"If Facebook Opens to All Internet Users, I Am Out"

Does anyone else find it a little amusing that a group so-titled would still have nearly a thousand members, more than a year after facebook opened itself to anyone with an email address?

With nearly three months of silence, it seems that whatever i post here next ought to be monumentally important. Unfortunately, i am fresh out of monumentally important ideas or events, so this is bound to be a disappointment. There's the disclaimer.

In the past three months or so of my existence, a few things have changed. I've become a quasi-permanent resident of Minnesota, a status solidified when i finally felt settled enough to warrant acquiring a bed. This is a false symbol, because i know that if i decide to leave these cities of Twin I have a sister who would happily take this new and fluffy bed, but i held off on making a purchase til i'd decided i wasn't moving to Boston tomorrow. I may still move to Boston, but probably not tomorrow.

In October, I became a member of the Minnesota Bar. They made us recite an oath that no one could hear, so i think my new buddy Jamie might have committed to protect the aphids from the octopi. The audience, proud parents and dragged-along siblings alike found our apparent collective inability to recall the oath most amusing. It seems that this is the downside to being an attorney (aside from the having to be an attorney): the whole world derives satisfaction from real or perceived inadequacies. Fortunately, this trend has subsided, though i imagine that if i was to start signing my name with Esquire or regularly revealing this questionable affiliation, the harassment would be an ongoing problem.

Dr. Paul Finkelman of Albany Law School in New York will present this year’s Constitution Day lecture, “Was Dred Scott Correctly Decided?” on Thursday, Sept. 27, at 6:30 p.m. in Blount Auditorium.

Are you for serious?

Was Dred Scott Correctly Decided? Is this a question that's really worth asking? To pull from Wikipedia, in the Dred Scott case, "[t]he court ruled seven to two against Scott, finding that neither he, nor any person of African ancestry, could claim citizenship in the United States, and that Scott could not therefore bring suit in federal court under diversity of citizenship rules. Moreover, Scott's sojourn outside of Missouri did not effect his emanicipation under the Missouri Compromise, since reaching that result would deprive Scott's owner of his property."

I mean, i realize this lecture is taking place in Tennessee, but i figured by now even they'd cop to the fact that perhaps that whole people as property thing was a mistake.

My problem isn't really with the question, though. I fully support questioning. And based on the professor's other work, i'm presuming he's going to reach the crazy conclusion that, yes, the Dred Scott case was incorrectly decided. But doesn't it seem to be cheating, a little, to start with such an absurd premise that the question answers itself?

Last weekend, i reunited with family members i hadn’t seen in a decade or so to celebrate the wedding of my cousin Ashley, who is now one-half of Mr. and Mrs. Brandon S. (I tried very hard not to visibly shudder each time this label was announced). Amongst the issue of my grandparents and their siblings, my clan of six is the only cluster to venture further than Iowa; this event was something of an ordeal.

When it came time to toss the bouquet, i tried rather unsuccessfully to slink under the table unnoticed. With verbal prodding by my mother and physical assistance from second cousin Jamie or Cheyenne (identical twins I can no longer tell apart), i begrudgingly traipsed toward the back of the gathering crowd. For my part, i dragged poor older sister Robby, who spent the entire evening fielding questions about when she and Paul would solidify their relationship with the force of law (a question undoubtedly more awkward for Paul, who had met the numerous inquirers no more than twice and was therefore unable to politely adopt Robyn’s response, which amounted to “shove off,” in slightly less british terms).

As Robby and i cursed the stupid tradition, Ashley threw the flowers over her shoulder with a bit more arch than necessary or practical, prompting them to bounce off the escalator we had so wisely congregated underneath. Ten-year-old first-cousin-once-removed Sierra boldly rushed forward, swept the bouquet from the ground, and held it up triumphantly, secure in the knowledge that she will be the next to marry.

And according to my mother, she may very well be. “Sign of the times,” she proclaimed as we returned to the tables. “Huh?” Robyn and i inquired simultaneously, trying to ascertain whether we were somehow being slighted. “As the bouquet was released, the crowd collectively recoiled. Sierra was quite apparently the only one in the group with any interest in being married; the rest of you stared at it as if poison. Sign of the times,” she said again, before venturing to the next table to share her observations with a different generation, filled with those who might appreciate the novelty of such reactions.

“Sign of the something,” i joked to Robyn who smiled knowingly. “So, when are you and Paul going to tie the knot?”

So, i came to Minnesota to see some friends, find housing for the future, and water my sister Robyn's plants. She's been in Honduras since mid-May, and her boyfriend Paul went down to join her for three weeks. Thus the plants were left unattended. Except, i'm thinking Paul killed the plants and discarded the carcasses, because as far as i can tell, there is but one plant. It is a cactus.

Admittedly, it's a cactus in very poor shape. I was scouring the apartment for these alleged plants, and after the third go-round, it finally occurred to me that this thing is arguably living, and clearly in desperate need of water. It's shaped like a slightly elongated version of my kindergarten classroom tarantula, falling limp and lifeless across the side of the pot. (Last i remember, it stood upright).

Robby feared that her ten weeks away might be the death of all things living in this apartment (excluding Paul, on his better days; he was very not thrilled with her plans to disappear for the entirety of the summer). Paul possesses many wonderful traits, but clearly plant care is not amongst them. However, now that i'm discovering "all things living" (when excluding Paul) is but a cactus, i'm sort of questioning her alleged motives for such strong encouragement of my visit. I think the plants were secondary, arguably tertiary.

Which is fine. I mean, over the past three years or so, her once-standard line of questioning: "are you moving to Minnesota" has evolved, adding a "when" to the beginning, my eventual relocation a forgone conclusion. And i suppose with time, she's prevailed. I am, in fact, moving to Minnesota for at least some period of time. And hopefully after the next three days, i'll even have a place to live once i get here. But i'm laughing, a little, at her pretextual rationale for my visitation.

Because i have to move somewhere and i've always had a fondness for the cities of twin, i'll be heading back to Minneapolis in mid-July. However, because i don't know exactly where life will direct me, i'm looking for sublets. I don't want to commit to a year-long lease only to discover that my life calling awaits in Bloomington, Indiana.

So, i've been scouring craigslist for sublet opportunities. The area has several colleges, so such listings are not difficult to find. I won't really know what i'm looking at til i arrive in Minneapolis next week (to visit/find a place to live), but i'm not terribly worried. I'm sure i can find something that will do, and besides, Robby's offered up her place as a permanent back-up (we'd probably kill each other, but still, good to have options).

Anyhow, perhaps the most difficult part of the process is searching the entries without clearly defined criteria. I mean, i have a ballpark range that i'd like to be meeting for rent. No need for the luxury apartments. But beyond that, i'm pretty flexible. So i'm sending out lost of emails.

However. I came across one post that seemed to meet all of my standard criteria. It's actually in the city (none of this suburban nonsense), and the rent is reasonable. But the individual providing the listing kind of ruined it for me when he mentioned that he is a single male with no criminal background, willing to provide identification. I mean...really? Really? The fact he finds this to be information worth sharing makes me steer clear. Perhaps i'm just too naive to understand the potential horrific roommate situations that could greet me in the next few months - but my assumption is that most people are lacking of serious criminal histories. I don't understand how this is to be a selling point.

Apparently after graduating from law school, the anticipated summer course-of-action involves taking a bar exam. And that, dear Internets, is what i have been doing since the graduation of nearly a month ago. Well, studying for that exam, more accurately. The actual exam is allegedly torturous, but only two days.

The bar exam is supposed to pose a unique challenge, unrivaled by most academic endeavors. It is perhaps the only time in the career of a lawyer where one is expected to know more-or-less the entirety of the law. (The rest of life as a lawyer is open book). But for me, this poses an especially unique challenge. You see, i have crammed for every exam since…well, since i started having to study for exams. “The entirety of the law” is a lot of law; more than can be crammed into my brain in a couple of days of diligent preparation. So in addition to the generally anticipated lots of learning, i have completely revamped my study habits.

Thus far, things are going pretty well. i bribe myself with coffee-infused drinks and other assorted coffee shop treats, and spend roughly all of my waking hours sitting in front of my law books. I take an hour at the end of each day to read something for fun, and aside from a few major studying interruptions (i.e. finishing journal stuff, moving), this has become the regular routine. The baristas mock me. “You spend more time here than i do!” exclaimed Amy, Saturday night. I didn’t mention that hers was actually the third study locale for the day. But, i kind of enjoy it. For the first time in my memorable life, studying is the only thing i have to do…and even the subjects that i thought would be grueling (corporations, partnerships, and sole proprietorships) aren’t so bad.

Then again, such diligent studying might be called avoidance, by those who are inclined to make such accusations. For i have very little knowledge regarding my plans for life after July 25th, and this might drive me a little crazy…if i were inclined to think about such things. Fortunately, i have eleven books from the Barbri corporation filled with “important” materials that can occupy all of my brain space, crowding out pesky future uncertainty.

Come July 25th, though, things might turn desperate. While at the library the other day, i almost acquired What Color Is Your Parachute? Someone, please, promise me that if such day comes, you’ll adopt the humane and possibly murderous solution. Thank you.

All My Life's A Circle

GILES: Are you all right?
BUFFY: I'm tired.
GILES: I should imagine so. It's been quite a couple of days.
BUFFY: I haven't processed everything yet. My brain isn't really functioning on the higher levels. It's pretty much fire bad, tree pretty.
GILES: Understandable. Well, when it's working again congratulate it on a good campaign. You did very well.
BUFFY: Thank you. I will.
GILES: I managed to ferret this out of the wreckage. Now, it may not interest you, but I'd say you earned it. There is a certain dramatic irony that's attached to all this. A synchronicity that borders on predestination, one might say.
BUFFY: Fire bad, tree pretty.
GILES: Yes, sorry. I'm going to see to Wesley, see if he's still whimpering.

"Jess, really all i want to do is write music," Chris informed me yesterday as i stepped out of his car. Nathalie's newest career aspiration is "Maureen Dowd." Amongst the awards to be handed out at the 3L Olympics next week: Most likely give up the practice of law, move to Montana, and become a rancher. Choosing just one was tough: Sean's happiest moments in life were hiking down the Appalachian Trail, and Mark lived on a ranch in Wyoming before law school - but apparently Braddock already has his kayaking business planned, so i believe he embodies the spirit of the award. Tanya's tempted to return to radio, having found the perfect position as a programming director (except it's in Tennessee or some similarly uninhabitable place). In law school, we're trained to ask a lot of questions - but it doesn't take a lot of training to wonder why we all showed up here.

As for me? I came to law school because i had no idea what i wanted to do with my life. Three years later, not much has changed.

During an interview this morning, i was asked to describe a project i've worked on that's reached a successful outcome. Reaching back into my memory (so as to not derive every example for the interview from the Journal of International Law), i pulled in stories from CU Tonight, a project to which i devoted a good portion of life sophomore and junior year. I haven't thought about it much since...about the end of junior year, so when my interviewer asked follow-up questions about how it's doing today, i didn't have much of a response.

So obviously, instead of doing my work, i needed to look into the matter. And the answer? I don't really know. The application looks most official. They still aim to fund one event each weekend, though they have raised the maximum allocation to $5,000 per event (we capped it at $3,000). Ultimately though, i don't know much about how many applications they receive for each funding cycle, or how well-attended the events have been. I'll email Catherine, our advisor, once i finish with this school stuff. [Deadline: Tuesday. Coming quickly].

But, searching for CU Tonight also directed me to Ask Uncle Ezra, an awesome website devoted to anonymously answering questions about everything under the sun. Beginning in 1986, Ask Uncle Ezra professes to be the first "on-line helpline;" in its original incarnation, before every building on campus was covered by WiFi, students could use the two dozen computer terminals scattered around campus to Ask Uncle Ezra.

I can't really afford to search through these emails. I have lots to do before Tuesday. But, being readily distracted, i jumped back to the first inquiries to get a sense of the origins. And the second question, which seems to fully encompass the differences between now and then:

Dear Uncle Ezra,

How can I hook up my IBM computer, via a modem, to CUINFO?

-Ready to Connect

“They don’t have any fiber out there. They don’t have any wires. . . . They use my lines for free – and that’s bull. For a Google or a Yahoo or a Vonage or anybody to expect to use these pipes for free is nuts!”

~Edward Whitacre, CEO of AT&T ¹

Released over a year ago, this quote has long since disappeared into the ether, replaced by more recent outrageous comments by more important people. Ed Whitacre made waves with his apparent indignation, as net neutrality proponents interpreted this as a clear indication that he intends to create a tiered internet, serving content faster from those sources willing to pay for it. ²

In my world though, this quote remains most relevant, as my recent past has been fully consumed by Net Neutrality. Somewhere in between the studying for Wills and Trusts, Evidence, and Con Law II, i'm writing a paper about Net Neutrality and the First Amendment. It's going extraordinarily well, as indicated by the fact that i'm here on livejournal.

Regardless, i'm irritated. And therefore i rant. (Which ultimately, might be more productive, cause otherwise i might sit here seething silently for a long time). Because i'm just not persuaded by Whiteacre’s apparent outrage. His indignation fails to consider the symbiotic relationship between his company and the companies who, he complains, expect to use his pipes for free. His pipes provide a method of content transmission, and this is undoubtedly important - but the system is only as valuable as the content available for transmission. The Internet would be virtually useless if companies like Google and Yahoo had not created methods for finding and sorting the content available on the Internet. End–users are willing to pay for access to his pipes precisely because of the companies that provide content.

If law school has taught me anything, it is to not assume that people believe what they say. Certainly, AT&T would like to be making more money. As the CEO, Whitacre's job is to make AT&T make more money. And if AT&T could charge Google to bring their services faster than Yahoo's, he'd just be doing his job. But i find this incredibly frustrating, because it's a completely irrational argument, framed in such a way as to sound rational to those only looking for soundbites. And irrational appeals to emotion...that's how we get to really bad policy decisions. <sup>3


1</sup> Christopher Stern, Op-Ed, The Coming Tug of War Over the Internet, WASH. POST, Jan. 22, 2006, at B01.

² In related but quasi-irrelevant news, Ed Whitacre is retiring. I don't imagine this will substantially alter AT&Ts stance on Net Neutrality, but i'm not sure his replacement will be quite so prone to irrational outbursts, which might have a negative impact on my ability to rant about such things.

³ For more information, check out the SaveTheInternet.com Coalition

Having completed my final law school class session (which consisted of [not] drinking beer while discussing the second amendment), i feel that i ought to somehow solemnize the occasion. For the first time in my life, i can't say when i will next be sitting in a classroom, working toward some kind of degree. Fortunately, the magnitude of such an event is overshadowed by the fact that the next two weeks bring several finals, and i don't have time to truly dwell on this fact. Otherwise, there might really be tears (and not the joy-induced variety so common amongst my classmates).

I'm currently working on a papar that i don't really want to be writing, about a topic where my understanding of the subject matter is just slightly more than superficial. I accidentally volunteered to write this paper, so now i'm suffering the consequences. Sucks to be me. By which i mean, suck it up and deal, for the word volunteer pretty much relieves me of any right to complain.

Except, tonight i'm my paper-writing nightmares are of the variety that most law students wouldn't even dream to fear. Searching through a little more of the literature this evening, i discovered that the professor who is responsible for the grading of this paper has essentially written my paper already. Arguing precisely the opposite position.

Awesome.

April is the cruelest month, breeding
Lilacs out of the dead land...

I know but one person who could translate the words of T.S. Eliot's The Waste Land into a theme party. Fortunately, this is the same person whose company i enjoyed Friday night, when she directed her friends (and acquaintances) to dress as famous people who died in the month of April. With appearances by Jesus Christ, William Shakespeare, Pope Jean Paul II, Howard Hughes, Lucille Ball, Tammy Wynette, this was undoubtedly the most star-laden party i've ever attended.

Unaware of the precise theme prior to my Cleveland departure, i had no opportunity to pack for such an occasion, but the Pope took it upon herself to accumulate a surplusage of April casualties so that everyone could join in the fun. She declared me the inventor of the Barbie doll, a role which i might have embraced more theatrically if i knew anything beyond the doll's origins in German porn. Other assigned representatives included Pol Pot and Martin Luther King, Jr., as well as a few of the thousands who died in the Rwandan genocide, the Titanic's sinking, the Armenian genocide, Chernobyl's big boom, the beginning of the American Revolution, the beginning of the U.S. Civil War, Columbine, Waco, and the Oklahoma City bombing. April has indeed been cruel.

After getting past the fact that mere attendance granted one a ticket straight to hell, the party was most enjoyable. The evening included readings from Julius Caesar, frequent sing-song mentions of J. Alfred Prufrock, and dramatic interpretations of 1930s self-help books. A little more literary than the law school parties. I suppose this is to be expected when attending a poetry-themed party filled with Hopkins Writing Sems folks.

I believe the best part of the evening though, was listening to a debate between two of Patrice's friends, who were arguing over whether Patrice has a posse, an entourage, or a cult following. Seems her Baltimore friends think she's every bit as wonderful as those of us from Wichita do.

I propose that at the point that one is convicted of first-degree murder, labeling the convict's "relationship to the victim" as "friend" (for statistical consideration) probably mischaracterizes the interaction between the two. If it does not, and in fact they believed this to be a reasonable assessment of their relationship, perhaps both could have benefited from vocabulary lessons exploring the definition of the word friend.

Too late now, i suppose.

But we were born of risen apes, not fallen angels, and the apes were armed killers besides. And so what shall we wonder at? Our murders and massacres and missiles, and our irreconcilable regiments? Or our treaties whatever they may be worth; our sympathies however seldom they may be played; our peaceful acres, however frequently they may be converted to battlefields; our dreams however rarely they may be accomplished. The miracle of man is not how far he has sunk but how magnificently he has risen. We are known among the stars by our poems, not our corpses. ~Robert Ardrey

Monday night, i saw Word Play. To quote my movie-going companion Tanya, "I'm a junkie for geek competitions," so i'm rounding out my week with Spellbound, and hoping the Netflix fairies will drop Word Wars in my mailbox this weekend.

Word Play made me laugh. Never in my life have i felt so very normal. (I am not; i have never professed to be).

Spellbound made me ill. It's child abuse. Barely literate parents thrust all of their hopes and dreams on kids barely old enough to cross the street alone. Trembling with pressure, these twelve year olds spit out letters til they lose all meaning, praying that with a lot of work and a little luck, they're offered words they've encountered or can catch with a guess.

And in the end? Fleeting recognition and $10,000 in prize money. Plus the privilege of then attempting to make it through high school while remaining Phenomenal and/or Outstanding.

Dear overbearing parents: if you want to be impressive, do it your own damn self.

P.S. I realize this sounds like the ranting of a disgruntled former child burnout. I am not. I made it through childhood woefully pressure free. I actually spent much of my childhood requesting that my parents offer me more pressure, so that i might feel compelled to do something Phenomenal or Outstanding. Mercifully, they refused to comply.

Crippled by old age, my iPod has stopped displaying song titles. In fact, it has stopped displaying anything. It i touch the wheel, the screen lights up and reveals nothing. Useful as a nightlight, but little else.

One of these days, i will visit the Apple Store, hand them my broken iPod, and receive a newly refurbished model. (I enjoy the AppleCare Protection Plan, and have taken frequent advantage of its terms). But, this day won't arrive until i miraculously find a spare few minutes in which to make such a trip, so in the meantime i'm attempting to appreciate the positive attributes of an incapacitated iPod.

Such as? The rediscovery of my music collection. I can't select songs with any precision, for that requires some knowledge of where in the menu i am. So, when i magicially stumbled upon shuffle, i decided that was probably my best option, and have since just let it run. Apparently i have a lot of music that i never bother to hear. Some of it is music of long ago...Ben Folds and Dave Matthews play prominent roles in refreshing high school memories. But some of the most exciting tracks are one-offs...those that have seemingly just appeared, unattached to albums or artists or intentional acquisition. A couple days ago, i was walking down the street and suddenly found myself dancing to the theme song from Fraggle Rock.

When given a choice, i run into troubles with obsession. I have a computer full of music, and in any given month, i probably really listen to about five artists. Occasionally these rotate...but apparently i am a creature of habit. I'm kind of enjoying the forced deviation from routine.

In related news though...this will be the fourth time that Apple has replaced my iPod. I'm over the hype. For three hundred dollars, i want a music player that will last more than six months at a time. Anyone have favorite brands of the non-Apple variety?

Wednesday morning after evidence, i walked out of class with my friend Tanya, making plans to dedicate the afternoon to preparing for future classes. Then i spotted one of my favorite professors and suddenly remembered that, though i hadn't bothered to write it down on my schedule, i was registered for a class, with this professor, beginning at that moment. Death Penalty Lab.

I hadn't written it down because I had every intention of dropping the course. I am in my final semester of law school. I need one class to graduate. I need ten credits to maintain full-time student status. Without this course, i was planning for nineteen. (I like school). But simultaneously, i'm teetering between types of honors, and i'd like to finish with the higher kind. As a general proposition, higher GPAs come more readily with fewer classes. Dilemma.

So, i went to the first class, still intending to drop. But then we started discussing the projects. In death penalty lab we don’t do direct representation of clients, but instead work on particular projects pertaining to capital cases. Last semester, one group wrote a cert petition to the Supreme Court. Another group has been scouring discovery from the Lucasville Prison Uprising cases, looking for inconsistencies in testimony and treatment of defendants. We write substantive arguments for general motions in capital cases, explaining, for example, why a judge who is up for reelection should recuse him or herself from death penalty cases, or why lethal injection as a method of execution constitutes cruel and unusual punishment.

Somewhere within the first ten minutes of class, i realized that i wouldn’t be dropping. Here’s an opportunity to complete meaningful work on an issue that actually matters; Press and Society or US Intelligence and National Security, interesting classes though they may be, offer not the same incentives. The true concern now is figuring out which project i'd most like to address. Amongst those mentioned for the upcoming semester, i'm torn between two choices. One of the projects includes working on a statistical analysis of who is (or isn't) sentenced to death. One of the most shocking discoveries in this area, in my opinion, is that the statistical discrepancies regarding death sentences vary most apparently not on the basis of the defendant's race, but that of the victim. The highest rates come for black men killing white women. This project would look for further statistical correlations. The second project would involve writing (parts of) a capital cases for dummies type manual. Often times, lawyers appointed to death penalty cases practice in this area infrequently, and are therefore unfamiliar with the essential procedures. This project would result in the creation of a desktop manual, highlighting important details like calculating the statute of limitations for an appeal or filing a motion to stay execution (procedures which are apparently occasionally overlooked).

Again, dilemma.