Nealmeister

Moving, Lonergan, and Seventy-Five Days

An agent through which vital powers are exercised.

Fall is finally becoming fall in Boston, in November.  Crisp and cool, just the way November should be.  I always thought that this type of fall weather lends itself to the nostalgia that replays inside my mind and supports the frustrated writer that lingers inside of me.  That's what I thought about when I was walking up Walker Street after I got off the bus this evening.  I was thinking about how much I really love my street, and how cool but strikingly red the fireball glowed from the utility pole at the top of my street, and how much I really loved what I do--even though I bitch and complain about it at times.  It's that new slug of a slog that I have to fight out and figure out.  I could quit.  But I love the playing field.

Beneath that fireball, though, I bumped upon Todd and Meg's U-Haul.  Todd and Dan were in it, amid all of the Todd and Meg's life that was getting squeezed into a 17-foot U-Haul.  Now, I always get really funny with change, especially moving.  I play things off like I'll see someone tomorrow.  I try to keep things "normal."  I laugh a bit and [/MESSAGE CLIPPED/]

BarBri is Done!

Don't know why this was still in draft, 10 months after the fact.  I mean, the original posting date (in draft) is 12-JUL-2006.  And it wasn't even a real post...  just a picture of the Suffolk-AM crowd, minus Mr. Murphy of course.

But we can let nostalgia continue, I guess, for it brings visions of hope for the law school/barbri class of 2007.  Kids, there is hope.  Just wait until August...

marriage, blackbird style

Well, one of my PE girls had this post on everyone getting engaged and married in her life.  I felt the need to post here, because I feel a similar, simultaneous need to play "catch up" but yet ask "why?" 

Redux:

i find it highly amusing and somewhat unsettling that people at work are pointing out various people i should date. i couldn't possibly think about that right now. i'm too distracted by work that it has got to be 1 of the very last things on my mind. i also find it highly amusing that 1 of the people pointed out to me was someone my friend kristen went out with. and soha gave her a nice talking-to about that one. why on earth would i go out with someone who we disapproved of? (we don't mean "disapprove" in a bad way, just 1 of those things you just shake your head "no" at) that would just be all kinds of wrong.

i'm also at that point where i'm finding an increase in friends who are or will be getting married. and it doesn't really freak me out, it's just... there. i don't really know how to describe the feeling. it's just like, oh, ok. i don't know, i'm just thinking.

and then i have my best friend, who just broke up with someone she was with for almost 4 years. and i had no idea their relationship had been leading up to it.

so what's the point of this?  i don't really know, i'm just typing.

Potpourri post: Decisions, Peter Lattman, the Devil Wears Prada, We are Called, Dictations like Meredith Grey, and AUSTIN or BUST!

I don't know how much more random my posts can get.  One thing is for certain: as the period of time between posts appears to grow, the content that I need to fit into each post grows.  Plus, right now, there's a lot going on and a lot on my mind.  For one, it's about time that spring seems to be gracing itself upon Bosto n (it was in the 50's today!), but then again, after all of the events that transpired today, I'm so ready to enjoy some sxsw...

So, drumroll please...

Peter Lattman & The Devil Wears Prada

I've been reading a lot of the Wall Street Journal Law Blog these days.  I guess that marks the official transition from being a Top-40, MTV loving junky [via Pink is the New Blog] to wearing pinstripe suits and reading the Wall Street Journal as I take the bus into work. 

Perhaps what it really means, though, is that I'm slowing transforming into the Young Urban Professional (i.e., a yuppie).  As a kid growing up in Charlestown, I constantly criticized (and mocked--with my friends from the B&G Club) the yuppies, but deep down inside, I secretly admired them.  Of course, as a 12-year old, the aspiration looked a lot greener than the reality.  Scratch that.  It's just fine, but whether first year attorney, first year surgical intern, first year teacher, or first year police officer, I'm realizing that every single career path I even vaguely considered (or on the flipside, desperately thought I wanted) just requires putting in the long hours, putting in more effort, putting in the blood sweat and tears.  It's just like hauling a** in school.  Heck, it's like Jesus being humbled, minus the whole crucifixion thing.  And all said and done--I'm a small fish again.

Peter Lattman and the Devil Wear Prada come into play here, in part, because last night, me, Jess, and her cousin watched DWP.  I know what you're thinking--it's a quintessential chick flick--but it kind of got me thinking: since I'm single, I should be doing more for work.  Like trying to learn more financial stuff.  Like anticipating everyone's moves.  Like adding 10 or 20 more hours to work (and not billing it out).  I'm young.  I should be able to handle it.  And maybe, as Peter Lattman reports, I can take appropriate charitable deductions for donating my used workslacks to the Boston's Long Island Shelter.

Of cou/MESSAGE CLIPPED/

New to 2007

This isn't the crazy and fun New Year's post that I intended to post.  That's coming... once I upload the fotos. 

One thing that I did want to do was post my 2007 resolutions.  I did that in 2006.  I'll still call these 2007 resolutions "2006 resolutions," though.  In my heart, I still feel like I'm 24, a little confused, a little naive, and a whole heck of a lot hopeful.  My heart is still searching for something, even though I think that, quite frankly and quite gratefully but by far, I've got a lot of what I've wanted. 

What I'm realizing is that, perhaps, for most of the time, what I've wanted is not exactly what I  need.  That topic, though, will be addressed later.  I've had some good conversation with best friends and best priests and such over the past few days. 

So to 2007. 

Here's to a charge: that everyone refind, rediscover, reconcile that magic in their lives.  Especially if you're living on the coasts, by a body of water, or stuck in the mountains, where the different strains of life -- whether moving too fast or too slow -- will inevitably make us feel like we're moving in 2nd gear.  One thing is for sure: I'm not so sure what your magic will be.  Maybe it's God.  Maybe it's music.  Maybe it's teaching.  Maybe it's being a helper, a mover, a shaker, a lover, a friend, a hater, a caretaker.  We've all got to be moving along.  But what the heck is moving along worth, if, among other things that I can exhaustively list, you can't sit back and enjoy some good top-40 pop every once and a while (or whatever your thang is.  everyone just knows about my certainly unhealthy love for anything associated with MTV and Kiss-108)?

First five songs that popped in my head while writing this post:

fix you::coldplay
maneater::nelly furtado
move along::all american rejects
one hand in my pocket::alanis morrisette
over my head (cable car)::the fray

For my 1st Year... and 2nd Year... and 3rd Year... and First Year Associate friends...

o

[Credit]

I laughed wicked hard at post I'm pasting below.  Partly because (x) I'm a facebook junkie and could imagine all of the posts, but also (y) I've ditched my friends, my family, my gym, and my blog for work lately, so maybe (z) reading things that are only mildly funny to real people are actually funny to me.

Oh Gawd, I just made a sentence like I was explaining reasons to assume an executory contract, in the best interests of the debtors' estates, under section 365(a) of chapter 11 of title 11 of the United States Code (the "Bankruptcy Code")!

ANYWAY--I owe everyone a big Thanksgiving post (which I've been thinking about for a while, and actually been saying out loud, trying to nail the tone--watch, it will just be filed with "like" and "right?".), among other things.  I also owe the Brain Trust et al. a few rounds, Mens Club a few rounds, my mom a bottle of wine, and a girl in Texas a package with freeze pops that I bought in the beginning of August (good thing those things are non perishable).

In case I don't get to those things, though, here's a link to all of the bar review and bar exam posts from the summer [link:Bar Review Craziness and the Bar Exam] (at least all of those I classified as such) just for a trip down memory lane.  Remember all of those PMBR questions kids?  How we sucked at the contracts ones?  Well, I gave my roomie the big red book to prep for her contracts multiple choice questions on her middterm, and she got 86% of them right (at least all those that were applicable).  I live with a wicked smart one!!! (so--this is a good luck to all of the grad students, law students, and undergrads I know who will be taking finals and mid-years soon).

And now, this post I speak of:

Just A Few Reasons As To Why I'm Doubting My Choice To Attend Law School    

             

      

• “In class I often have to resist the urge to find a high heel and put it through my eye in hopes of ending the lecture/discussion.”
• "I've decided that if I leap to my death from the fourth floor of the library, I am going to land on the display case full of rare books. That will show them. And anyway, style points count."
• “Sitting through that class is like having a screwdriver shoved up your ass.”
• “Don’t worry, it gets better.... ok I lie, it doesn't.”
• “This is the 33rd time today I’ve thought about quitting.”
• “GRRR I swear every time I get a Torts assignment back I think about saying "f*** it I'm done!" Grr. I've thought about dropping out NO LESS than 18 times today.”
• "I graduate in December and I have to tell myself 17 times a day...'You can't take the bar without a degree, You can't take the bar without a degree.'"
• “It's my last year but it seems that the closer I get to graduating, the more I think about dropping out! I hate this s***!”
• “If I won I’d buy a plane to fly with a banner that said, 'Fuck you Brandeis' and fly it around the law school all day.”
• “10 times...shit, I've thought about it at least 15 times...and it's only 12:45.”
• “I didn't drop out.... but I hate everything about it.”
• “It's sad when the pain of law school hits T.V. Tonight my friend was watching Grey's Anatomy and one of the patients failed the bar and set herself on fire. Is that what I get to look forward to after I suffer through this first year hell?”
• “Page 4 of Contracts, day 2 of Orientation. That's the exact moment I decided to withdraw from law school, and it was absolutely TERRIFYING. You wouldn't believe how many lawyers have told me since that they wish they had done the same.”
• “One of the guys in my section the other day observed that our library is only one story high and that even if we wanted to, we wouldn't kill ourselves when we jumped off, just break our leg or something and still have to take the exams. That made us all even more depressed.”
• “If I were a 1L or 2L I would walk out of class right now and go to grad school for something fun. There is no way I would finish.”
• “I can't imagine being a 1L... or a 2L for that matter. If I were, by god I would QUIT. All you first and second years ought to quit...yeah, that's what I would do. Being a 3L, I'm just too far along and cannot justify it.”
• “And I can’t agree more that attending law school is like sticking a rusty fork in your eye, maybe both of your eyes. 6 more months....”
• “I remember before law school when I was a happy person and wasn’t full of bitterness and regret towards everyone and everything. Oh, and when I actually trusted people and didn't question everything they did and said. I also remember when my brain wasn't so full of unnecessary bullshit, so that I could actually remember things, like where I put my car keys or what I did last week.”
• “Ahh...Remember before law school when television seemed more colorful, sex wasn't too time consuming, you put milk on cereal instead of tears, acute paranoia wasn't nearly as much of a problem, spring time and the holiday season were less fear-inducing, that thing on your neck wasn't there, and you didn't know what voir dire meant and you were totally okay with that....those were the days.”
• “I am currently a member of 4 law school related suicide pacts.”
• “See, what I love about law school is the curve- it validates your feeling of failure. You not only know that you suck, but you suck more than just about everyone else. Um, flip side. You are top 10% in sucking. Interesting.”
• “I am convinced anyone who enjoys law school has no soul and needs serious spiritual intervention.”
• “I'm from Britain and chose to do a JD in the US. I spent the first semester thinking Americans were just weird, over-achieving, aggressively anal people. And then I found fellow Americans who also felt that law school was downright dehumanizing. Good to know that we're all in it together.”
• “As a 3L, I actually fantasize about dropping out of law school each day just for a moment of dreamy pleasure... these are no longer brought about by stress and tension... more so by boredom, I think.”
• “In a few years from now, I will probably be daydreaming about how much better my life would be if I had dropped out of law school after my first 1L semester.”
• “I thought about jumping out the window about 3 times during contracts this morning. Not to mention that everyone is a freak during finals. Is it too early for everyone to start being really weird? I thought about getting a job at Target, seriously. They have good benefits.”
• “I would also like to add that alcohol has been one of the few things in life preventing my actual dropping out of law school. Funny, how a great % of attorneys are alcoholics.”
• “When I was getting rejection letters from most of the law schools I applied to, a buddy of mine who was currently a 3rd year said. ‘Not getting in may be the best thing that ever happens to you; many people who have been through law school wouldn't wish it upon his/her worst enemy.’ I thought he was trying to console me....it took about a month of 1st year to realize the truth of that statement.”
• “I think about dropping out on average 10 times a day, until I joined a journal. Now, on average I spend about 10 minutes a day not thinking about dropping out and/or praying to be hit by a bus. But really, happiness was just a distraction in my life.”
• “I went to University of Detroit for my first year of law school, and my bud and I after class, while walking to our filing cabinet-type apartment would fantasize about some stray bullet hitting us so we could get out of law school without feeling guilty about quitting. No joke.”
• “There was a moment today when I almost stepped out into on coming traffic just to avoid doing my open memo.”
• “Sometimes, EU Law makes me want to lose the will to live.”
• “It’s Saturday night. I have to go back to law school in the morning. I have an appellate brief due at 3 on Monday that I have not started. I’m seriously contemplating running my car into a ditch some where on I-57 so I don't have to go back. God, I hate this.”
• “Open memo in Torts is due on Monday, and I haven’t written a single damn thing. Every day I find myself less and less motivated to do anything, and yet I wanted to go to law school since I was about 14? My dream is really a nightmare... awesome!”
• “So who has seriously considered staying home and never returning to law school after Thanksgiving break?”
• “You know how they all say it gets better the second year? They all lied. Bastards.”
• “I feel like the guy from Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade who drank from the wrong cup: ‘He chose...poorly.'”
• “I naively went into law thinking that you can help people by being a lawyer, now I realize that it is such an every man for himself profession.”
• “I’m hoping to get some sort of fatal turkey poisoning tomorrow because I don't feel like writing my motion paper...or take finals...or go to school next semester...or finish the next 2.5 years of law school.”
• “I just keep telling myself that something good is going to happen sooner or later...like a bolt of lightning on my way to the parking lot, or a speeding bus that doesn't see me crossing the street.”

[Excerpts taken from the wall of the group "I've Thought About Dropping Out Of Law School At Least Ten Times Today" on Facebook.com.]    

   

              posted by Lindsay at 9:05 PM

Oh wait, just one last  thing:

with the RA legend of the 'fried

In this photo: Neal Boyle (photos | remove tag), Caitlin M. Smith (photos)

From the album:
"Pur-don't" by Caitlin M. Smith

Neal Boyle wrote
at 12:12pm

Good luck on mid year exams, Caitlin... I know you're going to do wicked fuckin' awesome! Go in there with your mouth foaming, scratching at the door! You're going to mess them m-f-ers up!

Now spread the love to them all ;-)

 

 

A Prayer of Thanksgiving and a Prayer of Good Luck

First off, I want to wish everyone Good Luck on whatever state's (or states') bar exams that you begin tomorrow.  I think we've all prepped as much as we humanly can, getting beat up by BarBri and PMBR and so on... so now we need to kick in the creativity and hope and the inspiration that brought many of us to become lawyers in the first place. 

I like that vision from a hope standpoint, so that I can just keep on moving on.  But I think for all of us, there will be a few things that we maybe don't know--or really see--when those essays and state multiple choice and MPTs come in front of us.  Hopefully, that spark inside of us will keep us going.  Good luck, you!  Kick it, punch it, spit in its face... the bar exam is the enemy so go in and fight like it's your job! Booyah!

Second is a little more personal.  After all, the blog stems directly out of the Journaling that I've been doing since I was in the 5th grade.  The only difference now is that I kind of subject myself to the public light (that's what the comments, or the emails keep telling me... haha).

I have some groups to thank.  The obvious is God, being Catholic and all.  But those prayers I really said on my own, so I won't detail here....

When I emptied out my locker at Suffolk last night, and saw Brett Lovins when I was in the middle of a haze (and I think my conversation with him maybe got him worried, yes?), I realized: this bar exam is the culmination of really 20 years of formal education for me. 

It all started in Boston Public Schools -- at the Harvard-Kent School with Mrs. Kissling -- and since then I've been fortunate enough -- through St. Catherine's and Boston Latin and Notre Dame and Suffolk -- to meet so many educators who decided to work with my issues and get the best out of me.  In every ghetto, in every city, there's the geeky little kid who colors inside the lines and really likes to read and who really was shy and who couldn't win a fight for the life of him.  That was me circa 1986.  The balancing factor thanks goes out to all the guys, girls, adults, priests & nuns, coaches, camp directors, friends near and far, cousins and aunts and uncles and neighbors, and so many others in Charlestown and beyond who have really been great mentors and friends and have "had my back," literally and figuratively, advising and laughing and joking and criticizing and laughing some more.  For pointing out my faults and celebrating our victories.  This entire journey represents a joint venture of sorts.  I KNOW that I would NOT have got through this with out you all.  You get my thanks every time I see you, hang out with you, drink with you, vent with you, laugh with you, etc. etc.  But I just needed to recognize, you know!

And lastly, my family.  The Boyles. 

My siblings--Will, Ro, and Sean--are really my best friends, even though we fight and scream and basically live our lives in a drama-ful fashion, like we are straight out of MTV's the Real World.  Remember when we used to play "Mattress Coaster" when we lived in the Bricks?  Or all of our fart jokes?  Or the von-Boyle singers?  Remember when we moved to Lexington Street?  Our days up at the Bunker Hill Pool and how Greg the lifeguard made us do belly-flops into the deep end?  Oh, the days.  As much as I've hated being the oldest, I love you three.  I don't think anything could replace that and I kind of feel like I'm doing this for you as much as for me.  We shall do a toast up in Maine, for sure.

But more importantly, my mum and dad.  I can't really type this without some tears, but I love you and I thank you both so much for the sacrifices that you've made to make sure that your four kids can move on up.  I don't think that there's  any greater love than that.  And that's why, when things are looking grim in the middle of those essay days, I can count on your love and inspiration to carry me through.

* * * *

I'll be away for a while kids.  After the Bar, I'm going white water rafting up in Maine with the Charlestown kids.  Then the move-in to Russell Street begins.  Finally leaving home.  Free at last!

Good luck all of you guys!  And now, a little Irish Blessing because it's always worked...

May the road rise to meet you,
May the wind be always at your back.
May the sun shine warm upon your face,
The rains fall soft upon your fields.
And until we meet again,
May God hold you in the palm of his hand.

And, one last  (because this one is (and has been the whole summer) pretty cool)...

Sunday, July 23

My Best To All This Week    

I don't mean to be overly dramatic over some silly little test, I merely continue a tradition in hopes of inspiring those who may harbor doubts over the coming days. And no matter the results, having experienced this firsthand, I respect all who give it their best shot.

Good luck to all taking the bar exam this week.

He that shall live this day, and see old age,
Will yearly on the vigil feast his neighbours,
And say 'To-morrow is Saint Crispian.'
Then will he strip his sleeve and show his scars,
And say 'These wounds I had on Crispian's day.'
Old men forget; yet all shall be forgot,
But he'll remember, with advantages,
What feats he did that day
...
We few, we happy few, we band of brothers;
For he to-day that sheds his blood with me
Shall be my brother; be he ne'er so vile,
This day shall gentle his condition;
And gentlemen in England now-a-bed
Shall think themselves accurs'd they were not here,
And hold their manhoods cheap whiles any speaks
That fought with us upon Saint Crispin's day.

                                      

 

              

 

 

neal wants YOU on team FLUFFY!

ok, so maybe you won't get the title unless you were in Madison, Wisconsin the same weekend that I was...

Here's the deal.  I was watching Leno and got a little freaked out with Colin Farrell.  For some reason, I was like a hyper-sensitive viewer (maybe because I was blinded on my walk home from Suffolk WHILE doing my colourful flashcards, mind in brainfever, looking for a way out...) and felt a bit at dis-ease.  What is up with him?  Something awkward compared to the dude from 6 Feet Under and the Office.  So I continue to flip through flashcards, wondering why Massachusetts doesn't just adopt and codify the rules of Evidence already.  Then I give in.  I just need to watch some TV, goddamn it.  And not that I claim to be anything like Colin Farrell, but I realized I was weirded out because, at least from my present sense impressions, I could empathize: the thumbs up; the acting a little pissed off; the quasi-a-d-d.

Then, Conan came on.  Conan be cool.  And I started realizing: Conan is kind of funny, but he's also kind of scary.  Uma Thurman.  Not exactly wholesome Lindsay Lohan, but still scrumptious (a little bit of Kiflin & Kristin there for you).  Molest!  Yummy.  Hmmm.  Funny times.  Scary Conan.  Frightened.  Laughing.  Hmmm, I should call Vin.  Conan's on.  I bet she's watching.  Why aren't I tired??????  I just want to go to fuckin' bed!

I don't know if it's the No-Doze or what.  I'd like to think it's just the adrenaline.  What I do know is that going to bed isn't going to be any much better because I am just going to dream about contracts, and contingent remainders floating by easements, and manmade death traps that should have had warning signs, but didn't, and I'm dreaming, and "oh shit, there's an excited utterance that you're going to now use against me or someone else!!!"  Ayyyyyyyyy!!!!!!!! 

What I do know is that I could take the Bar Exam tomorrow.  It just needs to get done.  I need to be able to work with people and solve like, problems, and not multiple choice problems.  I need to be able to drink Chocolate milk and not worry about [name your tort/evidentiary rule/breach of contract].  I need to read more than multiple choice questions.  I need to be needed, and unfortunately, the Blue PMBR book, my BarBri MAT (Massachusetts Essays Testing) doesn't give me any kind of human satisfaction.  I'm sick of random nose bleeds that I've been getting, and I'm starting to think that my estranged family and friends and neighbors are sick of me sounding like I'm a paranoid law android straight out of some demented lawed-up contortion of a Radiohead album every time I walk and talk. This like sucks, "literally from my perspective" (that was for you, Alan), walking around taking my "break" through the Boston Common by walking with my iPod on at some products-liability deafening decible level, trying to zone out on some horrid Nelly Furtado hip hop, but afraid of losing any oh-so-important 4-1-1.  Yeah, I know that this is a right of passage.  Just another week.  Just another week.  Just another week.  Just another week.

Wow, that was a tangent. 

But you should have seen me 18 minutes ago, when I was rocking to Weezer, Kelly Clarkson, and Hanson.  You would have been mortified.  And you would have laughed so hard.  Wicked hard.  So hard honey nut cheerios would have been coming out of your ass...

Currently listening to: "Say It Ain't So" (Weezer).

Colin Farrell & The Beckhams. 

How about the 100 (more or less) freeze pops?

Well, kids, this might be the last post for a bit.  I've been meaning to post over the past week, but every time I'd sit down to write/pick up a phone/look at someone's facebook pictures, I'd feel kind of freaked out and figured (or let's say psychotically convinced myself) that I should be doing something for the bar exam.  Yes, it's that bizzaro.  PLUS, everything I look at is "the law."  When I was in church on Sunday, I analyzed the "Catholic-Priest-Recruiter-Priests" entire homily and the way he led the different liturgies of Mass in terms of law (it was actually kind of funny).

It's like being in the matrix right now kids (or the parallel story in my head--Sesame Street gone wrong).  You know that one scene when Neo looks around and everything is in 0's and 1?  You know when he's in the room with the maker (was that his name?) and the TVs have all the stuff in the world flickering on their screens?  And Oracle.  Oh, that nice elderly lady siting on the Sesame Street park bench.  She's there too, at times.  I just feel really enlightened right now and I'm putting stuff together, but at the same time, I so friggin' frightened that I just want to come out to the bar exam like Braveheart style and get'er done.  I'm almost at the Al Zappala point: foaming at the mouth to come in and attack.

Well, I was going to write about all of this inspirational stuff.  I actually had some funny things to say (I still can't stop thinking about blog content).  Like, the crazy "intervention" that Mark, Simone, Jim and James, and Colleen pulled to get me to eat a Tuna Cheese Melt at Silvertones.  Or how I've conformed my tone of talking into the male form of BarBri's very own Paula Franceze every time I talk to ANYONE these days.  Or PMBR -- that three day workshop -- had to be the greatest and most helpful point of bar prep yet.  Why is it that any time I'm around James, Sue, Jamie, Saraya, Georgia and others, we can always laugh at these crazy fact patterns.

My flashcards -- those things that have cemented shit in my head the past few days -- are wicked politically incorrect it's not even funny.  They need to be burned.

And people that I've flipped out on on the phone.  Greg-lo siento.  I couldn't hear you when I was walking over the MassPike.  And Denise.  Just remember, everytime I say "I really don't care about this rafting trip anymore" really means that I'm excited about Maine, I just don't understand.  Sassy... well, you know that I'm just a hopeless case, but I have half of a card for you.  Does that count?  And Hill, Alan, & Co.  Thanks for the random text messages.  Keep it real.  And Parker.  Yo, I got you package like yesterday.   We have some mail problems up in my parent's hood.

So here's a funny story.  Last night was the last day of the PMBR three day.  It was cool times.  Scary, but cool.  The professor teaching the live course was wicked awesome, she made me feel like I can go out to battle, so I basically convinced myself that she's cool, I can do this, and yeah I haven't (and won't) learn everything, so in the spirit of Crystal's words -- "Neal, you're making shit up" -- will be totally applicable on those essay days next week.  BUT, I worked out at Boston Sports Club for like an hour and a half last night.  When I left, I felt wicked awesome.  Of course, I had to get the Orange shuttle, so I had to walk from Downtown X-ing to Haymarket.  Not so bad...

I was walking down Devonshire Street doing my flashcards, and being really successful, feeling smart, not letting obscure con-law-crim-pro shit get me down.  Of course, I was talking to myself out loud and every person who passed me thought I was kind of weird.  But who cares.  You got to do what you got to do.  So as I'm walking near the Old State House, this guy who is passing me tugs my Timbuk2 bag.  I was like "what the heck?!  why are you trying to sexually assault me??"  And what do I do?  Holding a torts flashcard on blue card stock in my paw?  I walk RIGHT into a pole.

LOLOLOLOL

At least this ho won't have that problem (it's "Walking Julian" on the old Northern Avenue bridge")

Oh yeah, as a collateral story, why don't we all read this crazy Bill Belichick divorce story.

And for some laughs... I lead you back here.

Trauma, Crabs that Bark, and the Buses to Woodlawn

Well kids, it is Bar Day 26, and we all celebrated by taking the simulated Multistate down at the World Trade Center.  I thought it was going to be wicked horrible and traumatic and miserable.  When I bumped into Christine on the Silver Line, I joked with her and Victoria that I was shooting for an "80" because I knew that I was going to get kicked in the nuts exactly 200 times... I save all the details for those who just experienced it.  But let me comment on one and a half details (ok, maybe three): 

first, if those same seats are at the Boston World Trade Center on July 26th and 27th, I'm doing a few things.  First, I'm going to re-enact that crazy "I'm a covenant running with the land" bar exam urban legend because those chairs SUCK.  I was expecting nice padding, a-la Mattress Discounters.  We're taking the bar, damn it!  But no, instead I had plastic jammed into my back and a chair that barely gave me a chance to peer over the table to fill in those gawd-awful bubbles with my {expletive} number two writing instrument.  Secondly, I'm writing to the WTC and telling them to invest some of their hard earned cash in foldable chairs that don't collapse below my ass.  Chapter 93A definitely won't apply, but I'm writing the letter a-la-Chapter 93A-Demand-Letter anyway because I want them to be scared.  I'm 5-foot nothing, a hundred and nothing (errr actually, more like 5'4" and 165, but who is counting?).  Chairs should not be falling below me, in the same way that bullet proof vests should not become un-bullet proof.  Who allows things like that to happen? Exactly. So point being: those white folding chairs just SUCKED!

second, a happier note.  I'd like to announce to the world that I feel/think/believe that earplugs are wicked cool.  I always had this fear of putting them in my ears because I succumbed to this imaginary and irrational fear -- fostered by some freak urban legend story that I do not recall -- that I would pull them out and find out that I became deaf.  I think I came up with that idea after I learned about Helen Keller, and being a 2nd grader in denial that my vision was failing, I sure as hell did not want to be deaf too.  But let me tell you, being in your own quiet world can be wicked awesome.  I'm so used to having noise around me, so the experience was mind boggling, ahem, mind blowing.  So mind blowing that it distracted me for like the first 60 questions (or maybe the lack of Dunkin Donuts coffee and being scared shitless, in addition to knowing nothing), but otherwise, coolness--especially when it induced the hallucinatory sounds of DJ Bravehound's workout mix.  No joke.  Just ask Christine. Hahaha.

Now I wear earplugs ALL THE TIME.

Third... ehhh... I can't remember. Trauma discussion complete.

The more important events happened at the Barking Crab.  Crabs that Bark.  That describes me.  I wasn't thinking about going out after the simulated MBE, but since I am highly susceptible to activities that involve alcohol, I couldn't not refuse Long's offer.  So I followed along with Long, Greg, Christine, Michele, Tony, Lauren and others to sop up pitchers of Harpoon Summer and Pete's Strawberry Blonde.  Yummyness.  I don't even remember all of the ridiculousness that we harping about.  I do know a few things (accelerating to when Padilla found us once he got liberated from the USS Laboon) -- 1. I promised my favorite girl from Kentucky a pitcher of beer once our favorite Natasha Beningfield song came on; 2. I need to date someone just to be dating someone; 3. "I know that I'll be getting a beer, but I'm really thinking about P_ _ _ _." 

That last one was out loud.  Very loud.  Yes, I guess I am a Crab that Barks (even though I'm allergic to crab).

I had this really great story about the Woodlawn bus, but I'm too tired to type about it and I no longer want to share...