I haven’t slept well since school started. It takes me a while to fall asleep and I tend to wake up in the middle of the night. The gears in my head are still spinning trying to process all the new information – both scholastic and otherwise – that my brain is receiving. I’ve basically been running on overdrive for a month and I can’t do it anymore. So I’m making two conscious decisions:

1. I will resume two activities important to me that I quit when school started: reading and working out. [I know I mentioned the working out thing a while ago, but I mean it this time. Really.]
2. I’m going to slow down. I always feel like I need to be rushing off to somewhere. No more. The rushing stops here and now.

The book I started isn’t actually a book; it’s a play, and a damn funny one at that. It’s Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf by Edward Albee. I started reading it this morning on the light rail on the way to school and I found myself chuckling out loud. The rubbing alcohol bit had me rolling. Seriously, you need to pick this play up. It’s a riot.

Jon Pareles of the NY Times put together an excellent list of resources for free, legit, digital music on the Internet...

On Friday night at a pub, I struck up a conversation with my classmate Matt about the music scene in Houston, punk bands, indie bands, emo bands, and all kinds of other hipster topics. Originally from Phoenix and having just gotten out of the radio industry, he rattled off band after band that I had never heard of or heard of but never heard [got that?]. So he promised he’d make an mp3 cd. Boy, was that a cd. Check out the bands he included [those in bold are new to me]:

Jawbreaker
Bouncing Souls
Tiger Army
Flogging Molly
Fugazi
Gavin DeGraw
Jason Mraz
JET
Jets to Brazil
Nerf Herder
Paloalto
Screeching Weasel
Texas Is The Reason
The Nation of Ulysses
The Refreshments
Yellowcard

So yeah, that’s a lot of music. I have my work before me. There goes my weekend.

and it's really, really funny.

"...wouldn't something have to be fangled before it was newfangled? (Yes, I said this aloud. Fangled. Say it with me. It's fun.) (I mean, come on, like you've never wondered about fangling yourself. It's like being renowned...first there's the painful nowning process.)"

Law Students Buy Their Way Out of Learning, Get Prepared For Real Life

Every year, my school runs a canned food drive for the Houston Food Bank, and, every year, my school is the largest single donator in the city. So how do the professors motivate us to donate cans / money for cans (as if feeding the hungry wasn’t enough)? Why, they promise to give us freebies on the final, of course.

There’s a certain part of my school’s building that instantly renders me unproductive. It’s the lounge on the bottom floor situated at the corner of the building that looks out onto a busy downtown intersection; all that separates the pedestrians on the outside from the giddy and exhausted law students on the inside is a wall of glass. It makes phenomenal people-watching. Not exactly airport-level people-watching, but close.

Also, when I’m in the lounge and the sun is shining and I’m looking out, I feel like I’m in a fishbowl. At night, the beams separating the glass make the room feel like a Rubik’s Cube. I like the fishbowl feeling better.

What can I say, I’m a Donnas fan. Girls in bands make me weak. But not just any girls. Girls that write fun and catchy punk tunes with a soft spot for pop and 70s rock (KISS, et al).

I’ve seen the Donnas three times – each show at Emo’s in Austin. The first was definitely the most memorable. The place was packed (as usual, for The Donnas) and I managed to squeeze my way up front. Sometime during the end of the set, I lost my glasses to the pogoing mass of hormonal high-schoolers and inebriated college students. I stopped hopping for a minute to try to find my glasses but to no avail. The drive home would be interesting.

After the show, I poked around the crowd space looking for the remains of my metal spectacles and found the frames [bent to hell] and one lens [scratched to oblivion]. Annoyed and bleary eyed, I began my exit out of the club and realized I was walking toward The Donnas’ drummer, Torry Castellano, so I smiled and tried my best to catch her eyes even though I really couldn’t see anything more than 10 feet away. As she approached, I was just barely able to make out her smile, and our eyes met for a split second.

And then the huge tattooed guy with “STAFF” on his shirt walked up from behind me and carried her off. Ok, I don’t think that happened, but it might have. Either way, that smile has stuck with me for these four years…

Most of my classes pose all kinds of questions. Criminal Law, as you can imagine, is basically a large-scale debate between 80 or so people. Questions with no clear answers fly back and forth throughout the class. Hilarity normally ensues.

Contracts, on the other hand, is not quite as exciting a class. It’s not that the material is less exciting (I actually like reading the cases – they read like mini-sitcoms) but that there are only two questions we ever need to ask:

1. Was there a contract between the two parties?
2. Was there a breach of the contract?

And that’s it. No muss, no fuss. Of course, a lot may go into those two questions, but after a while, you kind of get the hang of how to get your answer quickly. There’s also this thing called the Uniform Commercial Code which pretty much tells you the rules for contracts.

I now have a feeling that because I’ve posted this, the exam will be bitch and I’m going to do horribly. Or I’m going to get called on tomorrow and give all the wrong answers. Such is life.

sore throat. fever. cold sweats. coughing up strange substances. yes, it appears i've caught a bug of some sort. i skipped class today only to get text messaged and called by my good friends in class wondering what the hell had gotten into me. skip class? impossible! overruled! denied!

i'm actually kind of bummed i didn't get to go to class today... Criminal Law is always a riot because the teacher gets all excited all of sudden and then declaims in this Seinfeld-ish voice, "Do you understaaaand? That's a good answer - very sophisticated. But it's wrong." And my Contracts teacher paces the stage asking herself [us, really], "Is it a contract? why not? is that so? what do you think? hmm, ok, why? anybody else? are you sure? but why? was there acceptance? what kind of acceptance was it?..."

i think i've actually come to like law school. something must be wrong with me. besides the fever, that is.

Some of you may have noticed there was something whack with the Comments. Creating links in your comments was ok until you tried putting spaces in the text. Then the whole thing broke. Well, Aaron was kind enough to spend a portion of his day combing through the code I wrote in a beer and fajita-induced haze to determine that I needed to omit exactly two lines of code. Yes folks, you can now create links to your heart’s content – and they can even have spaces.

Rejoice! Frolic! Vote Kerry!

There’s nothing quite like rewarding oneself with a tall glass o’ brew after hours and hours of summarizing Torts cases and figuring out how to write case citations. Fittingly, the first beer the new bottle opener opened was a Loft. Oh yeah. Memories, memories.

At the terrace party on the top floor of the library.
Scenario: there is a keg and a bunch of complimentary hot dogs provided by a local hot dog establishment. Students are milling about, eating, and drinking beer in plastic cups. A friend and I are eyeing the hot dogs.

Me: Excuse me, are these turkey or pork hot dogs? [note: I don’t eat pork.] Hot Dog guy 1: Uh... Hot Dog guy 2: Pork, Chicken, and Beef. Me: [internal dialogue: yikes. which parts of which?] ok, thanks. Friend: I’m not sure I want one anymore. Me: Dude, seriously.

Friend: This tastes funny. Me: [pointing to corner of room] There’s the trash can.

I went to the doctor this morning and found out all I had was a viral infection, so the doc prescribed some strong decongestants, nose spray, and told me to stick to the Tylenol. When I got to school soon after, my friend promptly remarked, “Dude, what are you doing here, go home, you look terrible.”

I smiled and nodded: “Yeah.”

I wish I could record the sound of my dishwasher and play it for you. Running the dishwasher normally requires considerable planning and preparation. I have to make sure it’s sufficiently full to warrant its use and I have to make sure I’m NOT AT HOME because it sounds like a DIESEL TRUCK. I had James Brown playing on the stereo and not even he could overcome the racket that is my GE appliance.

All hail The Mighty Dishwasher. It will humble you into buying earplugs.

rebecca's recent post reminded me of something: i got a new toy:

ain't it sexy? 1.6 centrino, internal wi-fi, 40GB, 512MB, CD-RW/DVD, 13.3" super sharp screen, all in under 4 pounds. my parents are the proud new owners of a 10-pound Dell Inspiron behemoth. thank you, parents, for taking that thing off my hands. they also got a handy wireless router and wireless card for the behemoth.

My friend Sophia’s little brother is a whopping seven years old. Don’t let his age fool you, though. He’s right on track to being a first class smartass. Case in point:

When my mother told him not to touch something, he said, "But I live here too, and I'm ultimately going to inherit all of this anyway."

He told me, "I really don't want to get married, but I'm going to because I want our last name to carry through the generations."

But something tells me it’s in his genes. Sophia describes a typical morning at home:

Walk in on your mom playing the stock market and badmouthing various companies in Bengali. It occurs to you that the only other times you hear those words anymore are when she's talking to her sister about the evil bitch who lives in Australia who claims to be your cousin. This small fact warms the cockles of your petty heart, and you make tea with gusto.

the presidential race and and gynecology. together again. [via rebecca.]

or, how to turn your roommate's room into a tin foil wonderland on their birthday.

SPAM is evil. Diabolical. Wicked. But did I ever expect to find it in law school? A-ha, before you [I] answer that, read the below introduction from a case I recently read for class:

This case presents novel issues regarding the commercial use of the Internet, specifically the right of an online computer service to prevent a commercial enterprise from sending unsolicited electronic mail advertising to its subscribers.

Eh, better read the rest first. This case, folks, is one that will make you happy.

Here’s what went down.

Cyber Promotions, the alleged spammer, sent mass emails to the clients of CompuServe, an ISP. Not only that, but they also used CompuServe’s systems to send the email. CompuServe’s servers were taxed, their employees were working to block or redirect the spam, and the clients were pissed [each of those elements is important - equipment usage, employee time ($), client dissatisfaction). So CompuServe sent letters to Cyber Promotions requesting they cease and desist. Cyber Promotion did no such thing. They altered their tactics to circumnavigate the preventive measures CompuServe put in place and increased the spamming. They spoofed the headers and From address so CompuServe’s system couldn’t catch the emails. Smart, but not smart enough.

Cyber Promotions was clearly spamming CompuServe’s clients with full knowledge that CompuServe did not approve of the spamming and that they were using CompuServe‘s equipment. That’s not cool.

Legally speaking, this comes out to a trespass; specifically, trespass to chattels (moveable things). Cyber Promotions was ‘trespassing’ on CompuServe’s ‘things’ without permission. But can you trespass electronically? This case has its beginnings in the long and far away time of 1996, so this was a new concept. The answer was yes, electronic trespass can be trespass to chattels.

The elements of trespass to chattels are defined as follows:

One who commits a trespass to a chattel is subject to liability to the possessor of the chattel if, but only if,
(a) he dispossessed the other of the chattel, or
(b) the chattel is impaired as to its condition, quality, or value, or
(c) the possessor is deprived of the use of the chattel for a substantial time, or
(d) bodily harm is caused to the possessor, or harm is caused to some person or thing in which the possessor has a legally protected interest.

And that part about “legally protected interests?” That’s where the angry clients come into play. They were CompuServe’s business interests and they were harmed. What the judge’s opinion did not mention, however, and which I think is relevant, is the employee time spent trying to fight off the spam. CompuServe’s developers spent their time trying to write code to automatically detect and delete the spam before it got to the clients. This is money going out the window. Cyber Promotions essentially took CompuServe’s money.

The Judge’s opinion ends with:

Based on the foregoing, plaintiff's motion for a preliminary injunction is GRANTED. The temporary restraining order filed on October 24, 1996 by this Court is hereby extended in duration until final judgment is entered in this case. Further, defendants Cyber Promotions, Inc. and its president Sanford Wallace are enjoined from sending any unsolicited advertisements to any electronic mail address maintained by plaintiff CompuServe during the pendency of this action.

I feel compelled to put something new up here but strangely have nothing of substance to say (do I ever?) I spent many hours today in a coffee shop doing homework and continued to spend many hours at home. The best part is that I still didn’t get everything done that I wanted to. You should not end sentences with a preposition. Gershwin's Rhapsody In Blue is playing on the stereo. I think I’ll have another beer.

addendum, five minutes later: behold the power of the male bartender.

I don’t think this needs any explanation…

UNITED STATES [on behalf of] Gerald MAYO v. SATAN AND HIS STAFF

This next one was most eloquently written by a New York judge.

CORDAS et al. v. PEERLESS TRANSP. CO. et al.

An excerpt:

"It appears that a man, whose identity it would be indelicate to divulge was feloniously relieved of his portable goods by two nondescript highwaymen in an alley near 26th Street and Third Avenue, Manhattan; they induced him to relinquish his possessions by a strong argument ad hominem couched in the convincing cant of the criminal and pressed at the point of a most persuasive pistol."

It’s been a while since I’ve done any drinking so I went out last night and met up with a bunch of school friends. My buddy Paul drove so I started drinking rather quickly. Probably too quickly. I think I had about five pints of Harp, three of Pilsner Urquell, and two of Real Ale. Yes, I was smashed and yes, I wish I didn’t drink that much. My old glory days are obviously long gone. [Old glory days being back when I had a job two months ago and lived across the street from a pub.]

Of course I woke up this morning feeling like a train wreck. Ugh. A classmate is having a house party tonight but I don’t think I’ll be able to handle it. I need to start chugging water if I’m going to make it out of the apartment at all today.

Ugh.

Oh yeah, and Sophia also drank too much and enountered a smack-talking cat. It could happen to you.

alison, of bluishorange fame, posted some pictures from her trip to Ecuador. you should look at them.

I’m a relatively clean guy. My room is organized, clothes are never on the floor, books and cds actually reside on a shelf someplace, so on and so forth. I even have a hanging file crate for various papers and documents. I was not a good kitchen person for a while in college (apologies, ex-roommates) but I have gotten much better over time.

I say all this because ants have managed to find their way into my apartment – specifically, they bite my feet as I sit at my desk and study. No, they’re not in the pantry where I have a whole two-pound bag of pure cane sugar. They’re crawling around the carpet under my desk. It’s really annoying and I can’t find their location of emergence. It’s not like there’s a stream of angry, foot-craving ants marching forth to my foot. Every 20 or 30 minutes, I’ll feel a tingle between my toes and then some pain; I curse (every time), examine my foot, and find a puny-looking ant running for dear life. Bastard. You picked the wrong foot.

I’m afraid of setting an ant-bait as it may just attract more ants to this vicinity. I don’t want them to think the space under my desk is a great place to find something to bite. Then again, it’s not like they get the chance to go back to home base and report what they found. “Ooh, guess what I found! A foot!” I think not.

Why the hell are they biting me, anyway? Is my foot threatening? Smelly? I’m a sandal guy, so I don’t have to worry about socks and foot sweat. I don’t get it.

sam brown of exploding dog fame drew the picture of how i felt today.

I didn’t think about law school for approximately six hours yesterday. It was freaking great. Instead, I went to an Astros game and David Garza show at The Continental Club. My classmate happened to inherit four amazing seats his dad could not use, so he invited me and two other classmates. I’ve never been much of a baseball fan, but I am now. Man, that was some good times.

The David Garza show was something of a snap decision. I’m still getting over this virus/congestion thing and didn’t think a smoky club would be a good idea. At 10:30, I decided to head over and check the place out. Lo and behold, it wasn’t all that smoky so I stuck around. David and Co. took the stage at 11:30 and delivered over an hour’s worth of new and old songs. As usual, in the middle of the set, he took a few requests and I called out for my favorite, “Slave.” He didn’t respond. Then, a few songs later, he hit the opening chords and I knew I was in luck. Funniest moment: he kept calling the show a “dance party” and prodding the people sitting down to stand up and join the crowd up front. Of course they didn’t. Then he asked the lights guy to turn on the “forbidden lights” [really just turn down the lights] to convince us to start dancing. He knows how to work a room.

I went to bed with ringing ears and David Garza songs playing in my head. It’s been too long, too long…

It’s hard to study for a mid-term that doesn’t count for a grade but is only intended to give you an estimation of how little you actually know. It’s really, really hard, especially when sitting in a wifi enabled library with windows looking out to clear blue skies on a toasty September day.

addendum, post-test: the mid-term went about as planned. but here's the kicker: the prof asked us not to put our names on the test booklets. rather, we were to pick a number between 1 and 1000 and write it on the front cover. smart asses galore probably picked 007, 666, 69, 427, so on and so forth, but i chose a much cooler number: 42. who else in law school would pick a number from a geeky sci-fi-meets-philosophy book? as I turned my test in to the teacher, i noticed the test booklet on top of the stack HAD THE SAME NUMBER. i'm not not nearly as cool as i thought i was.

It’s become readily apparent law school is having several strange effects on me.

Ashley, one of the instigators who helped prod me to go on the infamous Portland trip, sent me a surprise care package last week. Its contents were: a cd of the pictures she took, a Lifescapes “Sleep” cd, Celestial Seasonings Sleepytime tea, a vanilla candle, and a sweet bottle opener I ogled over when drinking at her house one night. Better yet was the nifty artwork on the package and the purple and green confetti stuff on the inside.

Thank you, thank you, thank you, Ashley. You are awesome. Friends like you are a rarity. The care package is slowly working its magic and I am starting to get more sleep.

I’ve got six gmail invites. First six people to post a comment get it. Be sure to include your current email address.

I'm chatting with my 16-yr-old cousin in Israel right now. It's probably getting close to his bed time, the little bugger. He plays drums and I'm happy to hear he hasn't given up on them yet. I bet the neighbors are good and pissed. The best part is that his parents' apartment is too small for the drum set, so they leave them at his grandmother's house. I'm not quite sure how that works out, though.

BBC news published an article on a new research project some university-types are undertaking: the mind of a gamer. It made me think of my quasi-gaming days back in high school.

I took Computer Science for my 2nd, 3rd, and 4th years as an elective. All we really did was learn Pascal [ref: the man, the language], some C++, and some HTML. But after the teacher finished his lesson for the day and we our programming assignment, we did what any geeky computer student would do in a room full of 30 networked computers: we played games. Huge, 30-person, shoot-em-up games like Quake and Duke Nukem in either team play or free-for-all formats. It was glorious way to spend first period.

He’d get tired of us after a while and threaten to uninstall the games from the system. We scoffed and called his bluff. On Monday morning, the games were gone. But all was not lost.

By Wednesday, we’d have the games reinstalled and he’d shrug and go back to arrays and pointers. This cycle continued throughout my high school experience.

So when the BBC article said:

"It is much like playing football or rugby. If you lose, you feel rubbish but still elated."
…
"They[‘re] not sure what they are doing, but they know they are functioning at their peak."

courtesy of Ashley. be sure to read the ensuing exchange below the picture.