math. Moses, I figured out how to get three atoms of oxygen to bond with each other.

Moses: Is atom like gravity?

God: Adam? We have not even finished the creation of Earth yet. Don't get ahead of me.

Moses: My deepest regrets at having offended you your illustriousness.

God: Don't do it again. The mass, at the center of earth is what exerts gravity. It is a force that goes off equally in every direction. And before you ask, the Earth is round. Just accept that as fact.

Moses: Round? Huh. I mean, interesting your um . . . godliness.

God: So this dense mass formed, and it pulled lots of other matter to it through gravity. So, you understand gravity now right Moses?

Moses: Yes sir.

God: Good. Because your understanding of gravity is essential to the rest of the story. Gravity is how all the stars were formed, how the sun was formed, the moon, and of course the Earth. You understand this yes?

Moses: Yes. Crystal Clear.

God: OK. Now, we have to go back to before the Earth was created. Before the Universe was created. In the beginning, there was just me. And I had a thimble. And inside the thimble was all the matter ever created.

Moses: Wow. So, if the Earth fit in the thimble, then how big are you?

God: NO! It was a thimble that is the same size as a thimble that you have. Just an ordinary thimble. Like the one Aaron "borrowed" from Miriam. Remember the sand analogy? Same thing, just more matter in a tiny space. The power of gravity. Is this making any sense?

Moses: It is your divine word. I heard sometimes you speak in riddles. I am slow of wit. I know the riddle about what is more beautiful than your face, but I am having trouble solving how you can fit the Earth inside a thimble. Unless it is a very large thimble of course.

God: Oh, Moses smell the roses. It is not a riddle. Follow this. All matter was in the thimble. I exploded the thimble. All matter spread throughout the universe as space dust and gas. Some dust and gases formed clouds. At the center of these clouds, the dust and gases came together to form hugely dense areas. Like the sand. As they got more dense, its gravity increased. At the center, the core pulled in gas, and eventually became the Sun. Further out, more dust came together to become the Earth. Now this all happened over millions of years. It is a very slow, and lonely, process. But, eventually, all that swirling dust formed the Earth as you see it now, thanks to it being the exact right distance from the Sun, among other things. Understand?

Moses: I thought dust was created by dead skin cells? Is that part of the riddle?

God: Damn you Moses! One more mistake out of you, no matter how trivial, and you are barred from entering the holy land. Seriously. [muttering] I knew I should have waited for the Greeks.

Moses [crying]: Oh Holiest of Gods, I mean the one and only true God, I mean, my Master, I am your humble servant, please do not smite me down as I bow before you, on my hands and knees, I beg of you, for I am fallible, I falter in front of your brilliance, for I am weak, unfit to hear your divine prose, I am but one man, and you are all men, I am not worthy to appear in your presence, please, for I will let my people go, you can find them a new shepard, but spare my life, for even now, I will express unworthiness by kissing your feet, placing my face in the fire, to kiss the base of this magnificent bush, and--

God: Get up Moses. Sheesh. Have some dignity. That was a just a test. Yeah, a test. Or, a riddle. No, just a test.

Moses: [still weeping, wiping snot from his nose] Did I pass?

God: Oh yeah, you passed. Passed with flying colors.

Moses: I learn at your feet, oh great one.

God: Sure you do. You learn. Close your eyes. . . . Here is the lesson. There is no truth but the truth as I give it to you. There is no meaning but the meaning I subscribe. Now listen and listen carefully. This is my truth to tell. Memorize it. Share it. Spread it. For this is how I created heaven and Earth. On the first day, I looked at what I had to work with. Not much. Water. Some firmament. I moved across the Earth taking stock. On the second--

Moses: I do not mean to interrupt your sacred narrative, but was this during the day or at night?

God: Oh yeah, forgot that part. On that first day, I said let there be light. That made night and day. Certainly it had nothing at all to do with the Earth's rotation's rotation around the Sun. So that first day, surveyed the Earth, made night and day, and took a nap. That second day, I separated the firmament and the Earth, to make Heaven and Earth. Oh, and I made the sky blue. Do you want to hear about diffuse sky radiation?

Moses: [quizzical uncomprehending look]

God: Okaay. I put some water in the sky and left some water on the earth. On the third day, I called the Earth the Earth and the water the Sea. But when you retell this Moses, try to make this day sound, oh I don't know, busier somehow.

Moses: Like, you planted grass that day too?

God: Sure, that works. Thanks Mose. The Fourth day I made seasons and dabbled more with night and day. Night was too dark, so I figure out a way to reflect light to make most nights not so dark. The next day I filled the seas with all the creatures therein and the land with animals that were the size of 250 men put together.

Moses: No way. That is unpossible. That animal would be, well larger than the pyramids!

God: Yeah, sure, that was another riddle. No giant animals. Just birds. So what day are we on here?

Moses: Fish and fowl were the fifth. Did you take Shabbos on the sixth?

God: No, that is the seventh day. I still had one more day of hard work left. On the sixth I uh, shit, did I make cows yet?

Moses: No your excellency.

God: I made cows on the sixth day, and a bunch of other animals that walk on the land. Then I made man and said, Man, all this is yours. Enjoy.

Moses: Wow, you truly are a great god. Created all of this in only six days. An amazing Earth that provides us with sustenance and a temperate climate and a night that lasts justs as long as I can sleep. It is mind-boggling how perfect you got it. But God, why are the Egyptians so evil to the Jews?

God: Oh, Moses. I made man in my image. I have free will. Man has free will. And now, I shall tell you what a God does with his free will . . .

[scene closes on Moses sitting cross-legged, staring intently into the burning bush, as the Sun slowly sets in the background]

[fade out]

Graduation and Other Things

I have conditionally graduated from law school. I still have one grade outstanding, but I sure as hell did not write a 43 page paper with the intention of getting an "F", so I think that I am permitted to put "Quasi-Dr." on my letterhead now.

Unfortunately, my utter laziness caught up with me this semester. The two exams I took were multiple choice which seriously inhibits my utilization of the one talent I can genuinely attribute to law school, bull-shitting. One exam was so hard, there is no point in discussing it. But I did well enough on it.

The other exam was easy, except for about 10 of the 70 or so questions. All those questions came from a class that I skipped. Being lazy, I did not bother to get anyone's notes for that class, figuring that a) there would only be three or four questions from that class and b) if push came to shove, I would survey the statute book during the exam and find the right answer.

So, I was wrong; on both counts. Some of the statutes necessary to determine the proper answer were not in the statute book (it was only state statutes, and some questions referenced federal statutes). I had the textbook with me, but that proved just as worthless. I suppose there was a reason that there was no assigned reading for that class. Conversely, some of the statutes that were needed were in the statute book. That helped, the annotations however did not. For all of the questions that had an answer contained in a statute I had access to, some of the annotations clearly contradicted the plain language of the statute. So, like a good lawyer, I looked at the most recent cases, the effective date of the statute, and what the statute really said. (Remember, this is while I am taking the exam). In quite a few cases, the statue and the annotations simply did not jive. Needing to make a decision on how to answer the question (already narrowed between two answers), I drew on my prior experience that annotations fucking suck. Numerous times I have seen annotations (at least for the states), fuck up the true holding of the court. So, I went with the language of the statute.

But who knows if that was right or wrong. I could have just as easily screwed up another part of the exam (I did skip about five classes, but most of the stuff was easy. This particular class was hard because there was no text/statute to help understand it). So I got a B+ on that exam. Even though I have known that grade for a week, I am still a little annoyed. At myself really (even though, I had to attend a mandatory function during the class in question). Should have tried harder. Should have gotten notes. Should haves are not going to help me now; now that the 4.01 dream is dead. For the first time ever in law school, my GPA is actually going to go down, regardless of the grade in the remaining class. Annoying; humbling.

Now, I am stuck in IL studying for the IL bar. It is in a good location. There is absolutely nothing out here to distract me, other than watching Cubs games everyday, though the mute button helps limit that distraction. I am spending about 8 hours a day studying (for the last two anyway), trying to study my way through the annoyance of my final law school semester. Or at least force my way through laziness. It is tough though, after reading black letter law for five hours, I lose the ability to focus my eyes. I figure this might be a bonus though, because with double vision I read everything twice. Win-Win.

Yeah, that is enough for now. Over under on the next post is 13 days. Place your bets.

Key to Getting an A

Don't let the timestamp at the bottom fool you. It is about 5:30 a.m. right now. In about three hours I will be taking my first final. I have had about a week to study for it, but did nothing of substance until a couple days ago.

Around 11:30 tonight (last night?) I was halfway through the final read through of my 103 page outline and realized that there was no way I was sleeping tonight without some help. Help comes in many forms. My desired sleeping aid is Tylenol PM. That was out because it takes at least two hours to kick in and knocks me out for about eight hours. Nyquil was also available, but anyone familiar with Denis Leary knows that a Nyquil coma does not relent to even the most fastidious of alarms. That left one alternative, Alcohol. Granted, drinking the night before an exam is never a good idea, but a couple of drinks to tire oneself out cannot hurt.

So I had a couple drinks. Got through the rest of my outline and went to bed. But bed did not take. My mind was racing, running through how all the damn articles of the UCC intersected with each other. Make no mistake, I was tired, but my mind does not bend to the will of my exhausted limbs and torso. After an hour visualizing the flow charts for forged indorsements and presentment warranties, I gave up. Granted, that was about 4:45 a.m. Even if I fell asleep when I wanted to, I was only look at an two hours (2 1/2 if I slept in) of sleep. At 4:45 it seemed reasonable that I would probably be sharper mentally without sleep that I would be with an hour and a half of sleep. After all, the 3.4 I got in undergrad was a direct result of taking exams upon 24 waking hours.

Of course, I am much older now (at least five years), but I refuse to bow down to the necessity of sleep. If marines can go 96 hours without sleep, I can make it 23. After all, I spent the last week getting at least 10 hours a night. I should be good, what with my coffee, and my soon to be run to the gas station for red bull and Five Hour Energy Drink, followed by a McDonalds bagel and coffee. I will probably piss every 30 minutes during the exam, but it is a small price to pay.

Oh and none of that is the key to getting an A. This is the trick. About 13 minutes before the exam is scheduled to start, I put on Flying At Tree Level 1.0 by Brand New. Then I listen to Jet Black New Year by Thursday. Those two songs get me properly amped to take an exam.

That is all.

Hoc-key?

This is the time of year where I write an essay telling everyone to watch the hockey playoffs. Usually it involves tens, if not fifteens, of youtube clips. Well, none of that this year. Except for a short essay of course. But sadly, it is not about the playoffs.

You may know that my team is the Blackhawks. And essentially, for the last nine years, or ever since I graduated from high school, the Hawks have slowly been killing my hockey soul. The team sucked, the ownership sucked, and basically everything about the Hawks was pathetic. Original Six to Original Shit (or something like that). I still paid attention even though I have spent seven of the last nine hockey seasons out of the state. I could not pick a new team. I am no sports bigamist.

This year though, things were different in Chicago. Ironically, it began with death. As a consumer and a fan who spent around 25 years devoted the Hawks, I am not sad that Bill Wirtz died. It is nice that he did charity work, took care of his former players (at least the guys that got paid jack shit in 60s and 70s), and was responsible for 1/3 of the alcohol imported into Illinois. Oh, and was a multi-billionaire. But he single-handedly destroyed hockey in Chicago. And, together with Jeremy Jacobs, is responsible for hockey moving from being America's fourth sport to a fringe sport.

And so it was that "Dollar Bill" was gone. Rocky Wirtz took his place. Toews became my favorite player, and along with Kane, are the best nineteen year olds in the league. This is new. This is huge. (And it bears mentioning that they have this guy named John McDonough running the show.)

We thought we had a foundation in the past. We remember Tyler Arnason, Mark Bell, and Kyle Calder, the ABC Line, that was going to lead the Hawks to the elusive promised land (Not the Stanley Cup, we just want to make the playoffs). That did not pan out. In truth, they were all only average, at best players. (check out their stats this year. Arnason, the best of the bunch had 31 points.)

But Toews and Kane. These guys are the real deal. They are own Crosby and Malkanin. OK, they are not that good, yet, but they are both the real deal. And Bill will not be around to run them out of town like he did to Roenick and Belfour. Toews and Kane make Chicago a destination for free agents again. Because, hey this is novel, Hawks home games will be televised. Attendance is up. I went to this game, and it was un-fucking-believable. The best one I have ever been to.

In short, for the first time since 1992-ish, Hockey is back in Chicago. And for the first time, I know that I will not be.

You see, this was going to be my divorce. A clean break. I would be a hockey widow, albeit for a short period of time, but unattached nonetheless.

The Washington Capitals, whose history is just about as disastrous as the Hawks, have this dude on their team named Alexander Ovechkin. And he is fucking good. Not Crosby good, but close. Very close. And he will likely be playing a 20 minute metro ride from where I live. Over the summer, the first week I was in DC, I went to a hockey Bar in Alexandria to watch a game of the Stanley Cup finals. And though the bar was small, hockey is alive and well in DC, even though the Caps missed the playoffs that year. This year they did not, but barely (do not let the three seed fool you, the got that because they won the divsion, and in reality, were only 3 points better than the Hawks).

Had I made the conversion then, it would have been understandable. If I declared in May '07 that I renounced my Hawk Fandom and moved on to the Caps, you all would have understood. But now, I cannot do that. Hell, after Dollar Bill died, I probably would have shifted back to the Hawks anyway.

But still, it is decisions like this that can shape the rest of our life. Slightly at least. I will probably still go several Caps games, they will be my back up team when in ten years this Hawk thing gives me an ulcer and probably colon cancer. But until then, I will just have to make sure that the Hawks are not playing on WGN that night.

Not to Sound Like A Dick, But . . .

One of my fellow classmates asked me if I was going to graduate with a 4.0. I told him that I was not sure. As of right now, my GPA is a shade below a 4.0. My school, in its infinite wisdom, gives a slighter higher points rating for an A+, which, at least in the abstract, makes achieving higher than a 4.0 a possibility. If I like anything, I like projects. Especially projects that really mean nothing. So I set about determining if I could achieve a 4.0.

Doing this required my first furlough into my previous grades. Do not get me wrong, I eagerly anticipate getting my grades, but once I get it, I forget about it and move onto other things. I have a very micro view of grades. This project, which really only took about ten minutes, was my first foray into a macro view of my grades. And what I learned was startling.

I have spent the last four semesters making up for my first semester. In each of the last four, I have had a GPA equal to or greater than 4. But my first semester, while good (probably excellent for most), put me in a position of fighting an uphill battle for the rest of my 2.5 years in law school.

But, I am happy to report, that I can achieve a 4.0, and possibly higher. Granted to accomplish this, I need at least one A+, and two A's. A tough accomplishment when you look at it like that. I am not too worried about getting A's, but getting the A+ is going to require some extra work. I mean, last semester, I had two graded classes, did nothing but show up most of the time to class, studied my ass off for two days for each exam, and got an A in each.

But seeing that a potential 4.01 or 4.02 is within reach, it almost makes me giddy. Almost because I do not know if I can get myself into that kind of study mode again. [At least in law school, all bets are off for the bar].

When I came to law school, and the succeeding two years, the goals were simple. Get the best grades, get the best job. Well, I got 1A down, and though it is arguable if I got 1B, it does not really matter anymore. I have a job. I just have to graduate. I could get D's in my remaining classes, and still graduate with a GPA over 3.5. I still get my degree. I still start working when the summer ends.

The motivation I once felt is completely gone. Right now I am in this quasi really want to be done with school, really do not want to be done at all state. It was the same thing when I graduated from Undergrad,* only now more pronounced. Because I know that working full-time sucks, paying rent sucks, paying car insurance sucks. Basically growing up sucks. When is the next testing date for the MCAT?

So lazy me wants to dick around, and not give a shit, while studious me wants to get perfection. And when put like that, even lazy me sits up and takes notice. That lead me to do something I have never done before. I put all my CALI Awards up on the wall, right above my bed. Getting those awards actually felt good, considering the work I put into getting them. They are up just to remind me that, yeah, you put forth the effort, you can get what you desire (sort of, Elisha Cuthbert still is not answering my e-mails).

Well, that, and it is a reminder of what I gave up to get them. Considering it is a Friday night and I am not going anywhere. At the least, my GPA will represent the fact that, yeah, I was here the last three years.


*It is funny how big a deal people make about getting a 4.0 in undergrad. If I had put forth half of the effort in Undergrad that I did in Law School, I easily could have had a 4.0. Live and Learn right.

What the hell, another link

None of you listened to me back when I told you to watch Arrested Development. Well, you now have the opportunity to kick yourselves for not watching on your own time. Every episode, free (with the exception of about 45 seconds of commercials), streaming on your computer, for, did I mention, free, whenever you want. On Hulu.

Whoa!? What The?

This made me do a double take.

The guys at KSK did a book draft (it is a long offseason), and the fourth pick made me rub my eyeballs to make sure they were working.

Will Leitch, the editor of deadspin, picked fourth and chose The Long Walk. I have read that book so many times, I practically have it memorized. It was shocking to see it show up there. It is not like it is a classic of American literature or anything.

[I will now go back to finish reading that post].

99 Years of Futility

ESPN has chronicled the last 99 years of the Cubs and why they could not win. It is way too depressing for me to read, so some one please send me the cliff notes.

[f.y.i. CUBS SUCK!!!!!!!!!!!!!!1111111111111!!!!!!!!! rofl!!1111!!!!!! lmao!!!!1111!!!!! is not accetable]

Oh, and for the two (one?) person that still checks this blog, I highly, highly recommend the Tucker Max, "Hey. I am making movie" blog. It is fantastic.

Ahhh, the memories of youth

My memory is some what shitty. I think back to high school, and I really cannot remember much of it. I draw upon my high school hockey memory bank and the only things I remember are the times I utterly embarrassed myself (it was only twice, I swear), or did something halfway decent (e.g. my first goal, and . . . uhhh, there was uh, that time I got a penalty for kicking some kid's stick into the neutral zone (total bullshit by the way)).

Going back further is even more fruitless. Maybe not. I just surprised myself by remembering the names of my K-5 teachers. But with the exception of the time we went to the Mall to show the community how we learned in fifth grade (oh and the time I failed a math quiz because I was so ingrained with the subtraction process that I could not do 15-7 without crossing out the one and carrying it over, even though it resulted in a mirror image of the question. . . live and learn you know) elementary school is a blur. We could try talking about college, but as my IL bar app. proved, I could not even remember which professors taught which class.

Hell, I cannot even remember what I had for lunch two days ago. I could probably make an educated guess based on the food in my pantry, but by no means would I make a wager on it.

So then, the other day, one of my friends had a picture appear on one of those social networking sites. It was a picture of him and President Clinton shaking hands. And in the deep recesses of memory, I pulled out a nugget of knowledge that had long been dormant.

Back in Clinton's first term, when I was about 13 years old, I began to have these things called hormones raging through my body. I eventually learned that the only to prevent myself from walking around with an erection all day was to make it spit every now and then. As luck would have it, my father also had a Playboy subscription at the time and chose to store his Playboy's in his chest of drawers. As was my wont at the time, I would occasionally borrow the magazine and take care of business; generally between the hours of 3 and 5, when I was home but my folks were not. Ahhh, I have fond memories of Drew Barrymore's pictorial (link is wikipedia proof, not actually pictures).

But at some point during this time frame of stealthily pilfering my pop's mags, I would get bored and read the articles. And one of these Playboy's was a few pages on the year in sex (1994? I would guess that, it was probably in the same issue as Drew's pictorial. Needless to say, that was my favorite one). Included among Anna Nicole marrying that old oil guy and Elle Macpherson doing something fucking hot and the cast of Seinfeld in bed with the sheets pulled up to their necks was an innocuous photo of President Clinton shaking hands with some dame. Included was the quote (as near as I can remember) "Shaking hands with the President is a full body sexual experience."

So when I saw my friend shaking the hand of Mr. Clinton, the memory of that singular passage came back, I immediately Googled it, found a reference, and laid a solid gold comment on the picture.

Then I got to thinking about this. I read that 13 years ago. Right now, I am really trying to remember what I did last week, and am mostly shooting blanks.

Memory is a funny thing. But I am confident when there is something that I need to know at one particular moment of my existence, I will be able to recall it. That has to be why I do so well on exams, yet constantly forget to call people back.

OCD Much?

A couple days ago, my roommate gave a burned DVD with two movies and 500 songs, which are purporting to be the 500 top rock n roll songs of all time. I watched the movies (Across The Universe, which is fucking awesome, and No Country for Old Men, which is fucking awesome until it ends--sorry, I am not an arteest, I want fucking closure, but the Sports Guy wrote about the annoying ending, so go find that if you wish), and decided to check out the 500 greatest rock songs of all time.

So at first glance, the 500 top rock n roll songs seem all good. There is 36 Beatles song (about 6 of which I did not already have), a bunch of Stones (I am not a Stones fan, but I can Jump that Jack Flash with the best of them), almost as much The Who (who are better than the Stones in my Opinion), and a ton of Led Zepplin (eh, good but whatever). Clearly though, the Beatles come out ahead, especially when you add the George Harrison, John Lennon, and Paul McCartney songs (totals 45; that is 9% of the greatest rock songs ever written by three guys (sorry Ringo)).

My only problem with the list is that Heart appears three times. Why does this bother me? Because it clearly means that Nirvana, Pearl Jam, and the two other great bands from the 90s are no where to be found (U2 makes two appearances, with Sunday Bloody Sunday and New Years Day). So, I am quite positive that this list must have been composed around 1985 (R.E.M. is absent also). Which is fine with me. Hell, I need to build up my classic rock library. I love Elton John (not in that way), and I suddenly went from zero Elton John songs to 11. That is a whole record!*

But anyways, after I finished throwing shit around my room at 2 a.m. because the ending of No Country for Old Men pissed me off to no end, I decided to add these 500 songs to my iTunes library. That was easy enough, until it turned out that the artist was listed as "Various Artist" and the track numbers were non-existent. This is unacceptable. So I just spent the last three hours meticulously typing in the proper song and artist names as well as the proper track number out of 500. Once I got to track #50, I wanted to stop, but realistically, there is no way I could. No way I would be able to sleep knowing that there were 450 dangling orphans out there. Fuck you crazy mental idiosyncrasies.

Anyway, I will probably still post sporadically, when there is something on my mind. But I could really give two shits about law school. I just want it to be over. And I want the bar to be over. And I want it to be the two months of nothing I have between the bar and the day I start my first ever real full-time job. Course, that time will go by fast, but still--I will take laziness to new heights those two months. They will write books about me.

But, I took down all of my previous posts because at this point, there are things I do not want an internet record of, and instead of reading all 200 entries (or whatever it was) it was easier to take them all down. I still have them, and may post them in, oh, let's say December, but no guarantees. Until then, I will try to be more guarded about what I write.

And in keeping with that tune, I have never been diagnosed with any mental health disorder. The whole OCD subject line is just a joke or something or other.

*Also of note--One Beach Boys song. Bull shit. I am not a huge Beach Boys fan, but that is a slight and a half. Additionally, the list seems to forget the roots of Rock n Roll. I am not an Elvis fan, but come on. And I was so pissed that Buddy Holly did not make an appearance on this list that I used one of my iTunes gift card X-mas gifts to purchase some Buddy Holly album from iTunes (it had 26 songs, not a bad deal).

and then nothing turned itself inside out

My Odd Fetish?

I think I must have a thing for bricks. I had to drive to down to my undergrad town this morning to obtain some essential documents for my bar application. As I was driving through town to the parking garage (that was not there when I actually went to school there), I noticed an odd thing. The entire street through downtown is not paved. Rather it is laden with bricks. And given the icy and snowy conditions striking the midwest this week, driving on brick is quite undesirable.

Then I realized that my neighborhood where I live at law school is also full of brick streets. Sure, it is a nice throwback, but the uneven pavement that fucks up my suspension and causes my car to scrape brick is decidedly unfavorable. So I had to ask myself, why do I surround myself with brick streets when I know they suck? Do I have some sort of brick fetish? I have nothing against bricks. I am ambivalent towards bricks. But I never really looked at a brick that way, you know? Think about it; a nice rectangular shape. Fits into places. Makes building easy. Maybe I could see myself in bed with one.

OK, definitely not. I cannot help that cheap rents follow brick streets. But I got my the final documents I needed for my bar today. I was able to obtain my final undergrad professor recommendation yesterday (after much more work than should have been necessary (at least for lazy people like me)). And I am $712 poorer thanks to the egregiously large IL Bar filing fee. But I have jumped through the first hurdle. I recalled all of my prior bad acts, found two professors who would tell the Bar that I got a "B" in their classes, and managed to manipulate six people into being character references. Not bad for a days work.

But here is the thing. You look at anyone's life under the microscope and you will be disappointed. The only way we learn is to make mistakes. Everyone fucks up, and they want us to get all paranoid that a couple of fuck-ups in teh past my screw up my entire life. I am not talking now to the people who never been arrested or had a speeding ticket, but you all should know, that when someone is too perfect, you can tear them down too. I think the bar application is more about self-awareness.

I have never been convicted of a felony, but I have two major misdemeanors and a couple speeding tickets on my record. On top of that, I was disciplined by my undergrad for telling a cop I was 21 when only 19 when he caught me with a beer. This resulted in my undergrad charging my with a dishonesty violation. Had I been to law school before this happened, and if the school was required by the 14th to give me due process, I would know that I have a right to lie to that cop. Sure, lying to a cop is not the best idea, but the fifth amendment is premised on the fact that we are allowed to lie to cops.

A couple years ago I got a public intoxication. See, I had learned my lesson. That lesson was, Do not lie to cops. So, I told the cop the truth. I was on a porch and quite drunk. The cop wanted to give me and the others on the porch a public intox. I explained, as calmly as I could, why the cop could not give me a public intox. I was on a fucking porch. There is a zone around the home that is considered to be the home. We call it curtilage. The cop did not appreciate my reasoned, though slurred, exposition of the law, put me in the back of the cop car and later gave me a ticket.

What did the other law students on the porch do? Nothing. At least I fought tyranny. And the sad end to this parable is that I ended up paying the goddamn ticket because it was only $80 and would have been a major inconvenience for me to show up to court (cost benefit analysis), and everyone else got the charges dismissed. Why? Because they were on a fucking porch.

This is what I have learned as a lawyer. There is always a story. Rarely is anything the same. In appellate eyes they are the same, but at the human level, there are no set of circumstances that are the same. All the red marks on my bar app have a rational explanation, and I only wish the opportunity to be heard. I only hope that my interviewers listen to me on the human level rather than the disinterested final disposition level.

Anyway, I filed my IL character and fitness application today. I am officially registered to take the IL bar. I cut it about as close as possible, tendering my documents to an overnight carrier at about 3:30 p.m. today. Thank god. one less thing on my mind.

But to be safe, as a cheesy as it sounds, I think I am going to walk into my character interview and play The Reason by Hoobastank for the attorneys (them being the persons the song is directed towards):

I'm not a perfect person
As many things I wish I didn't do
But I continue learning
I never meant to do those things to you
And so I have to say before I go
That I just want you to know

I've found a reason for me
To change who I used to be
A reason to start over new
and the reason is you

In Which I Use Sharp Objects to Lacerate My Eyeballs and Pierce My Eardrums

I am going to lock my roommates out of the house until I get some answers. I do not care that this is finals week. This transcends the importance of finals. I need answers, and I need answers now. Seriously, you think you know someone, and then this happens.

How can anyone possibly explain owning a Wham! cassette tape? And not just owning it, but leaving it out in the open for other people to see? I am aware that my roommates have terrible taste in music, but this is inexcusable.

Heads are going to roll for this.

Illinois Bar

Over the last couple of days, I finally decided that I am going to take the IL bar exam. It is a good plan, take out the 15 grand bar loan, live in DeKalb, which is about 45 minutes from my parents house, save over half that money, because it is a farm town with nothing in it other than one of my favorite bars (Otto's), and attend BarBri classes at NIU.

I have never been worried about passing the bar; I know that I am going to spend two months doing nothing but studying, becoming paranoid, and freaking out on a daily basis. But at the end of the day, I am confident that I will pass.

No, my concern has always been with the character and fitness portion. However, I never expected it to be with getting the requisite references for the character and fitness portion. I examined the IL bar app. last night, and apparently, one needs two undergrad professors as references.

This, to say the least, is going to be a huge problem for me. Huge in the way that I am rethinking the idea of taking the IL bar.* In four years of undergrad, the only time I ever talked to a professor was when he or she called on me. Much like my law school career, I never visited office hours, never engaged a professor outside of class, and never even joined a club (whether or not there was a faculty advisor).

I think that the reference is only for an objective inquiry into ones intelligence, an inquiry which is probably not generally necessary, but given my, ahem, colorful past, I think that the character reviewers may be interested in more information.

I am at a loss as to what to do. Not many people from my school are taking the IL bar, and those that are are nerds, so they know people. If anyone out there has any thoughts on how to jump this hurdle, I would appreciate it. Additionally, what the hell is a non-traditional law student supposed to do, the one who is 40 years old and all his professors from undergrad are probably dead. This fucking requirement has thrown me for a fucking loop.

My plan, for lack of anything better, is to start sending out letters to the four professors that I actually remember having, and hope that they take pity on me, and not necessarily remember that I was the kid who got an A in their class six years ago while looking incredibly bored. I hope that I have a good chance, assuming I can butter the Prof. up. My top choices are my business law prof. (you are the reason I went to law school!), and an accounting prof. (I am going to do Tax!), and convince them that all of my career decisions were all thanks to them and had nothing to do with the opportunities that actually presented themselves.

God this fucking sucks. I also need six references. If I knew six people, I would probably have a better job and not be a fucking tax lawyer.

__________
*MD, for instance, requires five references, none of whom are married to each other (killer for me, my best friends from college married each other), that you have known for five years (another killer, most people who have known me for four years choose not to know me anymore).

My sister is getting married soon. To a Bears fan. As such, this is their wedding present from me. To put in their garage. Right in front of where he parks every night.

I am not sure if that answers this inquiry though.