Adding up

Ramblings Post #182
My friend Schmoopy once admonished me for not writing a little opening piece like this, and it turns out my brother thinks I skim them from the internet. These extra forty or fifty, or sometimes few hundred words are like that little quotation at the beginning of the chapter of a long novel, meant to prepare your mind for what's to come, or set the stage for that part of the story. Or like this one, to explain why they're here, because I damns sure couldn't think of anything else to write. I got too much else on my mind.

Lately I've been spending a lot of time alone.

Not metaphorically speaking, in that I'm not dancing with thoughts inside my own head like a good version of Suckerpunch while the people around me just don't understand my inner turmoil and a silent epic battle for my sanity rages. I mean I'm actually alone. I got work, then school, then studying, then sleep which means you don't have a lot of time for social life, AND when you factor in that all my folk have lives that they are getting on with just like I'm getting on with mine, my previously tightly packed social calender has seen better times.

As such I am getting introspective in these increasingly long quiet moments. But then there aren't any raging inner storms, so much as looking around my psyche and trying to figure out what the sum total of me adds up to. More like accounting that involves columns like soul fulfillment, present value of future potential evaluation and life goals. And I've realized, when I its my time, that I'm going to be on my way with a shit ton of regret over moments not seized, opportunities not taken, adventures postponed. It's not a good look.

Don't get me wrong, I've lived a full life. I've had more "good times" than most people my age, good being a subjective term (very subjective). More opportunities than I probably should have. Many moments, good and bad. But when I look back at my overall potential...well, let's just say I got a lot of explaining to do. To me and God.

There a lot of things I wish I could go back and change:

I wish that when I was thirteen I could have manned up and actually talked to her, the first object of my affection. And then when it didn't work out, that I could have just moved on.

I wish I had been a little more dedicated in college, the first time, instead of indulging in a gadabout fantasy. I had a real shot, and those moments could have reshaped my entire existence.

I wish that my time that girl in college who said to me "leave if I ever tell you I love you" had ended on better terms. And that I had stayed after she said it.

I wish I could have realized I needed to commit to something earlier in my life, and worked my way through my need to be a jack of all trades, a small part of everything. I think that because I needed to be part of everything, I think I missed out on a lot.

I wish I had said yes, to one of those times heaven had smiled in my direction and made me the object of someone’s desire to marry. A lot of things I treasure that happened later in life would have been forestalled then, and maybe it might not have worked out in the end. But the possibility....

I wish I had taken that hookup job through a friend of a friend. Maybe I was too concerned about getting in over my head, and should have been more focused on taking the chance. Or even that offer in New York, that might have been half conjured fantasy or an inducement to neophyte peon labor.

I wish I had taken the chance to find something else back before I got too used to heat, digital TV and eating in nice restaurants. But then I never would have met Sporty...so that’s kinda iffy.

I wish I had told Sporty how I really felt about her when first started hanging out, and not when we stopped.

I wish I had bought the other house. The house with the full basement and the huge master bath that as I was walking through I could already see the people coming through in my head, as opposed to the house that I bought because I thought I could sell it quickly, on the come up.

I wish I had gone to law school earlier, when I was certain there was more ahead of me than there is now.

I wish I could make the words sing. Not the breezy melody or the song I can make them do that now, but to craft a whole symphony, a complete beginning, middle and ending of what my brother would call the 21st Century Classic American novel.

This last one isn’t all the way behind me. That’s where I’ll start. I’ve always been a writer. Since I scribbled out stories on the back of old ticket books at my father’s dry cleaners I’ve had a story to tell. I am going to finish one these books in my head. It won't change my past, and might not even fix my future. In fact I'm sure it won't. But it will be something.

I'm not looking for the quick fix, 'cause it ain't coming.

But, to paraphrase Kipling, after it all fades away if I can pick up those tools worn of use and start over as though I had nothing... which is what the reality is about to be professionally... and maybe emotionally ... and get back at it, without fear of failure, quiet grumblings or issue, then maybe I can, I dunno, something. Get my mental, emotional and spiritual accounts in order?

I don't know where I'm going, but I do know I can't go back.

Barkeep. If you have to ask, then I haven't been sitting here long enough.

Sparring Sessions

Ramblings Post #181
In boxing, your average contender prepares by dueling in sparring sessions where they get in the ring with guys paid to mimic the style of their upcoming foes. It can be educational, insightful, occasionally painful when you find where your own weak spots are... and they charge tickets for you to see it. So you can pay to watch him spar, and then pay again to watch him box which is a hell of a racket. They ought to be 'shame of themselves. What does that have to do with this entry? This is legal sparring.


Our law school "Mock Trials" are almost upon us, and for the first time I'm feeling a little nervous about this particular legal sparring session.

You see, as part of my law school's program, all students have to put together one side of a trial, as either the attorney for the plaintiff/state or defendant. Opening statements, direct, cross, objections, closing all that, closer to real life than Matlock or Law and Order. During one of those frequent "why are we doing this" discussions the infest law school, I was informed by a classmate, most law schools don't require this, because the truth of the matter is most lawyers don't go to court. The best ones keep you out. Lawyers are by in large negotiators and counselors, so knowing how to effectively run a trial is one more specialized skill in the legal quiver. But then my school also starts you off in Property law, which a lot of schools also don't require, so I guess everyone's mix is a little different.

I work for a living, so I went over my pre-trial motions this weekend, sat down last night and put a few final hours into it and sent if off...incidentally fifteen minutes before the power went off at my house due to the storm that rolled through.

I was feeling good about the whole thing until I got the motions from our opposing counsel today around noon. I thought I had crafted a fairly good argument in mine. I had researched a mix of motion formats from a couple of sources since I figured mine was fairly cut and dried, basic rules of evidence stuff, and cobbled together what seemed like a comprehensive motion. What I got from opposing counsel used the single example the prof sent out as a blueprint, and included what I consider to be a lot more depth than mine. A lot more. I cited rules and made impassioned argument - they cited case law.

I only just got the lasagna right, as evidenced by my previous brief earning a few good comments for being logical and easy to follow. My prof had given indicated it seemed like I was getting it. Did I get smug while I wasn't looking? I'm hoping it's that I just misunderstood the assignment or using the model I constructed was an acceptable option. I was just getting into the swing of this, getting all hyped up to get my Johnnie Cochran on, but now I'm not so sure. Yes, I figured not only would I do all those things necessary to show I understood the procedure (the point of the class)...I would win the case too! But that's just confidence, not arrogance, right?

Right?

In any case, its done and gone, and oral arguments are upon me - again. I need to get with my trial partner to see which motion she wants to handle.

Barkeep - one them aperitifs. I don't know why.

Wasted Posts

Ramblings Post #180
This is a behind the scenes look at how all the magic comes together. A guided tour of the Mind Distillery. Please keep your hands and feet inside the tour vehicle at all times, there will be a question answer session at the end, it is $3 to take a photo, no snacks will be provided, a bag lunch might be served, everyone is required to line dance, please have your passports ready, and again ladies, autographs will be on the left bosom only.


Because I write a lot these in free moments while I'm supposed to be doing other things, a lot of these don't get finished. Which is why occasionally you'll see one of those "Things I meant to comment on" entries. I'll have a great point I want to make, or a thought I want to get to the meat of, then realize it looks a little lonely and its been awhile, so I'll start to tinker...

...and never actually get anything that amounts to anything. A fleshed out paragraph that needs a introduction, and that leads to other points. An outline of story. One great point connected to nothing. A scribble that looks like it might have potential. So I throw it all into a big entry. Or make bar chatter.

(Note: This has been open on screen at work for at least two hours as little window in the background. I'm just adding points when I get a minute or two.)

I hate when I get an idea, in the middle of an idea...and then I want to split it out into two updates. Which means even more writing during time I don't really have. I don't really like to let a good idea for a entry get gobbled up by another idea. And since I get ideas for stories all the time, what would make you think the errant update is any different?

(Note: At some point it happened today, and started writing literature about waiting for a phone call. Grand and prosaic language, themes and imagery. About a phone call. And in the end I decided I should call...or at least text if it was that damned important. Sigh)

At the end of the day, I'll wrap up. Now, there are times when I get home and have to put a polish on it or look up source for the political ones, but a good part of the writing is piecemeal. And idea. Then work. Then expanding the idea. Then more work. Then finally a good 75 to 80% done and its time to head home.

Or there are entries like this one, which is now in day Two (or really day three, because is started it two days ago but didn't touch it yesterday). Meaning I wrote what I thought was it, and then didn't put it up. So, I go back and, what's the correct phrase here? Oh yeah, fuck it up so that it doesn't read near as smooth as it used to. Or I stick in yet another brilliant idea that really should have been constructed into an entry of its own.

See, here we are roughly...two hours later, it's still open in the background, and I'm dashing off thoughts before one last round of checking for fresh chicken to pluck. And polishing on that phone call story. Which is at the bottom of the this same little window, saved in the same text file for ease of access. Typing in text allows me to type without having to worry about formatting, spelling. I don't realize how badly I spell until it hits the page here, and spell check comes on.

Then a last read through. A bit more polish. And ...

...well, that's really it. Seriously.

Barkeep...give it to me straight.

Batman Obama Returns...

This is a political post...

Do NOT play cards with this man!

A person I'm seriously considering defriending on Facebook seems to believe that a our President, a former constitutional law professor, has no understanding of the constitution. This isn't the only reason I'm considering cutting that rope, we go back a long way, but his attacks on the current administration all tend to work the same way: its a great argument that leaves out a few fairly pertinent facts and a lot of reality. Now, Obama has done three or four things you actually can be mad at him about - Wall Street, dragging his feet on gridlock over judges, etc - , so manufactured outrage because you just don't like him tends to grate on my nerves.

Let's talk Libya.

The current diatribe is the President can't declare war without Congress's approval, and Obama doesn't have it so he's, and this is my favorite term, "shredding the constitution." This idea usually comes from people who haven't actually read the thing they so proudly want to waive in someone's face. So let's take a quick look at the law...

The relevant law is in the US Code, Title 50, Chapter 33. (This by the way is not the Constitution, but it IS the applicable law.) If you look at section 1541 (c) you it explains the Presidential power of using the United States Armed Forces. There the President is limited to using our troops except under a declaration of war, an attack upon the united states OR..a specific statutory authority. Actually, authority is second, but I wanted to point that one out.

Now, the next relevant part is section 1543 (a) which in states that in the absence of declaration of war the President can commit US troops without Congress's approval if he does three things within 48 hours: explain the circumstances, give his legal basis, and estimates the scope of his action. And he can do it for up to 60 days. Which in pure legal terms means the President CAN commit troops without calling Congress first.

Now...he can't call it a "war", which a lot of anti-Obama pundits want to shout that this act is from the rooftops. But it isn't actually a war until Congress says it is. This is really more a police action. But where is the authority you ask? Well, that's why the administration waited for the UN Resolution. As a member of the UN, we're can by treaty aid in the enforcement of the decisions of the Security Council, which effectively said "go get'em" in calling for the no-fly zone, so the legislative authority originates via treaty.

And although turning it over the operation to NATO seems like a smoke and mirror concept, it really is a deft legal maneuver. Okay it is legal smoke and mirrors, but the that treaty allows us to turn off the authority needed from Congress. How you ask? Again, via treaty, in which the US as a treaty partner supports NATO actions. It's not just them helping us, we have to support their wants too. And our NATO partners want to do this. Bad.

So are you mad we're there? Look, my personal opinion is let's not restock fifteen of them two hundred or so missiles we fired and we can pay the school teachers in Wisconsin. I'm not happy we're still playing World Police Officer, but since we're here let's get in and get out.

So, let’s see. Obama gets to take out Gaddafi, a longtime issue and promote democracy. In less than 60 days, only 8.8 years shorter than Iraq and Afghanistan. Without committing ground troops, minimizing loss of life. And taking the expensive and difficult follow-up "nation building" off the table by merely supporting an existing force. And, our allies see that's its not all about us, bolstering relations.

Batman Obama does it again.

Saturday night at Regionals

Ramblings Post #179
Things change. People change. It's part of the circle of life and what makes us grow stronger and get better. I've changed. I once told Sporty that in essence, we're not the same person when we go to bed at night as we were when woke up that morning. We're always becoming someone else, and that's who we are. That said, when we stop changing - except when forced - is when we get old. And I'm not getting old any time soon.

So Saturday night, I go to Schmoopy's "thing" to support.

For the last six months or so, she's been on a health kick that makes my weight loss deal look like I've been eating brownies for breakfast and taking pizza through an Iv. Where as I get grapes, wheat toast and one scrambled egg for breakfast, she got a single small bowl of oatmeal and an hour of cardio.

She went hard core.

Which is how I ended up at the Georgia International Convention Center for the Atlantic Bodybuilding Regional show. Tickets were $35. I told Schmoopy that I really must like her to spending this kinda loot. But I do really like her, so I went on and ponied up the cash.

When ESPN was down at the bottom of its programming barrel a few years back, I would occasionally flip past a bodybuilding show, so I had some idea of what it was. And since the fitness model swimsuit issue was, at least to me way better than the SI swimsuit issue, I had at one time owned at least an issue or two of a body building magazine. Ages ago I might have even read one back when I was in shape. Way back, in the long, long ago.

So I show up, and it's now quite what I expected. Well, to be realistic, I wasn't sure what too expect, so anything that happened would have been unexpected. Part of my confusion came because I found out later that the most of the actual judging had actually happened that morning at 10am, when I was in class and which required a separate ticket. So, initially when the guys came out, posed for 90 seconds to some music and trophies were briskly awarded, I wasn't sure what was going on. The stunning woman sitting in front of me filled me in on that part.

To be honest most interesting part of the show, however....was the crowd. I sat in the back so I could watch most of them come in. The room was a mix of other bodybuilders, family, friends, friends who were also body builders, the large black guys that are ubiquitous in Atlanta, and the women. Apparently muscular guys in little trunks attract a lot of women. Who knew?

So then it happens. The guys have posed. Trophy are awarded. The the fitness model portion of the show starts. And suddenly the place turned into a pep rally. At Hooters.

Now, because I hadn't actually seen Schmoopy since she started this...and the last FB pic I had seen of her made her arms look a little muscular, I figured this was one more thing I had to sit through until the muscular women came out. The fitness models came on stage, skimpy bikini's, bouncing and strutting and bodies glistening. I was still in the back, trying to figure out much longer this would last and marveling at the sudden turn of the crowd from family friendly to a more "adult" atmosphere.

It wasn't until they announced Schmoopy's real name for winning Second place that I realized she had been on stage. The woman who had been explaining the nuances of the event to me laughed at my shock. Schmoopy hadn't been gearing up for the bodybuilder part...she'd been working hard to be a bikini model.

Side note: Considering she restricted her diet to the basics and did a twice a day crippling workout, I have new respect for fitness models.

Schmoopy is a normally a conservative person, and so the idea of her onstage during this portion of the show, where the girls acted bubbly and the announcer didn't have to exhort the crowd in applause surprised me. When I talked to her later, she said that the swagger she'd had on stage was her being "in character". Turns out a bubbly beach bunny type actually works out hard to look like that. Go figure. She felt it was a good experience and that she's gonna continue it as hobby.

So, $35 for 90 seconds. Which is about how long she was onstage. And for 89 of those seconds I didn't even know it was her, I was so far in the back. But then they'd done the judging in the morning so this was for the crowd. After she'd gone up, gotten her trophy and I'd let her know I had been there because she asked, I left. Maybe I was intimated by the guys in the 50 and older division. Maybe I felt a little bad as the women looked through me to guy with D-cup pecs. Maybe I decided to go and work on my own transformation via law school.

Barkeep. Water for me and whatever it is fitness models drink for my girl.

A Quick Restaurant Review - Highland Bakery

After Litigation class, where my Cross Examination was deemed good and my trial notebook well received, AND I got back my brief which the teacher thought flowed well and might be good enough to use as a writing sample, I called up Spanky and suggested brunch. She suggested Highland Bakery, and I asked did they have bacon? That really was my only concern. I really need to think things through better.

Then I couldn't find the place. The address as written - 644 Highland - should put it next door to the Highland Inn which is at 656. Ah, not so, it's actually at the other end where the number loop around or the street name is South Highland or something. So although I was downtown and the place was around the corner in the Fourth Ward, she beat me there. I was double pissed to find out I had turned at the corner to go to the other end of Highland and had missed the sign by not looking the other way.

That's the narrow end. The other end was twice that size. Maybe.

But I digress. Highland Bakery. Which actually is a bakery, with cookies and cupcakes and Honey Wheat Bread in it's tiny little lobby. Despite it being warm out, and that meaning crowds of folks looking to "be out", we were seated fairly quickly. The crowd in a city yuppie and urban mix. And then the waitress showed up promptly. And took our order quickly.

And it was such a nice day too. Bummer.

Before I get into the food, Spanky has started a night job - Bartending - at some little hood spot. She says it's to get her mind off last manfriend and make a few extra tips. I told her, bluntly, just don't let that get in the way of real job. I had to tell her this while leaning over the table and half shouting, as the acoutics in the dining area leave quite a bit to be desired. It had club level noise, in a restaurant at 12:45pm. It's laid out like...of all places, the Majestic...with a long skinny part and then a bigger room. Not a big room, a "bigger" room, meaning it was just bigger than the wide hallway they'd stuffed the first tables in. Just know, the spot was loud.

Then the food came. Spanky ordered their BLT and I had the basic bacon, eggs and grits. I always order that the first time I go somewhere, figuring if they mess up bacon and eggs, the rest of menu is hopeless.

They messed up the bacon and eggs.

The bacon was burnt. Not crispy...burnt. The eggs were overcooked and the grits were lukewarm. Wait, sorry, the bacon was burnt when it came, because they originally brought mine with grits, eggs and turkey sausage.

Let's just say the conversation was..wait, no. I couldn't even hear Spanky. Bad acoustics.

And her BLT was huge...and mostly bread from their own bakery..and it came with rice, and she wasn't impressed either. She covered up I would guess 70% when she was done.

Side item: Why does the waitress ALWAYS love something, and you get it, and then you can't stand it?

We settled up, and wandered out onto the sidewalk, where the restaurant to maximize tables had artfully set up seats three feet from the curb. Classy joint. I think the best part of the spot was the Mexican Place Across the Street. No, that's it's name...Across the Street.

I told Spanky that next time we eat, I would pick the spot. Seriously.