A Quick Restaurant Review - Parish

Last year, for the first time in four or five years, Shade and I didn't spend her birthday together. She'd just moved to DC from Boston, had just started her residency and the idea of flying in for one or two days just wasn't in the cards. I thought we'd ended that little streak when she hit me up this year and let me know that she was slipping into town this year to do her usual, I was like yeah.

Then the rains came. And came and came. Then it rained some more. And her plan had been to eat her favorite little hideaway, Canoe. With it's garden right on the river.

Yeah.

Did I mention the rain? Did I mention it rained so hard it flooded and shut down I-20, I-285, and the I75/85 downtown connector? THE three major arteries of the city? Whole neighborhoods underwater? And did I mention Canoe with it's garden is, er, was "riverside"? I did? Oh. Well, let's just say that Canoe probably wasn't going to be the spot this year. Probably not.

So Sunday, we dropped into this Spot in the Virgina Highlands called Parish, as the fill-in location. It's the kind of restaurant that Sporty and I would have hit in our heyday, a little off the beaten path but still cool enough to charm your pants off. I had originally invited Schmoopy along when it was at Canoe, but I demurred, as I had also been supposed to slide into her birthday party the night before and had fallen asleep with Tort Law in my lap. I didn't figure she'd be too happy I'd went to one and not the other. Next time we go to brunch I'm taking her there...as kind of a makeup trip. I'm a bad friend.

Parish is one of those spots you're not sure of. The interior looks like the building has been their a hundred years, but the exterior looks brand new. The walls are a mix of raw brick and peeled plaster, and the ceiling is a medley of tin tiles that looked like they were salvaged from an abandoned building. It's supposed to be a New Orleans theme, and it looks like they nailed it. And if I hadn't been reading every home renovation magazine and and watched HGTV off and on before goign to law school, I would have much like my dining companions been wondering "how did they do that?" Don't get me wrong, it's a good look, but it's just a look. Also note, because the sound echoes off the brick, the din is gonna be a little thick once the place gets full. We mercifully had a fairly slim late brunch crowd.

The actual food on the other hand is real. The Belgian Waffle with the brown butter, powdered sugar and maple syrup was great. I should have ordered two. The waitress thoughtfully had it brought out first, unlike some places where all the food arrives at once. Shade, myself and two other all got a taste and agreed that somebody needed to go steal the recipe. The food emerged a few scants seconds after we'd finished, a testament to the kitchen's timing and even the two people who arrived late and ordered late had their food arrive quickly. The cook is a professional, not one of the many food burners that infest far too many a restaurant. Considering our orders varied between standard fare, omelets, eggs Benedict, shrimp and grits and a few other things, we really had worked him out.

There was supposed to be a picture here, but my little camera sucks.

The conversation on the other hand was a little too varied. The side debate of health care and big government turned into conversations of home security and the recent Atlanta flooding. The sound issue made it hard for one end of the table to talk to the other, so we were kind of stretched out and couldn't be as inclusive as some other spots. That and I met the other black person who isn't an Obama fan. Imagine that.

The last time we gathered for Shade's birthday brunch, it lasted well into the time the restaurant was setting up for dinner. We repeated this time, only after we'd taken the requisite pictures and had the one more conversation, we looked up and found ourselves in an empty restaurant. I mean no other patrons, no staff, just us. We considered turning off the music and the lights before we left. I've been places before where I have been told to "lock up" when I leave, but this just struck me as unusual.

All in all, Parish is a gem. I just wouldn't expect to be too conversational if you arrive and the place is full. I understand, but didn't go down and see, that they have a nice little specialty market downstairs from the restaurant, which a couple of my party breezed into afterward. The neighborhood is nice, the food is good and if I can get this law stuff off the ground, this is the area where I'll be moving to when I get the chance. If you get a chance, swing by and hit Parish. I know I will again.

A Quick Weekend Recap - Redundant

Ramblings Post #62
You wake up ready to go get it done. Then you run out of toothpaste, toilet paper and you breakfast biscuit looks like they gave you the one they dropped in the back. I mean it still has the bugs on it. But the cute girl smiles at you right before your car gets towed, so it's not a total loss. Okay, none of this happened to me, but just think....

Let's Recap from last week...

I got the TV guy coming Saturday morning [He didn't show], a seminar for law school from 10am to 4pm, [Which was nice, informative and educational] my alma mater is playing in the GA Dome [ Didn't get to go - SEMINAR - but I heard the band was on fire. And I think we won too.] , a old partner of mine is riding in from out of town around 6pm or so [He didn't show] , Schmoopy is having her birthday party[ I owe her an apology, I fell asleep waiting for it's late starting time], my old partner wants to go to Old School Saturday[if he wasn't here, I wasn't about to....], the city will be on fire as everybody and their cousin will be throwing a party for the FAMU-TSU classic [ Seminar, study attempt, sleep, what happened?], and Sunday morning Shade will be in town...only Canoe (her favorite restaurant) got flooded so we're scrambling for a new spot to have her birthday party, [went to a spot in the Va-Hi] my Civil Procedure writing assignment needs to get done [er, and still needs to be done], I still have my regular homework [still have bits and pieces], and somewhere in there...I might want to go the bathroom [May I suggest Charmin, good stuff].

Bar Chatter

Bar Chatter #5
When it's not enough to make a post, but deserves to go out to the world... it's just Bar Chatter.

Is it true? Are Crunchy Cheez Doodles making a comeback. After discovering a cache at my local grocery, and buying all three bags left, I noticed that one of the packages mentioned that a New new and improved (yet again?) edition was coming out. Or they were changing the bag. Or something. I just hope it means the store will carry more. I'm that far from writing the company again and asking why the local supplier won't stock an obvious seller.



Will my Doodles ever come back to me?

And can Kellogg's Dig'em Smacks be an adequate substitute?

News from the Desert

Ramblings Post #61
Sometimes we make decisions based upon a careful thought out and well reasoned set of facts, sometimes we make spur of the moment calls, and other times we make the best of a bad situation. I'm not sure which one law school is, but I do know that it has been both good and bad on more levels than should be reasonable. And thus, we soldier on.

They haven't kicked me out yet!

Some aspects of my law classes are finally starting to come together. In reading for the last few classes the cases no longer appear to be some sort of secret law club hieroglyphics and are turning into actual discernible and understandable words. I even formed learned opinions about the past few constitutional issues, so much so that I was giving more commentary than answer in class.

Huzzah!

Picture from Photobucket...and that's all I know.

Of course when my RP was in law school, he said it was right before the end of the first semester when the light clicked on for him. Granted he was going full time, so he isn't as distracted as I am by the rigors and manufactured hysteria of my workplace. Sliding into the work mind space, sometimes I think our people believe we're overnighting water to people on fire. Which for the record, probably isn't the most efficient way to do that. But everyone seems to think we work in seconds, not the usual hours that anything actually takes. Or what any activity usually entails. If one more sales person says the client is hysterical, and when you get them on the phone they're actually quite pleasant.

You just don't know.

School seems at once easier AND harder at the same time. I did find out some of my study habits were perhaps flawed - I would read the case before the case supplemental, when I should have been reading the supplemental before the case (that way I know what I'm looking at) - and that some my exam prep exercises were severely lacking. I need to order the books with the example tests next week. But then the tips did come from a full time student, who has vastly more time than I to get some of that done. I'm still thinking about switching the full time if I'm still in the program next summer. Yeah, its still like that.

Life's funny. And then it's not.

Barkeep. Some of the Maker's Mark and a touch of Sprite.

Let's see, this weekend...

Ramblings Post #60
Every now and then, everything comes to a head. You have to go in for the interview, the test date actually arrives, you actually have to open your eyes who see who that is snoring, and so forth and so on. It's just generally unusual that all of it happens at once. And then there is that one instance that it does. And it's funny because it happens to somebody else. This is both not and is this case.


I got the TV guy coming Saturday morning, a seminar for law school from 10am to 4pm, my alma mater is playing in the GA Dome, a old partner of mine is riding in from out of town around 6pm or so, Schmoopy is having her birthday party, my old partner wants to go to Old School Saturday, the city will be on fire as everybody and their cousin will be throwing a party for the FAMU-TSU classic, and Sunday morning Shade will be in town...only Canoe (her favorite restaurant) got flooded so we're scrambling for a new spot to have her birthday party, my Civil Procedure writing assignment needs to get done, I still have my regular homework, and somewhere in there...I might want to go the bathroom.

Did I leave out anything?

Funny. Last weekend all I had to do was read my homework and eat every so often. Oh the difference a few days makes.

Barkeep, let me a Crunk Juice with a shot of Red Bull.

Old Age

Ramblings Post #59
We get little signs as we get older. A twinge where there used to not be a twinge. Somebody calls you sir or ma'am, for no reason. The first gray hair, I got that one at 25 for the record. Suddenly, ten shots of tequila has the reeling, where twenty used to just be the start. And you realize that cute little thing in the tight pants that you'd like to introduce to your "game" is young enough to be your daughter --- and she's drinking in the same bar you are. There are a lot of signs. Damnit.

Yesterday old age arrived. I noticed the beginnings of a double chin.

If there is anything that makes you suddenly realize you need to take thine ass to the gym, it's looking in the mirror and seeing the start of that extra little roll of fat under your chin. The roll of fat on your hips you're used to. You've learned designer camouflage. Now you're trying to figure out how you'd look in an ascot, and thinking it might not be that bad.

I had been waffling on tightening up my diet: Adding the salads I'd started skipping back into the mix, going back to the bran cereal, cutting way back on the carbs....but have you ever tasted fresh hot fries? Or had chocolate chip fudge brownies that a still kinda soft and warm? Well I have and since I'm not working out for the moment, those snacks are looking at condo prices in my love handles. And since some old acquaintances have started pasting old photos.. and I looked stuffed and bloated in a few of them... this is not a new problem. I can see why I've avoided cameras and pictures and all manner of preserving for posterity.

It is singularly depressing.

I've done short term adjustments before: The juice week, low carbs, brief diet changes... but short term isn't gonna get it.

As many times as I've complained - whined, lamented, etc - about how women are a lot more visual than folks want to admit I'm letting a situation I can control with a little will power slowly become a a real problem. I dream of one day taking off my shirt to get into the pool and having the women look at me like a fresh grilled pork chop. With BBQ sauce. That hungry look in their eyes, that says "I need to gets me some of that." And I may have to cut back a lot of things, but I will get there.

Salads. Cutting carbs. More fruit. Already cut out the sodas. Get back to the gym.

I is gonna make it.

And this time, I mean it.

Barkeep. Pear Juice. And two rolls of toilet paper and a good book. And a magazine.

Ah, the Weekend

Ramblings Post #58
There are some days I wake up, and struggle to remember what day of the week it is. I have to concentrate for a few minutes where I need to be, what I need to do, what do I need to do to get to the whatever. And then there are special days. Days where you rise with a purpose and passion and from there things only get better. That second set of days would for the most part be imaginary.

Let's see, Friday night I went home...and what did I do? Oh yeah, I called and cussed out my bank, because I stopped for gas and damned if my debit card didn't get rejected like three times. I don't have a whole lot of money, but I know I had enough to buy gas! So after paying cash for my fuel, I went home and called the bank. Nothing like bank customer service...which ultimately blamed the gas station after 15 minutes of rabble and "can I place you hold?" I was so heated by the end of the conversation, I just curled up and watched some TV before falling asleep on the couch.

Saturday, was full of excitement. I lie, Saturday was halfway boring. After studying a bit I went and got my eyes looked at. The dock dilated me so he could check the back of my retinas. It was like being on something while being fully cognizant. The effect lasts for about 4 hours, and they claim you can drive - but what they need to suggest is that you drive straight home. I'm hoping the new frames I picked out while squib eyed look okay. I got new glasses, because the one's I've had I got about 4 years ago. That's like 14 in dog years.

Then, because I hadn't realized I was blind, I decided to go look for a TV stand. My TV has been sitting on what I think is a coffee table from the American Original Really Rustic collection that if I remember correctly I got from older brother's used college furniture stash, making the table at least 20 years old. And after an exhaustive search - online - the one perfect stand I wanted, Walmart just stopped selling. Yes, I was willing to head back to that blight of the American Economy, Walmart. I would have begged off, but everybody else who'd even heard of this particular TV stand wanted $100 more than Sam's gang. Only Sam had stopped selling it, so I was stuck. But as I got to the exit, on a humbug I got off and pulled into the Walmart parking lot.

A moment aside here, I haven't been out and about in a while. I haven't been to a mall in ages. I visited a mall and Walmart on Saturday. There are some nice looking women in Atlanta. Real real nice. Even with squib eyes.

So, back to the quest. I entered Walmart, walked past the toiletries, jewelry, men's wear, baby clothes, shoes, home decor, curtains, small appliances, crossed the chasm of Asomoth, mirrors, art and there on the home furniture aisle, halfway down...there was the stand they said they didn't sell anymore! For less than they claimed to have been selling it for when they did have it! Ain't this about a....

So I got my stand.

I met Spanky for lunch, and we got a floor show, as a young brother - unfamiliar with how a restaurant works - asked for his order special, then proceeded to instruct the chef how to cook it. Hey, man put some peppa' on it. I like mine on it while it's cooking. If I had owned the place, halfway through I would have opened the register and gave him his money back, plus $5, and told him to leave. He got on my nerves and he wasn't even talking to me. For his little $7, I don't think he realized what he was paying for was the right to eat and not have to clean up. Spanky regaled me with a story of yet another questionable man...but I think she's already sent him the showers.

Saturday night...I put together my stand. Although the instructions said two people, I'm just that good.

Sunday was more reading, the studying I'd halfway been begging off the whole weekend. But I did it. Then I watched football. For quite possibly the last time this season. And the Cowboys beat the Bucs handily. So I got that going for me.

Sporty hollered at me a little later, but that's a different tale.

Not a bad weekend. Well, not a horrible weekend.

Barkeep...What do you have that's say...good?

Bar Chatter

Bar Chatter #4
When it's not enough to make a post, but deserves to go out to the world... it's just Bar Chatter.

That thing that Kanye did at the VMAs (which I did not watch) was not cool.

It's called Youtube people.

Had he said what he said in a little interview piece thirty seconds later, it would have been one thing. A little snide perhaps, but perfectly acceptable given the catty nature of the music industry. But to walk up on stage and break into her time... if I was that little girl's brother they'd be bailing me out of jail this morning.

Why did he act like that little girl didn't work just as hard at her craft as his favorite did? One of the idiots in my office - one of the black idiots - called it a powerful statement. I personally think it was a powerful statement of ignorance.

Damn Kanye? Ain't it enough that you "theoretically" getting you some Amber Rose?

[gratuitous comment to justify Amber Rose photo post]

Photo from Complex.com
Damn she got a look I like...

9/11

on Sept 11, 2001 ...I was unemployed and at home. I had no interviews scheduled, not a whole lot of money and I was a little depressed. When I awoke, the sun was shining, and the world seemed okay. I got some cereal, sat down and turned on the TV...

.... and the message "Due to the events that occurred in New York this morning, we have suspended programming" looked back at me silently. From like 10 channels.

What the hell had happened in New York, I thought, that would shut down half of cable television?

In a book I read as a kid, the British sci- fi author Douglas Adams described an attack in one of his books as akin to "a man getting mugged in a meadow." I've often thought of that phrase when I think of sudden occurrences with what look like no warning.

I turned to one of the network stations. I watched the Twin Towers on fire.

Picture from the Huffington Post. I don't know where they got it.

I lived in Jersey for a brief period in early 1992. I was twenty minutes from New York on the Skyway, and World Trade Center was a fixture I could see across the river I drove. Because I was living there and not just visiting, I deigned to absolutely none of the "tourist" things while in town. No visit to the Statue of Liberty, no Guggenheim, and no trip to the World Trade Center. I found out comedian Sam Kinison died from the ticker in Times Square. I ate at a corner delis and bought silk ties for $5 on street corners. I was (temporarily) a New Yorker. Who lived in Jersey. But everytime I rode into NY, I saw the Towers.

I watched the replay of the second plane hitting the tower, over and over. I listened as the play the raw unedited footage and heard people curse on live network television as American icons were attacked. My cereal went uneaten. I couldn't feel for a little while. Something had hit the Pentagon. The motherfucking Pentagon! More planes were supposedly headed for Washington. There were supposed to be car bombs.

The phone rang and this girl I barely knew was on the phone. If I was in the dark, she was underground. She asked me what the hell was going on. As I talked to her on the phone the first tower fell. Even thinking about it now I feel strange. It's a sadness mixed with a little outrage. We stayed on the phone until the second one went.

When I told her the World Trade Center was gone, the very idea was impossible.

"What do you mean gone?" She asked me.

"I mean like not there no more. As in the buildings are gone."

I don't even remember how the call ended. I watched TV all day listening to every rumor, every bit of insanity that we were all to willing to believe in the moment. I remember my homeboy calling from DC. He's career military. The very idea that they had to fly cover over the nation's capital disturbed him. I didn't sleep right for week.

That was eight years ago.

And last night...I dreamed I was on the street on New York. Looking up at the first Tower on fire. Watching the second plane slam into and feeling the impact in my shoes, feeling the heat from the flames. And running, waiting for the debris to come raining down around me. I have no idea why...that's never happened to me before.

there are nightmares, and then...there are nightmares.

And the Weekend...The Recap.

Ramblings Post #57
Life is about being true to yourself. Every so often we all need to stop, take a deep breath and take a long and hard look at ourselves and be honest with the results. Not what you plan to do, what you hope to do or anything like that, but where you are right now, right this second. None of those self perpetuating lies or little embellishments we like to give ourselves. Because of nothing bad is ever said, nobody ever tries to be better.

I don't normally get long weekends. Even when I'm not working it seems like I'm working, in that although my RP is the draw, I'm the one in the background making all the little things happen. But not this weekend. This weekend I veged out, I did my readings, I typed up my notes, I apparently lost my mind at one point and went "gasp" shopping and generally tried to relax for a hot second.

After getting fleeced by the auto repair franchise Just Brakes on Friday - I would go into it but it's not worth getting that worked up again - I should have stopped at the grocery store and got me a box or two of cereal and pretended I was back at my momma's house reading comic books at the kitchen counter. But instead I took a shot, because it was the start of the three day weekend, and slid by one of my many running partner's promotions.

It's a new little drop in over by the dome at a spot called 595 North. It has the trappings of a nice spot, with lounging overtones. From 6pm to 9pm or somewhere thereabouts, it's free entry and free drinks. That is not a misprint. But if you're over thirty, or read this blog, you know that free drinks means well liquor only. And for the young and slow, well liquor is the liquor they pour if you don't have a particular brand in mind. It costs about $4 a fifth. It is rotgut. There was a singularly funny moment when standing at the bar I ordered an actual drink and the bartender told me the price. I gave him that blank stare that said the price wasn't about to change my mind, and he hurriedly filled my order. We had not issues the rest of the evening, he knew what I was drinking.

The promotion itself reminded my of babysitting someone else's children. My RP was the scene, and after a while we finally just had to stop someone and ask how old she was. The reply that she was barely past the legal drinking age sent a chill down my spine. It's one thing to think you're getting up there, it's another to actually be the "old man in the club". I have a personal prohibition of gettng drunk in front of other people's children, and that what the vast majority of these people were to me: children. I bid my promoter a quick adieu as soon as it was socially appropriate.

Saturday was slow, although Spanky did invite me over for breakfast, which consisted of eggs, bacon and Cinnamon toast. Her Martha Stewart has been slacking as late. And although she lobbied hard, I didn't attend the day party with the free bbq, or go to the joint at the Royal later on that night, or the house party on the other side of town. I stayed home and read casework. This is odd, because I sent out my usual holiday listing with what must be 10 or 12 little spots to hit, and myself went to none of them. But I see the photos on line...and boy can i pick'em.

Sunday was another day of reading casework. It wasn't that much to read considering how much time I put into it, but the cases get pretty dense and apparently my indoctrination is still a little ways off because i really don't understand why legal opinions are not in plain English. Or at least even clear English. The fact that most of the older law has to be interpreted is half the problem I think. But I'm still technically a first year, so what do I know?

Sunday night around 6pm however, my RP hit me with me with the last minute party invite. It was late and I had actually done the reading, it was around the corner and if it was busted I could slide back to the house in less than twenty minutes. But when I got there they had someone monitoring parking, security, a tent set up in the backyard and two bars served by four pretty cute bartenders. And the crowd was chock full of talent. Chock full. Talent my age.

And yet at 9:45pm, six feet from the dance floor where I worked out a sweat and "boogie'd down" with four or five women despite the horrible DJ, I whipped out my phone and found myself sending a text to Sporty on the spur of the moment. Yeah, despite all the talent in the room, I was thinking of her. I sent a quick quip and figured she'd get it in the morning.


She hit me back almost immediately, which I found odd for a holiday weekend. She complained she was lonely. I imagined her at home on the couch watching TV trying not be bored to tears. I wanted to cry. I assured her that while she might be lonely, she's never alone.

(I could write for a soap opera)

In any case that precipitated my Monday outing, picking up the little tidbits that will comprise her birthday present. It's not much, a few odds and ends I know she'll like, a bit here or there to surprise her. I don't know why, but the idea of her sad kills me. I do love her.

So here we are. Life, despite our best hopes and dreams, goes on with or without us.

Barkeep. The good brown liquor. No, not cognac, that smooth sipping whiskey.

The Spanky Chronicles

Ramblings Post #56
I am for the most part an observer of people. To be a creative, someone who is creative, you have to be an observer of something. Something has to inspire you, move you, motivate you. What I do is see people. My brother once said a talent I have that few seem to possess is that I actually listen to people when they talk. Well, I don't just listen, I look too. And when you look...not just see, but LOOK... some things become real clear, real fast.

Spanky, my erstwhile female chum, had another of "why is this happening to me?" jags just recently. It was the regular roller coaster of fun and excitement that only someone who really needs a hug can provide. I'm not perfect, but my girl needs work.

Let me give you the background. Spanky is a few years younger than me, and apparently we went to school together, although undergrad was a bit an alcohol infused blur so I quite honestly don't remember her, although we know a bunch of the same folks. I moved to Atlanta sometime later and coming up to speed, about eight or nine years ago I ran into her at a party - I was trying to holla at her friend - and we've been row dogs ever since. She's bright and got money (engineering degree & engineering job) cute with a nice body (spent a little time modeling after college) and very social. She likes to get her Martha Stewart on from time to time, cooking and decorating and all in all is a fairly cool chick.

But she's called me in tears on more than a few occasions after Guy X has finally gone too far. She has a tendency to end up with guys who ask her to pay their rent, settle their debts, pay for their trips and buy them gifts. Not guys going through a rough patch or two, but losers. In my humble opinion, I'm starting to think her cute is working against her, in that she has a look that still gets the guy looking for the quick come up... to holla at her because she is a quick come up girl-wise. I mean after all she's working with a full package.

Art by Mosskat

So why haven't I hollered? The phrase "know too much" springs to mind.

But as I said, she's just a few years younger than me, so she too is approaching that threshold where your game HAS to change. Where the clubs all start to look the same, the faces are a lot younger than you remember, and everything just generally used to be better.

Side note - Everything really did used to be better. Really.

We have a really long Bberry instant message convo about how she just wants to change. We go though a list of her exes, some of the insanity they've asked of her, before she finally resigns herself to ending up with selfish guys for the rest of her life. Her resignation just irked me. She seemed to believe that since the guys approached her, it was ultimately their fault they were selfish or users in her life. I tried to explain to her that basic concept that she was complaining about her own draft picks, that she was complaining about the guys SHE CHOSE!!!. Lot's of guys are interested in her, the ones she goes out with are the ones she interested in. The idea that she had some choice in the matter did not occur to her.

What she really needs is a minor readjustment of her filter, i.e, what is it in a man that she looks for, that makes her want to go out with them.

I have an old theory that I may have shared on here before, but bears repeating (I'm almost too lazy to go look). The average woman tends to date the same man over and over again. He may have different names, and be different people, but its usually the same guy. In other words, whatever it was that attracted her to the first guy is the same thing that attracted her to the next and so on and so on. There is an unseen commonality.

Photo liberated from Askmen.com

I saw this in college with a young friend of mine ( I swear I've told this story before) who when she finally had the police called on her ( long story ) we sat down and looked at her track record. All her men had been same height, same build, dressed in the same style - and thus would have had common experiences and have common attitudes that all related to the break ups. It was easy for her to fashion a new archetype to look for, and get a fresh perspective on men. With Spanky it's not so clear, but there is some commonality, I'm sure of it. A brief look at her history suggests to me she find a man with a regular job instead of the entrepreneurs and men still chasing young boy dreams she's seems to end up with. I'm certain there are more characteristics but I'm not looking that hard.

Listen me, like I'm some kind of healer or shaman. No, I don't know everything, but I've seen this a time or two. And I know usually what the problem is. You can't keep eating the shellfish once you've found out you're allergic, then ask yourself why you keep getting sick. It's illogical.

The problem, as par usual with a cute chick, is she'll meet the next guy next week and all will be right with the world, until he screws the pooch. Then we're right back here again.

Barkeep, just lemme have some of that brown liquor in the back.

Points in the Dark

Ramblings Post #55
It is a long strange trip into the unknown that each of us embarks upon as we wake each morning. We make great effort to minimize that as we go through life, getting and adorning our home, maintain the same employment, excluding certain things from our diet, limiting our travel to our home city except for special occasions. And then we change. And we decide what we hath wrought isn't sufficient, and we change. That's where I am. In the midst of change.

It's been three weeks since I started this semester of law school, but it feels like only two. That's because of two of the classes, I've only actually had two sessions. Only in the last one have we actually had, or rather after tomorrow will have had, three classes.

I'm taking the standard three card monte the school induces upon you for the finish of your first year in the part time program: Tort law, Constitutional Law and Civil Procedure.

Tort is quickly becoming exasperating. Our teacher is a talker, which kinda puts me in the hole because in class I become a talker. I'm the person not afraid to be wrong in their comment and am more than willing to speak up during class on various issues. But after the first class, where I thought it was an aberration, I find her theatrical bent less a warm up shtick and more how she's gonna do this whole thing. And she likes to float her questions around the room picking on targets ( I had my hand up like five times!) this class is one in which I better learn how to be okay with just taking notes!

Constitutional Law is on the other hand kinda engaging. Our professor is more than willing to let me and my row buddy 'Drew talk our freaking heads off. 'Drew is a character in and of himself, that unbelievably smart little guy who is able to quote cases from memory (he brings neither book nor paper to class) and connects the dots in legal theory on the fly with frightening ability. I just like to be heard. Yeah, I guess I'm kinda of an egotist.

Civil Procedure is tricky. The prof is both engaging as well as boring. He's my Property professor minus the Hawaiian shirts and adding a Southern twang. And he knows his stuff. I'm still finding my footing there, but I'm fairly certain once I do I'll want to show-off the meager bit of legal knowledge I'll acquire straight away.

I figured out this week as you need 90 hours to be a graduate the program and we average about 9 hours a semester, it's a 10 semester deal. This is my fourth semester, so I'm about halfway through. I figure though since it's part time and all the classes I'll need won't be offered quite when I need them, a couple of extra semesters isn't out of the question.

Provided I make it that far. We'll see.

Barkeep. A nice Riesling and some crackers..