Friday, October 31, 2008

The Other Phone Thing

Mental Rehab Post #34
Bad habits, annoying traits, things we do that we do and have been doing for ages for no good reason at all. You all do them. Okay, I do them too. And some of them desperately need to be fixed, as some are just not good for continued operation of this institution I call me. It's more from the closet of my psyche, and as they say the first part of working on an issue is realizing you have an issue. And boy, do I got issues.

I need to start calling people back.

I have a horrible habit. It is one that comes from a combination of a general overall aloof, a bit of self doubt and the amazing fact that it continues to happen again and again. To wit: If you give me your phone number, there is a 85% chance I will never call you. And if you call me and I miss it, there is a 50% chance I won't call you back. Oddly, I don't ever screen calls though.

Women frequently offer me their phone number. I have no idea why.

One night in a bar as me and one of my partners sat drinking good liquor, smoking cigars and talking cash money shit a young lady wrote her number on a napkin - practically unheard of in the age of cell phones - and molded her body to mine to make sure I got it. I don't think her number made it out to the parking lot. And she was cute too.

In college one of my junior partners called her buddy over and after we all got blitzed drunk I woke up with her buddy's phone number in my pocket, with no recollection of asking for it. I don't even remember the game of strip spades we apparently lost, which mean she saw me naked and drunk and gave me the digits anyway. Seriously, I don't think I look that great naked. What did I say to that woman?

Another instance, in fact I think I related part of it on this blog earlier, I had ducked out of studying a few weeks ago and found myself in the Castleberry district drinking away someone's birthday. I think I spoke to this woman for all of five minutes. She'd been sitting on a table edge revealing a generous portion of rather attractive thigh just opposite me for about a half hour and so at some point I got up, walked over and opened a napkin, then placed it on her lap to cover her, joking that she was being entirely too distracting. She laughed back and said that she'd worn the dress to show her thighs, they were damn good thighs and I could keep my damn napkin. The rest of our conversation lasted maybe two minutes. I didn't even ask her name. Yet as I was leaving she walked across the room and presented me with her card, put her number in my phone and suggested we hang out. Her number is still in there. And I still haven't called.

I am not a male model. Not even close. I am not rich. Working on it. I don't pretend to be either, although the male model thing should be evident fairly quickly. Immediately is probably a more accurate term. So how is it this keeps happening to me?

Don't know, don't care.

But I sure hope it keeps happening. Because one day I'm going to start calling.

I keep trying to figure out when I stopped trusting the phone. I'd had your typical youth phone conversations, with the classic sitting on the phone listening to each other breathe and other silly things you do, and I've seen the worst of it with breakups by phone and watched and listened as hurtful lies were told. You know, the usual. But I've always preferred face to face communication. A medium where I can see and gauge and react to the non-verbal as well as the verbal cues people give off. I mean sometimes you can feel a conversation veer off even when the words don't match up if you're in the same room.

Maybe it's because I'm not even aggressive enough in matters of a social nature.
There are a lot of reasons I guess, but I don't know most of them.

In any case I need to start calling people. And calling people back.

Barkeep. Hello, Barkeep. Barkeep. I mean to call for real, seriously. I lost your number...Barkeep?

Wednesday, October 29, 2008

The Ren Sharperson Method

Mental Rehab Post #33
More from the back of the old psyche closet. Sometimes I'm amazed at some of the stuff I remember, like an old song I heard back when I was five, or a scene from a film that pops into my head for no reason, or an article that I read ages ago, or a memory of a moment that just resonates like you'd tapped my head with a ball peen hammer. Or something like that.

I went to high school with a guy named Ren Sharperson. At 17, he was a powerhouse football player with that athletic frame we all once had (no really, I was in shape once) and still somehow managed to look like he was in his mid forties in that first glance. But then it was South Carolina, and there was a slim possiblity he might have actually been only thirty five.

Ren was among other things, our resident philosopher. But his methodology was unique in my opinion, in that the man could break down any situation and I mean any situation down into understandable and uniquely logical terms of football. Ren occasionally springs to mind when I'm trying to explain something and looking for a metaphor to get my point across, and I end up defaulting to football terms.

For instance, Ren would consider getting a date to throwing a pass. The pass couldn't be to hard or too soft, it couldn't be underthrown or overthrown, and the recieiver had to be looking for the pass. Translate that into real terms and it made a young brother think about who he was asking out and how.

Another Example of a Ren Sharperson concept would be articulated as "In life, you need stop trying for the touchdown and just try to move the chains. If you move the chains enough times you'll get the touchdown anyway." Or for the non-sports person, this would translate into "stop going for the big accomplishments, break it down into smaller accomplishments that don't overwhelm you and as you get those done, you will inevitably get closer and closer to your goal." This is fairly good advice. Actually it was extremely astute advice coming from a guy under 20. And we were all football players who hung around other football players who talked about football all the time, so I'm a guessing that's why his thoughts resonated with such force.

I saw Ren last Christmas and he's a bit "rounder" now, to put it pleasantly he would be "more full through the body" so I feel better about my efforts body wise and about my fairly limited but about to get back on it work out ethic, but he looks his age now. Which means I must look mine.

Which is why old girl in the elevator at work called me sir. Which is something that can just ruin a damn day.

Every now and then when I'm faced with an issue, and nothing else seems to be helping me wrap my mind around it, I'll revert to the "Ren Sharperson" method.

And yes, it does sound silly. Until you realize it works.

Barkeep. Give me a cold one. Brand doesn't matter, as long as it's cold.

Tuesday, October 28, 2008

So this is what's left of my Weekends?

Mental Rehab Post #32
As the weekends get more boring, as if that were really possible, as they get more boring I'll try not to elucidate to much on the minuate, the silly and the just plain well, hell, it's boring. I do however promise it will get better. Eventually. I mean everybody keeps talking about how bad the first year of law school is. The rest is supposed to be a breeze. Relatively speaking. I hope.

It's been a long-ish weekend. Longerer. Felt like a week.

Friday was so blah the manager let eighty percent of the team leave early. Friday night was home looking at cases and trying to see what I could remember from the Westlaw Training. So by like what eleven-ish I was zonked? There was a time when I would start the night at Spot One, breeze over to Spot Two after a little while, end up at a third and sometimes a fourth spot all before 1am. And then afterwards go to breakfast...

What is the world coming to?

Saturday morning I awoke and breezed...okay, rushed in late, to the career planning seminar for Part Time Law Students. It was rehash of the basic stuff: don't wait until the end, you can do this or this, this is what's important, etc and so on. This time however, unlike undergraduate I'm actually going to use the career center. And I'm going to have to take issue with the school soon, as they appear to have no concept at all of weekend parking. It's an urban campus, with my count, six or seven huge parking decks, NONE of which are open on the weekend when they do have events and other goings on. Who's running this joint?

Then of course, I wore out my debit card. Unlike most people, I'm not a big believer in cash. I have this crazy tendency to spend it. All willy nilly. Two dollars here, a dollar there, a magazine, a soda, candy bar and zip flash what did I just spend all that money on? So I use a debit card pretty much exclusively. And once every 10 months or so...I literally wear the magnetic strip off that puppy. I found this out at Walmart, buying the small detritus of life, and luckily the machine took it on like the fifth swipe ...there was no one else in line... so I have to get that taken care of. Like Today.

So, now cash deficient I swung through the grocery store and semi stocked up at least through Wednesday and hunkered down. After I made a baked spaghetti (two kinds of cheese, tomato and bacon crumble), I did my case readings and figured out after Halloween I'm on a four week sprint to the finals. I have two legal memos due, my classes and now I'm going to have to incorporate studying for the finals into my meager time allotted. Flash cards, writing and rewriting outlines, reading and re-reading old material. It's about to get bumpy in here.

Sunday was social calls, as Spanky, revealed not only did she go phat on the furniture she's also remodeling the house which gives the impression Scotland paid very very well. With that AND the furniture, I'm officially jealous. Jealouserer. Talked to my brother who is working on semi-big things - finally - but until that's settled, it's all hush-hush. And after I found I had to defrag my hard drive on my main computer and thus couldn't do my case searches...I actually got to watch about a half hour of football. I have no idea who played. I did find out the Cowboys won though. Yeah!

Sunday evening I re-read for both classes and made notes. Then futzing around because I used the oven instead of the microwave to heat up a dinner portion of the baked spaghetti, I pizza burned it. It was still good though, but I wanted the cheese still gooey, not that golden color that means you've started to burn it. I used to work pizza delivery...another story... and yes, that golden cheese is really burnt cheese. Tasty burnt cheese, but burnt.

Sunday night...I um...what did I do? Oh yeah...I read through even some more cases for my legal memo.

Man this an exciting read isn't it? Okay, let's be honest. It's kinda boring, and it's gonna stay that way until the 2nd or so week in December. After that there will be a short period of intense relaxation. Then we'll kick off the new year with new classes and hopefully some new nicknames.

Did I mention the Halloween party? The last party of the fall? No...well...oops.

And since this post is going up Tuesday not Monday when I wrote it, I'm glad I didn't mention that damned party. Because although I had figured out that I could squeeze in one last night of the good time...why one of my student groups decides to hold it's Mock Final on Saturday morning? In the one class I can't find a representative final on? So I have to freaking go.

Do they understand just how lonely I be? They're killin' me...


Barkeep. One last one for the road. Lemme get a high and tight Manhattan.

Thursday, October 23, 2008

I Apparently Like Black Shirts

Mental Rehab Post #31
In an effort to complete this mental/emotional rehab, I've decided to start posting what would considered to the undiscerning eye to be some general crap. It is not. What you are seeing here is like when you re-organize anything - the stuff you forgot you had has to be moved as well. Mentally, these are little tidbits of trivia and silliness is that box of stuff in the back of the closet with that "omigod, I thought I'd thrown this out" stuff in it. And shirts.

In looking at my laundry, which was still folded on top of the dryer when I went looking for a shirt last (fill in any day of the week here), I came to a realization that I am a very dark person. And by that I mean I must own 15 or 20 black shirts. Long sleeve, short sleeve, pullovers, button up, polos, collar-less, faded, sharp black etc. And a lot of dark blue shirts as well. I have a few tan shirts, and like two red. And one purple that will probably never see the light of day again. And, maybe two green, I think I remember a green polo from like three years ago. But all of them together don't add up to the number of black shirts I own.

Shade may have been correct in her thought that black is my favorite color. Sporty used say I looked good in a black suit.

I like dark fabrics. Slimming. Okay, most of my underwear happens to be black or dark blue as well, but I can explain. I moved from white to colored underwear in college to simplify the laundry process, an important factor when you don't own you own machine. I've had a machine of my own for all but three of the years I've been in Atlanta and for those who don't know - first you buy the house, the second purchase is the the washer and dryer. You can get the lights and water turned on in a day or so, and furniture can come anytime later. Damn a fridge or a stove. I mean you can always eat out, but a laundromat visit can ruin your whole weekend.

And in my current neighborhood, I ain't just trying to milk the chicken with that thought.

And jeans. I need to buy some jeans. My office is like supremely casual, and when I say that I mean we run the gamut from sport coats and khakis to hipster motorcycle boots and metal band tees to football jerseys and knee shorts. So nice jeans and shoes with a shirt means I'm one of the better dressers on staff. Only I need some new jeans...and I suck at clothes shopping. I mean that. You should see some of the stuff I've bought. Other than the black shirts..

That maybe why I own so many black shirts.

If get some Grey shirts, too flashy?

Barkeep, get me a black Russian. Get it...Black... I like black... wuteva, Makers and sprite.

Wednesday, October 22, 2008

Musing's Fall Comment Drive

This would be a Post. Right Here. Posting.
I listen to the classics on WABE in my local area, and right now they're in the middle of their fall pledge drive, raising money to keep public radio public. And no, I have yet to donate. According to their numbers it takes about three to five years before a listener donates, so i got at least another year. Okay...maybe I'll donate. But in any case, it gave me the idea for this!

Welcome to the middle of our Fall Comment Drive. The writer of this blog in conjunction with the fevered recesses of his mind and the occasional help of frustration and Maker's Mark (fine whiskey) work hard to bring you the reader a compelling and interesting read. We cover a broad range of topics from stuff that doesn't matter to stuff that doesn't matter even less, all with sultry wit and dashing style. Salsa.

And it's not cheap.

I know you're thinking: what is he talking about. The internet is free. Or at least the part he's on. And if this fool thinks we're going to pay for this... Hey, hey, calm down. Not that. But here at the virtual bar we've got a virtual tab that has be calculated by the same virtual computers needed to mathematically figure why people play Second Life, as opposed to actually living the First Life. So...what is the old whiskey soaked, but reasonably good looking, old man sniffling on about?

My ego needs stroking something fierce!

I said my EGO! E - G - O. Minds all in the gutter, but then that's why I like you.

Feel free to comment, leave a note, get a word in, drop a line, ask questions, correct me, make a speech, get your point across, put in your two cents in, be wrong, start an argument, make a false assumption, lie, conspire to make me a better human being, attempt a verbal coup, lay it all on the line, tell me off, but jeez, just say something... dammit.

So, you come and read the fine stylings and occasional rant, and decide to contribute a comment or at least a snide remark, what do you get?

For a comment you'll get not the tote bag, not the coffee mug, not the key ring with the craftily designed extractor of caps which enclose liquids (i.e., bottle opener), not the nine piece dish set or the my musical double CD - the one of me singing West Indian Celtic Folk tunes on disc 1, and me breaking to causation and economic theory of Congolese monkeys on disc 2. No, you'll receive the grand prize, and since I don't actually have any of the afore mentioned stuff, what is really the only prize: A really good feeling for having said something.

And it will feel great. Well good anyway. Okay. It's not a bad feeling. Think of it as finger exercise.

The staff here at the Musings, and by staff I mean Me, the venerable and always funny Myself, and cool and collected and add another adjective here, Aye, would like to thank you for checking in, and ask that you do your part to support this fine bit of foolishness we've thrown up and nobody has been smart enough to take down yet. Your comment and $1 wouldn't buy a cup of coffee, but a comment might just help out a guy writing because he likes it and who probably keep on writing in any case keep on writing for reasons other than the reasons he's already got to keep doing what he's already doing and continuing writing (breathe) but said comment would be greatly appreciated.

Operators are standing by....

Barkeep...a round of drinks on my tab. Of course I'm good for it.

Tuesday, October 21, 2008

Why all the S nicknames?

This is an Explanation Post
Got a question about something I've written in a post? No? Okay, you got a general question that I can give a funny answer too? No? Do you need your history homework answers? (I'm pretty good with history) You can just LEAVE A COMMENT and I'll see what I can do.

I got a comment...Whooo! I got a comment, I got a comment! Now both readers have written in! Anyway, I got a comment (Yay!) that asked why all the women's nicknames that start with S.

Long story.

No real reason at all. Okay, so it wasn't a long story. Sue me.

Some of them are real nicknames. I am horrible with names by the way, faces I remember forever but, names float in and out. I swear it's not personal. Mostly. I think I explored it in depth in a post way back. Or not. I think.

Schmoopy's nickname was actually Schmoopy. Well, we both were Schmoopy, I called her that and she called me it back. I don't even remember why.

Spanky is short for her alter ego. Which I understand she actually has listed in the phone book instead of her real name. Something I did not know you could do.

Sporty just fit. She is an athlete. Plays football, basketball, works out all the time, watches SportsCenter, follows the games. And when she wants to get dressed up, she is spectacular. And since Spectacular would have been a little funny...and "sporty" is a old forties slang for good (thanks TCM)... so I went with that. (BTW, her real nickname also starts with S, but it was too obvious).

after that I just went with the S it's kinda fun.

It's my thing. Roll with it.

Barkeep. Let me get a shot of that Ice Tea flavored Vodka (note: this is a real product!)

Monday, October 20, 2008

Just another damned quiet weekend

Mental Rehab Post #30
If one more person assures me that I'm going to make it though law school, you just don't know. They just keep piling on and pulling out new tricks. It's a conspiracy I tells you, it's a conspiracy. I've been shanghaied.

I wish I was making up just how quiet my weekends have become. That perhaps is some other reality I was still out carousing and club hopping and party caravaning (now that gas is back to a semi-reasonable price. Come on $1.50!), being charming to attractive women, drinking and having a good time. But in this reality I'm trying to figure out 5th amendment issues, rewriting a covenants memo, and trying to cram contract law and property law into my brain.

Friday at work was well, I don't really remember. Lot of crap. I think I had wings for lunch. The job has become so much of blur, a wave that rolls under and leaves no trace other than to wash away my time and another bit of my soul.

Friday night I here, started...on my 5th amendment memo, after discovering a lovely tool online that that wrapped quite a bit of it into a neat little package. I was slogging through it, bit by bit when at 9pm I took a short break...and woke up on the couch at 2am. I've been falling asleep reading the law a lot lately. In sleeping I missed when Sporty hit me up at 10pm on Friday night. That's strange.

Saturday early was reading contracts stuff and then to break up the day, I went to lunch with Spanky. At Publix. We got a couple of sub combos and ate at the Publix in Midtown. Different. And we talked about her life, she's had a couple of rough relationships, and how she's only been in town a week and she's got a new guy. Her tenants will be out later and she needs to get the house ready. Her persona can swing between independent woman and needy chick in as little as 30 seconds. One minute she's all business, the next asking for validation then back to self confidence just like that.

It was still early and it wasn't like the law books were going anywhere, so I drove her around in Weezy (my new nickname for my car) to look at some furniture.

Nothing like watching somebody spend a few grand on a whim to make you feel broke.

Spanky apparently got paid a lot more than me, and in Euros. In the space of thirty minutes she bought more furniture than I actually have because it looked good, so fuck it get it. Furnished her whole house, just like that. Two stops, Ima get that - I want that - Lemme have that. And I paid for lunch? I don't want to talk about that anymore.

So I went home, read through the notes the prof put on my covenants memo and started that over. Around 1am a little frustrated I degenerated into mindless little flash games online to clear my head.

Sunday I was supposed to go to lunch with a law buddy, but she ended up flaking on me. She won't get a nickname till we eats. I trundled down the law library which really IS a great place to study and read through my memos again, then went to the tutor session, which wasn't near as illuminating as the previous session. Still good though, much much better than class. I went back to library after and did property problems online, and learned that you need to read the fine print (hey, that was kinda of a lawerly thought!) Went home and read up for property class and ate take out Chinese.

Over the past two weeks I've been having trouble going to sleep. No, let me rephrase...I have trouble going to bed. Last night like three nights last week, I didn't go to bed until 3am. Sometimes it's even later. Or earlier depending on your point of view. I hope I'm not having bad dreams that I'm not remembering.

Need to tighten up. Get my mind right.

Barkeep. Four shots of Patrone, that will put me down for sure.

Thursday, October 16, 2008

Sitting down with the Man

This is a Political Post
It's going to cover a political topic and discuss some political things and probably get a reader or two mad and make somebody else mutter "he's crazy" under their breath but then this is my blog and not yours and I can say what I want to, so there.

Photo from AP

Last night, like probably half of America, I sat down and shrugged off a new episode of South Park and the premiere of David Alan Grier's attempt to be Comedy Central's replacement for Dave Chapelle and found myself oddly intrigued by three men sitting on a stage discussing politics.

Bully for America. It's about damn time we took this much interest in government.

The two men shook hands and sat down in a format I kinda suggested a few weeks ago, semi - informal but with the ability to discuss. Both men looked ready. And Bob the moderator should have opened with three quick one answer questions that would have gotten both a little rattled, but loosened them up.

1. Grass or AstroTurf?
2. Cheese or No cheese?
3. Chicken wings or Chicken tenders?

This would have given the talking heads who analyze these types of things simply hours of airtime trying to figure out what their answers meant. You could have added in "How much does it cost to go out on a Friday with the family in America?" as a finale, but that is like the infamous gallon of milk question. Just like an NBA or NFL ref you don't want the game to hang on your whistle or call, you want to let them play.

And play they did. Obama came across to me cool and polished. It takes a real cool and even man to give the answer he did when asked was Palin ready to become president if the worst should happen. In the overall questioning McCain started strong in my humble opinion, but faded at the end, sniping at his opponent in almost ALL of his answers. The eye rolling at one of Obama's answers didn't help. It began to sound petty and you wonder if the man you're watching remembers he is a United States Senator.

Both men used a real world example, Joe the Plumber, trying to show how their plans would work in an actual situation. I think it worked for both sides as they were able to put a real face on their concepts, and how their tax plans and health plans would affect those at those thresholds. I am not. Yet. (Afterwards I found the video where Obama actually met Joe, and he stopped, answered the man's questions and explained to him what the pros and the cons were of his plan and why he thought it should work the way it did. It took him over 5 minutes - all off the cuff.)

And the budget, with Obama's scalpel and McCain's sword. McCain's idea to take a hatchet to the government budget, which waxed nostalgic to Republican fiscal promises of the past, all of which met "difficulties" being kept and were ultimately abandoned. No more money out...unless it's for defense. They can have all they want. And this continuing crusade against "pork" which seems silly considering how little effect this will have on the grand scheme of things.

Bob the Moderator brought up how negative the campaigns had gone.
Bob the Moderator brought up abortion.
Bob the Moderator brought up Supreme Court justices.
Bob the Moderator brought up the tax and health plans.
Bob the Moderator brought in the economy..and flipped the question.
Bob the Moderator is good.

The more the elder senator talked the more bitter he began to sound, at least to me. When the "terrorist" accusation was brought up and duly answered, his response to Obama's explanation seemed to me as though if the junior senator didn't admit to some wrongdoing there simply must still be more story to tell. What sinister association is supposed to exist here?

I'm still trying to figure out what they were writing down on those pads. Or why John stuck his tongue out at the end ...

I don't know what most of America got out it, but you saw this evening what I think should have been all three debates. It was as up close and personal as most of us are ever going to get with the next leader of the free world.

The clock is ticking. And thank God it will all be over soon.

Barkeep - just a little apple juice. Need to keep my head clear.

Odd Quotes

Imagine if you will, twelve starving murderous convicts sitting around a table. In middle of that table is steak dinner. Suddenly the lights go out. Me? I'm the onion rings.
- Quote from a movie I never watched.

Wednesday, October 15, 2008

Ain't gon' Bump No Mo, with no....

Mental Rehab Post #29
A lot of things are just that...things. One of the great bits of personal advice in the twenty first century isn't a lyrical concept on wings of gossamer, or even a statement you can live by, but a three word chant that distills life down to it's essence: Keep it moving. It implores us not to dwell on our failures or even take the time to celebrate our successes before we move onto whatever is next. I wonder how much life we miss, because we just kept going. A lot of pain I'm sure, but a great deal of personal growth as well. Has it really come to this?

I stopped listening to "real" radio last fall. I stopped listening because of Sporty and the fact that every other song on the radio is about sex (rap music and modern R&B) or about love and sex (r&b oldies) and so to keep from depressing myself I switched to classic music. Which has like no words and great themes and well, I've grown to really like it more than I did when I started listening.

Thinking back, I'm fairly certain there was Latin music alternative I should have tried.

I love music. I used to listen to everything: country western, rap, soul, African rhythms, jazz, folk music, bluegrass, Gregorian chants, sitars, in short pretty much anything with a harmony.

So this week I said hey, it's been a year and I said hey, jeez, how bad could it still be?

First, I did not even know Ricky Smiley had a morning show on 107.9. What happened to the A-team? Second, it still hurt a lot. A whole lot. And the oldies station weren't no better. What are the odds somebody would be playing a Luther song? Damn! First day back and you send out Luther? Just cut to the bone why don't you? Damn, let a brother ease back in!

So it was back to WABE and now I'm thinking about making a pledge as part of their listener membership drive. Man, I am in bad shape.

Honestly, some of the music makes me think of back when I used to dream the Sporty and I had a future. Okay, between us... I had even picked out the first song I wanted to play for the first dance at *gasp* our wedding. This will fade. Eventually. Maybe I need to just dive in and take the pain until it doesn't hurt anymore, just go on and listen to it all night and day. Or maybe I need to join a nice monastery.

Barkeep. Some of the communion wine with a beer back.

Tuesday, October 14, 2008

Odd Quotes

The moment we stop chasing our dreams is the moment we stop living and start just going through the motions.
- Me at 2:35am. (Sent to Shade and Sporty)

Monday, October 13, 2008

Weekends on the slow and easy

Mental Rehab Post #28
And in the beginning, I really wanted to get drunk so I could forget all that had transpired, but then I realized that I couldn't get that drunk or consume that much alcohol in one sitting. And that I really didn't want to forget her. So I'm kinda stuck. And like life it isn't always pretty, but it's what I got so I'm gonna deal with it.

Let's see, so little happened, where to begin?

Friday night, I stayed home and read through cases in Westlaw and some in Lexis, for my upcoming paper. I'm still not sure what I'm looking for.

Saturday...oh yeah, I read some of my class reading. I pretty much resigned myself to the idea that I will taking the library class over again. I believe I missed it by that >< much. It's a pass/fail course so close doesn't matter, and when I counted up the ones on the final I was shaky with, that number was awful close to the line. Oh well. I moped about the house and felt sorry for myself. I went to the grocery store.

Around two a.m philosophical inspiration struck, so I sent out one of my "inspirational texts."

Sunday... I read some more. Then I slept. Then I read even some more some more. I started on my outline for one class since we are moving to a new section on Tuesday. Sporty and I chatted briefly via modern communication, and I've figured out we don't' talk much anymore not because we don't have anything to say, but that we don't want to hurt each others feelings. She knows how I feel, and even now I still don't want her to be out of my life forever I don't talk about everything, so our conversations have become VERY SPECIFIC. She asks about school, my folks, she tells me what she's doing specifically, I ask about the topic she wants to talk about, I try to give her inspiration.

Spanky moved back to town, she'd been doing an overseas gig but things are rough all over. When we spoke last week she was depressed. This week however she is so busy trying to jump start hanging out I only spoke to her on Sunday when she had a moment to catch her breath. She decided a hotel would let her come and go as she pleased...and that my neighborhood is still probably a little too transitiony.

Then I read some more. And outlined kinda. I need to find that disc with the outline samples on it.

I think I whiffed the first one, so I gotta go back in there and get them other three. No excuses.

Barkeep. Something philosophical. Martini, dry? Sounds about right.

Monday, October 6, 2008

Quiet Moments in the Fall

Mental Rehab Post #27
School has been 'berry 'berry good to me. School has done something that I don't think I would have been able to do on my own. Which is for large parts of the day I am able to put a vast number of personal second guesses out of my head. For the most part I can live in the moment. When it gets quiet, or given a few extra seconds in the decision making process, I can overthink something sideways. School hasn't allowed much of that. Thanks School.

Last night Shade called from DC. She's doing her residency in Chocolate City and like women do in the movies, she stopped an took a moment to enjoy one of the small pleasures of life. She called me as she watched the sunset from the Thomas Jefferson Memorial among young families and younger lovers (possibly arranging a menage - her words not mine), just to talk. If she'd had a extra foamy frappacinco and been wearing a Versace she could have been a walk-on in Sex in the City 2.

We stayed on the phone for an hour talking about nothing in the way that friends do, me neglecting my studies for a few minutes of personal connection. It might have been the best thing I did all weekend.

Speaking of the weekend, I spent most of it studying, just like I was supposed to. Yeah me! I woke up Saturday and read through most of the material, then went to brunch with Schmoopy, who so-that-every-body-knows for her birthday raised money for charities in Africa. She's doing Habitat for Humanity again later this month and I thought I might do it again, but it all depends on my educational outlook. The open legal memo is looking a little harder than I thought...gee like that's a shock.

Schmoopy and I talked about Sporty, and why it's unhealthy that I'm still there. We both agreed that my thoughts were unrealistic. She also understood that emotions are hardly logical. That would be why we call them emotions. She extolled the concept we both should endeavor to treat our emotions like we treat our bank accounts. We both know we'll fail. Schmoopy is cool.

Then Spanky asked via text from Scotland if she could move in with me until she can get the tenants evicted from her house, which like a whole other story I'm still confused about.

Then I went back to the house and got to studying. I should be ashamed of myself because in reading I'm finding answers to questions that I only guessed at earlier, which means I didn't read the first time. Right there on page six of handout eight is the answer to that question I guessed at three weeks ago. Oops. For background sounds switched from Real Jazz on DirectTV to Watercolors, which has even less words and sounds more like elevator music. For studying it's great.

Sunday I made my grandmother's biscuits for breakfast. It took me eight years to perfect this recipe and it only has three ingredients. There are no measurements, you just know when it's right. And they were. Then I went to the library and studied until the tutoring session for my Monday class started. I learned more in that 75 minutes than I have in the last three classes. I also learned how to answer the Prof's test questions and a few tips for extra points. Again with the Yay me. (Yeah and Yay me are in lieu of more ethnic but less translatable "aww suki suki now" or "Booyah!" - Thanx Mgmt).

By the way, I'm getting tired of watching the Cowboys via highlights on SportsCenter. And I saw where the Colts pulled it out so I know Sporty's happy.

Sunday night was my talk with Shade, and then I did my reading for Monday's class, the test is for one of the Wednesday classes, and in reading got all confused again. I'ma need to email the tutor.

All quiet on the bar front.

Barkeep...a little whiskey and apple juice. Trust me.

Thursday, October 2, 2008

It just keeps going and going...

Mental Rehab Post #26
Just when I thought I could make a few bucks selling gas locks, they up and get enough gas. Ain't this about a kool-aid drinking trick. Okay it isn't, but since I've been reliving the bad moments of my life for the past few days -- too hard a job, too much school work, too little anything else -- I figured why not look back on missed opportunities too. Load'em up, move'em out.

I finished the paper in the wee hours of Monday morning, and at work check it and make final corrections and adjustments until 4:30 and turn it in with a time stamp of 5:30pm, a full half hour before deadline. Now I can relax for a little bit and get the rest of my studies in line...right?

Wrong. The next, sorry, let's use the correct terms here...the next "legal memo" is already in play. It's still focused, relatively so, but other than the main case we're pretty much free to research whatever we want. Any of maybe fifty thousand cases. Which is great. Provided I didn't have anything else to do.

Which it turns out strangely enough I do.

The first tricky test is next week. The one they claim is simple but every year someone manages to fail. It's the test of understanding research materials - the law digests, the legal reports, what's federal, when whatever is updated, why would you use X - and although I've got a fair grasp of the subject I just don't want to be that one who stumbles out of the gate. We're still a fairly cohesive bunch, but since grades are curve driven (didn't know that, did you?) you can see that shark glint in an eye or two already. So much much studying is in order this weekend. And I'm taking off the day of the test, to get my mind right. And cram the rest of what I don't already know in there.

Sporty and I ....yes, we still talk....on BB messenger.... had a quick chat and she misses Atlanta, that there is no place like it. I should have told her she's in a new town, with new circumstances and she's just missing the familiar like I would have told any of my other friends. Instead unrealistic hopes leapt into my head and I just agreed with her. So that went, as they used to say sarcastically in the movies, swimmingly. If I'm gonna be a friend I gotta be a friend.

So let's recap. I need to study for my test next week. I need to tighten up on all my studies. I need to beef up the home security. I need to clean up the beefed up secured house. I need to get my car fixed. I need to get my car fixed up. I need to get my mind unhooked from Sporty. Some consensual nudity of a sort would be nice (funny how those two ran together). I need to schedule things a little tighter and stop wasting cash. I need to get my mind right. And I probably should get back to work.

(several hours later)
Barkeep... a wheatgrass and gin shot.