New Format....a HUGE form of procrastination

I just updated my blog, so enjoy. This was a lot harder than I anticipated, as I created my banner by myself (and methodically eliminated the backgrounds on each individual piece you see placed on it).

I have no more energy/time to write a blog today. I must study. (And freak out.)

But mostly study....

(I think)

Forget LSF's....I CAN'T SEE!

That may be a bit of an overstatement. I've always had a really difficult time with the whole seeing thing. This was blatantly obvious to me tonight, as I couldn't see the road in front of me. DAMN YOU, lacking night vision! Although I'm (thankfully) not legally blind, when I'm not wearing corrective lenses, my vision is generally about 20/800. Just for those of you that don't know, there is a big E at the top of the vision chart. For those of you who didn't know that, you most certainly will not know that there is a HUGE A above that.

Folks, I can't even see the A. 

Now, how does one become so utterly lacking in vision? When I was younger, I used to read voraciously. I would read at the dinner table. I would read during class, hiding the book under my desk. I would read in the dark with a flashlight. Notice how that last sentence is underlined? Yeah....I think that's why I can no longer see. My mother likes to tell the story of the first time she noticed I couldn't see, which was when I was in third grade. At the time, I had a (moronic) teacher who, TO THIS DAY, I remember could not differentiate between the pronunciation of "broad" and "board." (I am still pissed about her marking my spelling wrong when I TOTALLY spelled the word she announced to the class, but I digress...) Every day, my mom would drop me off at school then head back home, but this day, I forgot my lunch and she had to come in to drop it off to me.

::CUE SCENE::

My mom arrives at the classroom, where I am literally a foot away from the board writing down our "DOL" (Daily Oral Language or something stupid like that) problem.
My mother, to the teacher: "Why is Erica so close to the board?"
The moronic teacher: "Oh, she does that every day. She says she can't see the board."
My mother: "And you didn't think to tell me?"
The moronic teacher: vacant smile

Later that day

Mom: "Why were up at the board this morning?"
Me: "Because I couldn't see the board."
Mom: "What else can't you see?"
Me: "I dunno...if I can't see it, how do I know it's there?"
Mom: (backing up) "How many fingers am I holding up?"
Me: (squinting really hard) "Two?"
Mom: "I'm calling the eye doctor."

::END SCENE(s):: 

As an aside: I was an overachiever even back in grade school. When the school administered the hearing and vision tests, I literally thought I was being graded on them. So when I misidentified the panda bear as the birthday cake (how ISN'T that a dead giveaway, people?!?!?!), I totally played it off, like "Oh yeah, that's what I meant." And somehow, they believed me.

Just recently, my dad told me "the rest of the story," as Paul Harvey (may he rest in peace) would say. We were talking about my pitiful vision skills and he said, "I still remember the day you got your glasses." Your mom took you to the eye doctor, and when they gave them to you, you told her "Wow....I can see!!!!" Your mom told me "_______, I felt about two inches small." That still makes me laugh, because she needn't have. I literally didn't know what I was missing...because I just couldn't see it.

To this day, my mom tells me I owe her my sight. She fed me so many carrots and sweet potatoes when I was a baby, the palms of my hands and the bottoms of my feet turned orange. She swears without this extra beta-keratin, I would have been doomed to spend the rest of my life with a stick and a dog. My mom...the optimist.

Bacon v. BO

I am no goody-two-shoes by any means. I enjoy a cold frosty (as my Con Law teacher likes to call it) as much as the next girl, and I have a couple of speeding tickets to my name (one of which is unpaid at this moment in time--EEK). I even think marijuana should be legalized!

That being said, let me emphasize something....MARIJUANA IS NOT LEGALIZED AT THIS TIME. This means that it is ILLEGAL. And especially because of this fact, I do not approve of its use. I do not want to see evidence of your illegal activities. I do not want to see you commit said illegal activity in front of me. And I will not stifle my reaction to something that is illegal if it is performed in my presence.

I'm a firm believer in the phrase "to each his own." Even with my support of marijuana's future use, I still don't want to have to smell it, be subjected to the negative impact it may have on your driving, or have to listen to your ridiculous rantings or food cravings while you are as high as a kite--and this goes whether it is legal or not. Personally, the smell of pot makes me want to hurl. I literally dread the first few moments on the bus because I'm unsure whether I will be swamped with the hideously disgusting aroma of "eau de MJ." I realize this is a personal reaction--I'm not sure why it's such a repulsive smell to me, but I'm not lying when I tell you it literally makes me throw up in the back of my mouth.

You are entirely entitled to your own beliefs regarding marijuana. But please don't kid yourself when you're saying you're doing it because you shouldn't be punished for it and that the government is being unreasonable...this makes it no less illegal and no less punishable under color of the law.

And even though you're convinced marijuana smells just like bacon does not mean it does not smell like overwhelming BO to me.

This Is Me

Jarmara Falconer at A Mission Impossible for the Dark Fantasy Nightwriter has kindly passed on the Versatile Blogger award to me. It requires me to tell you seven things about myself. However, as I did this a while ago for the Sweet Friends award I thought I'd tell you about my dad instead. Then you might get an insight into what makes me tick.

1. Yesterday was the 22nd anniversary of his death. He had just turned 66 which means that in a few years time I will be older than my father. That will be weird.

2. He stares back at me from a photo frame which sits just below my computer screen. People say I look like him. I take this as a compliment because he wasn't bad looking but I've never been able to see it myself.

3. He originally came from Norfolk and still retained some accent even after living in Tamworth, Staffs for forty years. If he ever got mad with us my brother and I would put on fake accents and mock him mercilessly. He never stayed mad for long.

4. On the last day of school term the teacher asked each child in his class if they could rub their stomach in a circular motion with one hand while patting their head with the other. (Try it – it's not that easy). My dad was the only one that could do it and for some reason this marvellous feat was rewarded with him being allowed out of school an hour early. Halfway across the deserted playground he passed the school bell and couldn't resist ringing it loud and clear. He was punished, of course, on his first day back.

5. When war broke out he volunteered for the navy but was turned down because he worked on the land which was a reserved occupation. When he finally did get called up they put him in the infantry despite having a dodgy leg. As a boy he had developed an infection and had to have his tibia removed. The army has never been renowned for its common sense.

6. He once received a certificate from Tamworth police for helping to apprehend a chap trying to nick stuff from Woolworth's one evening. Our house overlooked their back yard and dad had seen him climb over the wall. He had run off by the time a copper came so they drove round Tamworth in my dad's Ford Anglia till they spotted him. I think the guy pulled a knife at one stage. Exciting stuff.

7. The only piece of advice I can remember him giving me is 'Never mind your arse, mind your head, boy'. I don't know if this is an old Norfolk expression but I think it's a quaint way of saying 'Get your priorities right'.

So there it is. That's where I get my rustic sense of humour, my cynicism and my laid-back attitude. Thanks, dad.
I think all of the blogs I follow have recieved this award or something similar recently so I'll be passing this on when I've found some new ones.

LSF=Rocky series

So I've been studying Con Law while my boyfriend sits on the couch watching AMC's back-to-back series of Rocky. And right about the time he stands up and mimics Rocky, bellowing "Yo Adrian, I DID IT!!!!!!" it hits me:

LAW SCHOOL FINALS ARE JUST LIKE THE ROCKY SERIES

And I don't mean in a cool, wins-a-lot-of-money kinda way. I mean in the kinda way where you get your ass beat, and just about the time you find your footing again, you sustain another hit to the head that will almost certainly result in brain damage. (My boyfriend will have me and everyone out there in blogland know that this was a TOUCHING scene; he cried for that scene the first time he watched it). Ok-kaaay.....

The first time I endured law school finals (LSF), I studied my ass off. I memorized and I flow charted and I outlined, and I *may* have even woken up the morning of my contracts final and hurriedly whispered the entire outline in my boyfriend's ear while hysterically, albeit quietly, having a Chernobyl-sized meltdown. My studying and subsequent meltdown still couldn't save me from the disappointment of a semester's worth of mediocre grades, and the feeling that Rocky must have experienced when they decided the other dude won by a marginal point in the first movie. Even though the other dude DIDN'T TRAIN AS HARD AND DIDN'T DESERVE IT. 

The rest of the Rocky movies are also the story of my life, insofar as finals are to be discussed, and I'm pretty sure all law students can relate to this--even when you win, YOU LOSE. You study and study and study for an exam, and even if you kick some Mr. T ass (or, in your case, some Civil Pro ass), you have to wonder whether winning the fight was worth enduring the ass-beating you, yourself, were given.

I'm personally not a fan of getting my face punched in. I don't like even the imagined taste of blood in my mouth. And I'm not quite sure Rocky ever gets what he deserves in life. Yes, he wins some fights (and supposedly ends the Cold War....right.....), but ultimately, he ends up with brain damage (big shocker there), a whole lot of missing teeth (one of my BIGGEST fears), and loses his fortune because his asshole accountant abuses his power-of-attorney privileges. Oh yeah, and his wife dies and his son basically sucks. 

But like Rocky, we keep going back for more. And maybe after I sustain enough brain damage, I'll be okay with that. Like Rocky said, "It ain't about how hard you hit; it's about how hard you can get hit, and keep moving forward."

Bring it on, law school finals. Y'all may beat my ass, this ain't Rocky I (or VI)--I ain't gonna lose by a split decision. I'm gonna kick.your.ass.

Things fall into place....

I've been trying for the past two years to land some sort--any sort, really--of job related to the legal profession. At the beginning of the spring semester, I was summarily "excused" from my last job with nary a phone call for six weeks (I was a private contractor and would receive calls on where to be and what time to be there)--suffice to say it was the equivalent of a loooong, draw-out breakup with a boyfriend you don't really like, but kinda need to keep around because he pays half of the rent and it's tough getting back out there again. And while that job was perhaps related to the legal community in the sense of being the brother-in-law to your aunty's second cousin (once removed), I wasn't particularly enthused with it, although I was good at what I did.

I've applied for legal clerkships; I've submitted resumes for on-campus interviews; I've mingled and networked my ass off looking for that job. All FAILURES.

And now, in the words of the great Darryl Hammond (representing the legendary Sean Connery during "Celebrity Jeopardy" in the well-known SNL sketches)--MY DAY HAS COME! (5:25)

Quiet Time In the Dark

I will not be able to post here again for a while.  Due to the terrible storms that tore through Alabama,  I have power and no cell phone signal.  Once my laptop runs out of juice, I will be officially trapped in the dark ages.  They are saying it will be a week a more before power returns.  In the mean time I will be reading, playing board games with the kids, and enjoying quiet time in the dark.