Nealmeister

Nope, Neal didn't fall off the face of earth

I've been thinking long and hard for a while whether I really want to blog any more. Blogging was great as a student; the medium naturally dovetailed from my daily journaling habit--a habit that I started in the 5th grade. That was 1991. This is 2009, when, more than ever, the personal lives are becoming ever more public. Social norms are changing -- at least somewhat -- and the minds of that Zuckerman kid and the rest of the crew at Facebook are foaming at the mouth, waiting for the day that we all jump the private-public divide and provide people with all of the intimate consumer data that they've so desperately wanted. When that day comes, I hope I can take part in the Facebook IPO. And when that day comes, I'll be just a little sad, because it means that shows like "The Real World" and the idea of living a private life might be bookmarks in history.

I digress. Really, since the last time I've posted, I've moved to Chicago, feeling out the new bearings, training for (and successfully running) races, playing host and feeling great being hosted. I now have a beard -- that won't be lasting for much longer -- but I think the point that I'm trying to make is that I've outgrown blogging just like I felt as though I needed to grow out of Boston.

Alas, good things are too hard to give up. So I'm going to give this whole thing another try. Rework the medium. So stay tuned.

In the meantime, here's something that will do the trick: every single status update from yours truly on Facebook between the end of August (when I left Boston) and yesterday (when Jess and I finished up our nice little urban adventure in Chicago). My life is not any more interesting as yours. The thing is, I guess I'm willing to put it out there for you to judge.

On Facebook, Neal Boyle...

1. walked 9.17 miles through Chicago with Jess Stankus today. Urban adventures=major success. (11 hours ago)
2. and Jess decided to go down and visit The Bean in Millennium Park at about Sunset. Then, we decided to walk to the Magnificent Mile, which lead to a walk to Rachie's Starbucks, and which finally resulted in a walk all the way back to Andersonville. 9.17 miles. 1320.5 calories burned. I'm impressed with ourselves. (Yesterday at 21:20)
3. will be putting some Charlie's Ale House into his belly. The sun is shining in Chicago. The Bears are owning the Browns. ND is climbing in the rankings. The occupants of 1350 West Winnemac are relishing in another amazing Halloween. So much to be happy about; so little space to express the glee.(Yesterday at 14:20)
4. Halloween has turned into something made for TV... seriously... (Sat at 22:35)
5. Go Irish! Beat Cougars! (Sat at 08:47)
6. Hands-down quote of the night @Bessye: "It's not about getting it right; it's about getting it easy." (Fri at 21:02)
7. feels and looks like he belongs on That 70s Show... and it's only B-list Halloween costume night!
8. (Fri at 18:06)
9. Evacuate the free weights floor, people! There is a Neal Boyle twin on the floor, and the real one will be damned to let the impersonator out-do him in the medicine ball push up contest... (Fri at 15:37)
10. has a yummy-smelling pumpkin... (Fri at 12:09)
11.  doing up more touristy Chicago stuff in the Loop with the East Coast girls. Sears Tower Skywalk it is!
12. (29 October at 13:22 )
13. called 312-867-5309 (29 October at 01:10)
14. This Boyle is (too shy to be) made for live Karaoke @ Cubby Bear... (28 October at 23:49)
15. @ Goose Island BrewCo w/the Boston (and VA) girls, doing up TGIW in Wrigleyville. Go Phillies!!! (28 October at 19:33)
16. Korean BBQ followed by Chicago Brauhause in Lincoln Sq = getting set up for a wicked amazing night on the far north side! (27 October at 19:28)
17. is happy that the 6-year old inside of him continues to live the dream and never grows tired of the way 2700 series Budd subway cars race along elevated tracks in the north side of Chicago...(27 October at 17:31)
18. clerked for a Bankruptcy Court judge. Is "Introduction to Federal Court" really necessary? Can someone please slam me with a Federal Rule Book? Ok, not really... but the hyperbolic Facebook nonsense is irresistible, especially during Illinois MCLEs! (27 October at 08:04)
19. earnestly awaits the arrival of Kristyn+Denise in the Windy City, but first, not without 10 more hours of Illinois CLE amazingness. If only Mitch from Old School would show up, too. Life would be nearly complete. (27 October at 00:15)
20. Oh, CTA, how you can't be trusted during rush hour. Thank God Neal got on the Red Line before it decided to run express to Lake... (26 October at 06:50)
21. wonders when the Red Line will ever roll on in to Argyle station... (26 October at 06:33)
22. thinks seasonal influenza is--like a couple of logs in the fire or a fresh Nestle Tollhouse chocolate chip cookie--a special gift from God that Neal just needs to snuggle up with and enjoy. (25 October at 23:27)
23. along the brittle treacherous bright streets / of memory comes my heart singing like / an idiot whispering like drunken man / who(at a certain corner suddenly)meets / the tall policeman of my mind. (25 October at 09:56)
24. watching the Undertones at the Notre Dame Bookstore with Kev+Jess. Booyah! (24 October at 19:43)
25. Go IRISH! Beat Eagles! (24 October at 11:52)
26. Are you questioning my badassedness? I mean have you seen my guns??? (22 October at 23:18)
27. Thoughts+Prayers are with the Hoells and the Santosuossos right now... (22 October at 10:18)
28. has got two extra BC/ND tickets, courtesy of Jess. Anyone want to make a trip from Boston and/or any Domers in need? (21 October at 20:18)
29. can rock the beard in a pinstripe suit, a form fitting shirt and a Brooks Brother tie. Bad, Neal, very very very bad (albeit, delicious, haha)! (21 October at 13:34)
30. Are you a coffee, or are you a slice of pumpkin pie? You're too delicious to be just a latte. You're pie. I love you. (20 October at 17:41)
31. is looking for another race to train for. All you runners and triathloners were right: the adrenaline rush is... addictive. (19 October at 20:19)
32. might have run the Urbanathlon, but man, oh man, that massage followed by some old school pampering needs to be scheduled ASAP. Neal=can't walk="hilarious". (19 October at 00:41)
33. Notre Dame, what a shame. Whatever, I still am crazy in love with the alma mater... (17 October at 19:34)
34. Men's Health Urbanathlon 2009. What? WHAT! Thanks to all you folks who kept me running, to all the causes that kept me inspired, and all the other runners who kept things honest. Now, it's time to celebrate Domer style. GO IRISH! BEAT TROJANS! (17 October at 12:19)
35. Here it comes. 12-mile course. 1-mile Soldier Field stadium stairclimb. 5 challenging urban bootcamp obstacles. There's only one Neal. There's only one Men's Health Urbanathlon. And holy cow, racer #2081 is going to tear her up tomorrow morning! (16 October at 16:31)
36. Based on Facebook, I gather that (a) it's blizzarding in Boston, (b) everyone's traveling to South Bend (Go Irish; Beat Trojans!) and (c) Falcon is awesome because he hid in the box and not the balloon. Me? I'm Facebooking. (16 October at 07:22)
37. and Rach finally broke down and turned on the heat. It is a little chilly in Chicago, after all... (15 October at 18:01)
38. What? Bob Saget is the voice of "How I Met Your Mother?" But I've been watching HIMYM for how many years now? Doh! Neal, oh Neal... (14 October at 23:30)  
39. ...planning on a walk through Andersonville, right after CPK and Glee. Pre-MH Race, no-caffeine, no-beer Nealski = no funski. (14 October at 20:59)
40. Woot and Woot! The Townies are headed to the Windy City come December! Go Celtics! (14 October at 12:31
41.  Illinois plates on the Corolla. Goodbye Bay State; Hello Land of Lincoln. Next up: Illinois Supreme Court swearing-in... followed by plotting a strategy to acquire a Jeep Wrangler. (13 October at 16:24)
42. Tuesday, Tuesday, so good to me... (13 October at 08:38)
43. got to Chicago just in time for the 'L' fare hikes, which seem to be whole heck of a lot less merciful than those going on at the 'T'. (12 October at 11:32)
44. ...capping off a wicked awesome, random Columbus Day weekend marked by, among other things, a Bartling visit, a visit to Das Boot, and that little 26.2 mile race with some Phillies baseball (not really sure where or when I became a Phillies fan, but it seems to work), a little more meatloaf, and whole heck of a lot of grape soda... (11 October at 23:15)
45. cheering Jim+Colleen Bartling and the St Greg's HS kids on at Mile 8 of the Chicago Marathon! [p.s.--it's 29 degrees here!!] (11 October at 07:00)
46. So, The Cranberries are playing in Chicago @ The Riviera Theatre on November 25th. Anyone want to go with Nealski? You know you want to sing along to Linger followed by Zombie... (08 October at 20:59)
47. ...with so much going down, he often wonders what really is up... (08 October at 01:12)
48. forecasting snow in Chicago on Sunday. But wait, the foliage is still (basically) green! This is penitence for Neal's shortcomings... (07 October at 21:42)
49. Alas, networking and catch-up coffees. I've got Mr Holte and Ms Martinez to thank for the plenteous rain! (07 October at 14:46)
50. is witnessing music being made @Tonic Room, 2447 N Halsted. Chicago's music scene beats Boston. Sorry, kids, the Bean just don't compare... (06 October at 22:52)
51. Life as a Corporate Attorney on sabbatical is wicked stressful, thusly, I'm off to the gym (and later, to Tonic Room on Halsted, if anyone's interested or inclined). (06 October at 16:31)
52. can't decide whether he wants to keep the faux beard or lose the faux beard. These are times when polling the Clery's TGIW crew would be necessary and appropriate. (06 October at 06:43)
53. Lie to Me, baby (and Brett Favre, grrr, you're making Lauren Lynch go madddd)! (05 October at 22:27)
54. The Bears, followed by Lake Shore run, St. A's, and then legs day @ Cheetah Gym. Perfect autumn afternoon in Chicago... (04 October at 14:09)
55. Holy crap... squeaked that one by! Go Irish! (03 October at 18:46)
56. On the Indiana Toll Road en route to the 'Bend. Go Irish! Beat Huskies! (03 October at 10:00)
57. Great job, Rio! "Now the village elders can come home [to Chicago] and take care of the kids being killed on [Chicago's] streets and focus on getting [Chicago's] schools in order..." (02 October at 12:00) ·
58. Go Cubs Go! (Hopefully no rain delay) (01 October at 18:27)
59. When in Chicago, do as Chicagoans do!?!?! (01 October at 18:16)
60. It's official— I passed the Illinois Bar. Thankfully, because of the love + support of all you friends, family, fans, and even enemies. Y'all put up with a lot this summer, including that horrible prayer for perpetual summer rain . But, alas, ring in Fergie + the Black Eyed Peas... and Go, Cubs, Go (with John, Hillary + Alan)!!! (01 October at 11:42)
61. just wants to vomit. It feels less like Christmas morning and more like the moments before the elementary school spelling bee. C'mon Illinois bar examiners; post July's results already! (01 October at 08:21)
62. scored Cubbies tickets with John, Alan and Hillary Thursday night. Pittsburgh Pirates are going down. Go, Cubs, Go! (30 September at 15:11)
63. might not be as cool as Brody Jenner, but Chicagoland bromance applications are currently being accepted. Apply herein. (29 September at 12:52)
64. Second City... let that wind blow. (28 September at 20:40)
65. apparently swapped hurricanes for tornadoes. When in the midwest, do what the midwesterners do, one must suppose. Good times. Now how about those fried cheese kurds at Culvers? That sounds like a better midwestern treat (and a half)...(28 September at 00:15)
66. Old St. Pat's or St. A's? This church shopping thing is getting complicated... (27 September at 12:29)
67. Jesus Christ, God Loves Us! GO IRISH! BEAT BOILMAKERS! This is what college football is ALL ABOUT!!!! (26 September at 22:28)
68. Another Urbanathlon training run. Mostly flat, but with some rolling hills and also with good variety of surfaces: asphalt, concrete, gravel, sand and grass.(26 September at 11:16) ·
69. Go Irish! Beat Boilmakers! Go Hokies! Beat Hurricanes! Go Bulls! Beat 'noles! (26 September at 07:58)
70. "my crocs make that manageable." (25 September at 20:46)
71. + Rachel present Friday Night Game Nite. 1350 W Winnemac #3W, Andersonville. Be there or square. You know you want in... so bring it already! [ps--GO HOKIES!] (25 September at 17:35)
72. Met my match at Cheetah Gym whilst dirty-doubling: the dude (yes, dude) who planned on using the 125 lb. dumbbells and kindly asked if he could use my bench. First off: yes, sir, you may. Second off: Steroids much?!? Third off: You can kill me with one swipe of your paw. That would hurt. I take the steroids comment back... (25 September at 14:52)
73. Just found out that Tedy Bruschi is half-Filipino. Guess what? So is Neal! The day is officially complete... (24 September at 22:10)
74. will be saying 'Aloha' to Hamburger Mary's with the Castrop sistahs and Ms. Lauck. If you want in too, hit the digits... (24 September at 18:06)
75. can no longer listen to The Beatles. They used to remind Neal of Sunday Brunch with the Boyles... or even "Across the Universe." Those are good, nostalgic, feel-good associations. Now, The Beatles are just associated with being stuck in the makeshift office (read: Andersonville Starbucks) and the baristas that keep on glaring in his direction (read: sexual harrassment). Yarghhhhh! (24 September at 15:25)
76. is marketing his goods+services to all of Chicagoland. (23 September at 09:01)
77. thinks that 80s music after a night of Taco Tuesdays is the perfect way to end the 21st day in Chicago.... (22 September at 23:58)
78. is listening to Joni Mitchell, drafting cover letters, scheduling coffees, and plotting on how this Illinois Sub-Teacher's and Prelim Teaching Certificate should get used... Oh, and figuring which passport beer should get consumed tonite @ Crew (disappointed that he can't have another Rogue Dead Guy). (22 September at 14:17)
79. misses having in-unit laundry. But at least he's just figured out his next photography project! (22 September at 12:28)
80. Hospital Scrubs, Orange Crush, Chocolate Ice Cream, Elios Pizza + watching "Role Models." Neal may just have morphed into a chicita... (21 September at 23:20)
81. Didn't think anyone could beat Meg Hughes' "Tour de France" spin class, but alas, in Chicago reigns a spin instructor who has fine-tuned that form of torture... (21 September at 19:47)
82. Funny how whether you're in Boston or Chicago, the Red Line always has got its (endearing AND annoying) quirks. Woot public transit! (21 September at 08:56)
83. Bear Down, Chicago Bears! Craziness... (20 September at 18:18)
84. Beautiful fall day in Chicago=perfect sweatshirt weather, perfect Parish "shopping" weather, and perfect flag football weather... (20 September at 09:58)
85. Thank you, Lord. Irish fans will gladly take that (lucky+undeserved) ND win over MSU. Makes for an easier ride back to Chicago, too... (19 September at 20:27)
86. Got an extra ND/MSU ticket. Anyone want it? Let Neal know. Go Irish! Beat Spartans! (19 September at 10:48)
87. Oh, Notre Dame. What beautiful things my eyes see before me. Go Irish! Beat Spartans! (19 September at 10:24)
88. Go Irish! Beat Spartans! (19 September at 07:34)
89. is a tad homesick+missing boston, at least... (19 September at 02:38)
90. Chicago-style dinner party=success. Thank God (and Jewel-Osco)! (19 September at 00:28)
91. and Rach are hauling @$$ trying to get this dinner together. Woot woot! Go Game Night in Chicago!!! (18 September at 19:36)
92. After seeing "Across the Universe," rereading "The Year the Title Forgot to Come," and partaking in bike adventures w/the Citymate, I think MaryBeth Burke was right: being the candle in "Beauty the Beast, the Musical" is a noteworthy goal (even more so than being staff@ Crew). (18 September at 01:51)
93. Lake Shore-A'ville-Lincoln Sq run: 8.25 miles. Clark/Foster to Montrose Hrbr to Hollywood Beach to Winnemac Pk. 30 days to the Mens Health Race. Run, Neal, Run! (17 September at 19:14)
94. That's right, there're big waves, seagulls+plenty of sand at Lake Michigan. Oh, and a beach at the end of my street. Chicago=wicked amazing. Neal approves... (16 September at 14:42)
95. The Jehovah Witnesses found me at Starbucks. They are aggressive. I think they were sent. Someone confirm or deny these suspicions! (15 September at 09:56)
96. Good Morning, Chicago. The sun has yet to rise, but somehow, somewhy, Neal is already rarin' to go. Not sure what's going on here, but let it roll... (15 September at 05:17)
97. "You're too stupid to have a good time." Thank you, Patrick Swayze. RIP. (14 September at 23:19)
98. Tom Brady is back tonite! Anyone else up for Monday Night Football @T's Bar & Grill in Andersonville? Hit the digits... (14 September at 13:41)
99. Spending the morning working out of the Starbucks in Andersonville. How yuppie cliche of Neal... (14 September at 08:56)
100. Lauren Lynch wins, and she has Jay Cutler to thank for that. Grrrrrrr... (13 September at 22:50)
101. Inaugural Lake Shore Run. Clark/Foster to Belmont Harbor and back. Let's see how Chicago's trails treat old Neal's feet... (13 September at 17:58)
102. Got it, folks. Bear Down. Off to O'Hare with Lady Martinez... (13 September at 15:21)
103. Since I've moved Chicago, no drop of rain has fallen sky. Keep the blue skies shining down on me (oh, and Bear Down, Chicago Bears!)... (13 September at 14:43)
104. En route to U2... at Soldier's Field! (12 September at 19:43)
105. = p.o.'d Irish fan. Armando Allen was in bounds. Big Ten refs, Neal's got a bone to pick with you. (12 September at 18:19)
106. Go Irish! Muck Fichigan! (12 September at 00:14)
107. Calling Allen out of bounds was the worst official review I've ever seen. (12 September at 15:22)
108. The quest for a desk continues... and all these furniture stores in Andersonville do the trick (at least for ideas)! (10 September at 18:03)
109. Whether in Boston or Chicago, still finding myself listening to KISS-FM. Breaks up assembling all this stuff from Ikea... Oh, Neal! (10 September at 12:47)
110. The Chronicles of Narnia wardrobe is taking forever to reassemble.. Lucy better pop on out when I'm done with some Turkish Delight! (10 September at 14:08)
111. T's Bar+Restaurant in Andersonville w/the Castrop Sistahs! (09 September at 21:53)
112. can't get Green Day's "21 Guns" out of his head. Thank you, Mix 101.9... (07 September at 23:34)
113. Wine cups? Yes, Chicago! (06 September at 22:49)
114. after dropping Will+Chris off at O'Hare, this kid is kicking off his freshman year in the Windy City by unpacking (because boxes don't unpack themselves...) (06 September at 10:09)
115. Went up for push ups for 21 (again), courtesy Lynch. Irish 21, Wolfpack, 0. (05 September at 16:00)
116. Went up for push ups for 7, courtesy Lynch. Irish 7, Wolfpack, 0. (05 September at 15:22)
117. Go Irish! Beat Wolf Pack! (Obviously, in South Bend for the day...) (05 September at 10:29)
118. Crew in Uptown... with the Comiskey Field hopefuls... (04 September at 13:48)
119. ...hoping someone wants to help a Nealski and has got an extra ND-Nevada ticket... (04 September at 11:53)
120. is scouring for tickets for the White Sox/Red Sox game. And 1500 others things to be done in Chicago right now. (04 September at 08:53)
121. "#220, you have no game. But there's something cute and adorable about you. Make a move. --#113." Alas, life at Durkin's. Definitely an "I" + not an "E"... (04 September at 01:09)
122. Hopleaf with Chris+Will. Amen for Andersonville (which=new home) (03 September at 23:09)
123. made it to Chicago. Let the fun begin! (02 September at 23:52)
124. En route to Chicago, via I-90, with Chris+Will. ETA, 8:45pm CDT. So long, Boston. Neal will always love that dirty water. (02 September at 03:42)
125. Boston will always be home, but heading west, oh boy, this has never felt so good and so right. Chicago or bust, baby! (01 September at 06:14)
126. Oh, move to Chicago, Neal hopes his arrival to your grand city is nothing like his departure from Boston, which has been nothing short of wicked wicked WICKED aggravating. (31 August at 17:22)

Grendel's Den (I KNEW I knew it from somewhere!)

Jess and I trekked over to Harvard Square to meet up with Janine, Paula and Aaron for some late night snacks and well-deserved pints of Original Sin Cider.  Of course, we showed up at Grendel's Den (after parking on Church Street, the site of an apparent water main break), ready for some good, live college music.  Now, I've gone from lame to insane lately, so it was nice to just kind of chill and have one pint with a quesadilla, and have the singer/guitarplayers make fun of us a-la acoustic cafe, instead of molesting us a-la columbus ave karaoke.  Not that I'm hating, I'm just saying.  Plus, the eye candy was very gentle on the eyes.  Just saying there, too.

Now, what happens when you get a bunch of law school students, attorneys, and D.A. staff involved?  You remember that, in land use class, you've read something about Grendel's Den.  And you're right.  In 1982, Grendel's won an historic court case in the US Supreme Court, which enabled Grendel's to use their liquor license and changed existing laws in 9 states.  Read the decision by clicking here. [Larkin v. Grendel's Den, Inc., 459 U.S. 116 (1982)]

Yuletide Sightings Take ___

I do have beautiful friends, in particular, S & J, who are not only beautiful looking, but are among the nicest (and funniest) folks I know.  Good people do survive law school, folks.  S & J are among the bunch who have not turned into spiteful, corporate a-hole attorneys who have sold out on the public interest and now only help the private good.  Oh wait, let me not speak too fast... that's me!  The couple of honor:

Awww, how cute.  Now, Sonya & James were really cool and savvy about their engagement party.  No gifts; the gift of our presence was enough for them (awww).  And lo!  Engagement party = Christmas party (awww sweet!).  Now how about that?  It meant only one thing: I could leave the firm early (7:30pm) and stop billing on a Friday night and instead, have me some fun!

Ok, I might have broken off a piece of the gingerbread house.  After all, the house was there to be eaten by humans like... me!  Then, of course, the rest of the boys annihilate the rest of the house.  How's the trouble maker?  Of course, me...

Finally, what's a party if I'm not hanging out with all of the girls at some point or another? Honest to gawd, I was not intruding in this picture! Colleen and Simone wanted me there, I swear!!

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/]

[So Long], Sweet Summer

I got an unexpected call from Barbara this morning. I was in the middle of finishing up drafting a release at work and found myself really looking for an excuse to take a 6 minute break. Barbara became it. And I was wicked delighted to take her call.

As things turned out, I cleared my early afternoon schedule to get Chacarero with Barbara and her dog. Even though the original Chacerero is now closed (victim to the filene's shuttering/downtown crossing gentrification), we made do. After a bit of waiting at Rico's, we hit up the patio at the Boston Anthenaeum to soak up the mid-summer splendor that is

Boston

. So, looking over the king's burial ground -- straight for our alma mater law school and the urban mountain that is the financial district -- I let barbara do most of the talking. We kind of relished over that feeling that you have inside of you when the bar exam is done. We chatted about conservatives and Gordon Brown. I nostalgized about how I felt when I cleared out my law school locker, and she told me about the relief she felt when she could get out of that law school.

I realized, though, that I really do miss academia... Or at least the freedom of having "hang out" time while getting things accomplished. Of course, that feeling is only amplified by the sunny weather and New England summer, by people wearing cargo pants and t-shirts and reef flip flops, to everyone else's stories of frozen margarita happy hours oceanside... on a Tuesday night. I decided, then, that I wanted winter to come. Soon.

Just think people. Christmas is less than 5 months away....

Fast Forward Rewind: Summer 2007

[Gate at Nate & Sue's Family Cottage, Little Compton, RI]

It is really hard to believe that Summer 2007 has nearly half-way completed.  I'd like to think that I'm a glass is half-full guy, but this summer, I'm thinking that more than half of the things that I wanted to do won't happen.  The second rafting trip up in Maine has already fallen through; trips to Hampton Beach or surfing at Salisbury or beach bumming on Plum Island have been talked about; and my sister and Chris are moving to Ohio next week. 
One thing is for certain, though: for the times that I have been able to enjoy the summer and everything it's got to offer, the times have been high-flying and wicked neat.  Jackman 2007 was full of hits.  Having Hillary and Travis come out from Illinois and Ohio -- only to partake in scorpion bowls, amble about Perkins Cove in Ogunquit, and ride the rides at Canobie Lake (all those pics I really do have to upload soon).

Nothing, though, kicked things off better than heading down to Little Compton for what's becoming an annual trek to Rhode Island.  Sue finally posted her pictures.  Now, I can quasi-relive inside jokes of "that's what she said" or nostalgize about my constant napping.

What's cool about Rhode Island, though, is that it's got everything you'd expect in Maine, plus a tinge of what you'd expect in the Carolinas.  I guess that's uniquely Rhode Island.... and now, I'll let the pictures say the rest.

Some hosts are great.  Others are awesome.  But these guys are wicked awesome!  Plus, they're photogenic, as evidenced by yet another glamour shot down in Sakonnet Point.

Peace and tranquility.  Little Compton Harbor.  You'd never guess, though, that it was an abnormally chilly Memorial Day weekend...

They still got it in them.  Able to walk without blackberries.  Able to laugh at wicked stupid jokes.  Able to not stare at the camera during ST's candid shots.... well, some of us like to smirk a bit!

Or, in realizing that you're from Maine, perfect your ability to have your eyes shut when the camera lady's saying "the sky is perfect.  Don't blink on me!"  Oh well.  I guess this makes the picture a bit more memorable...

I'm beginning to realize, more and more in these contemplative pictures that involve one of my 27 hoodies and one of their 27 pairs of sunglasses, that (a) I really like my hoodies, and (b) I really need to get contacts so that I can finally wear sunglasses.

And, oh yeah, as time goes on, I'm realizing that I look less and less like my mom, and more and more like my dad.  Wow.

Re: emails from friends

The email message:

It's weird how reading your reply to George made me realize how I never hear you talk about Notre Dame that much anymore. Either corporate indentured servitude is stifling your nostalgia or I'm just not around you in a social setting that much anymore!

Nealmeister's response:

Oh, I do think about it a lot. I think about Notre Dame, and the ocean, and the woods in Maine, my parents and Sunday morning bruch, and that four of swords card from the tarrot card deck four years ago (or five summers ago). I think I'm just not around many people in a social setting anymore (unfortunately), and as such, all of the nostalgia gets kept to myself. The things that make me laugh with my friends, the things that I really love discussing, the things that I really love spending my time doing, there's really just not that time anymore. It's somewhat sad; those were all the things that made up my personality. But it's amazing how once you get to the real world, your "personality" no longer becomes relevant. Well, at least in the corporate world. It's all about cash. Nobody really much cares about what I think (or the brilliant things in life, for that matter, like the ways clouds form on the eve of a thunderstorm in the middle of the summer; or how beautiful the congregation sounds at church when they try to sing, even though they're somewhat out of key and sound somewhat shrill; or the sound of the tires to my corolla when I'm driving through the less congested roads around the Middlesex Fells), unless it has to do with a transaction. Which is hard. I'm sounding like a frustrated writer...

The reply back:

Damn, that was intense! Brilliant! I just had to check and see if you still had it in you. But I hope I didn't open a can of worms on you.

A "Devil Wears Prada" Moment

I know that there's quite a number of blog posts that I need to catch up with.  But in the meantime, this is going to work.  It's 10:17PM and I'm still at work.  Indeed, I got to desk at 7:33AM.  I procrastinated for a bit at around 9AM, emailing back and forth with Sue.  And then for about a hour around 7:55PM, I went to the gym.  Now, I'm back here, at Club 34, still being a corporate associate.

Sometimes, I wonder why I slave away at all of this the way I do.  I understand that driving forces exist, but I wonder how much of it is self-imposed (read: still type-A, even after Boston Latin School, excessive undergrad drinking, and even more excessive law school and bar review drinking).  At the same time... I just want to, you know, "do good," and "enjoy the river," and "be with the people I love."  Like, how is corporate law relevant to all the things, deep down inside, I really want to do?  Is is really?  Move to Maine... alas, that's the answer!

But is that even a statement?  Against the MAN?

From that little thought, I found myself thinking about The Devil Wears Prada.  I think I've blogged about this before, but tonight, in the wake of my review, in the wake of being kicked in the ass, in the spirit of believing that every pup attorney needs to get his (or her) ass kicked in a mighty fashion before being worthy of anything, I thought of Miranda Priestly. 

"You go to your closet and you select out, oh I don't know, that lumpy blue sweater, for instance, because you're trying to tell the world that you take yourself too seriously to care about what you put on your back. But what you don't know is that that sweater is not just blue, it's not turquoise, it's not lapis, it's actually cerulean. You're also blindly unaware of the fact that in 2002, Oscar De La Renta did a collection of cerulean gowns. And then I think it was Yves St Laurent, wasn't it, who showed cerulean military jackets? And then cerulean quickly showed up in the collections of 8 different designers. Then it filtered down through the department stores and then trickled on down into some tragic Casual Corner where you, no doubt, fished it out of some clearance bin. However, that blue represents millions of dollars and countless jobs and so it's sort of comical how you think that you've made a choice that exempts you from the fashion industry when, in fact, you're wearing the sweater that was selected for you by the people in this room. From a pile of stuff."

--Miranda Priestly, played by Meryl Streep, in The Devil Wears Prada

Touche.  Indeed.  The arguments, the thoughts, even TDWP, it all is circular.  Eventually, that chick in TDWP gets where she needs to be... and I, I'm still listening to John Mayer and The Fray in my office.

Go figure.

The time is now 10:29.  There's to .2 hours that I cannot bill!

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...

Livin' it up raw

Well, Jess is done with 4 out of 5 law school first year finals.  I stayed up until 6AM working.  So how do we celebrate?  By taking the Corolla out to Medford and hitting up (a) Kappy's, to get part 1 of all of the fine liquors and beers for "Flippin' for First Year Fun", and (b) go to BJs to get some... now we won't go there.

Roomie field trips always happen to bring on a great deal of excitement.  They don't happen enough, but when they do, there's sure to be a few laughs.  Take going to Anastacia's (a/k/a "Our Trip to Somerville").  Who knew that the Corolla (not mine, hers) could survive falling into a ditch?  Who knew that when a lane is marked "Right Turn Only," you're not supposed to go Left or go straight?  Apparently, I didn't.  And of course, I start hollaring back, or something like that.

Anyway, Kappy's.  The last time we were there, it was September and we were returning about $20 worth of empties.  There was sludge on the floor, and we both were wearing flip flops.  So, of course, true to form, today we walk into Kappy's both wearing flip flops.  For about point 5 seconds, this feeling of disgust overcame our bodies.  I myself was a bit mortified.  But for a second, Jess had no way of knowing, because I was humming the "I'm so mortified" song inside my head.

A trip to Kappy's or BJ's is not complete without a designated pusher... and push along we did.  Tons of Sam Summer.  Tons of Twisted Tea.  Tons of Harpoon and UFO.  Then, we came upon a really crazy concoction: Smirnoff Raw Green Tea.  WTF????  Well, we said WTF so many times that we bought a case.  I've done the pretasting, and it's un-f***ing believable.  It's going to make "Flippin' for First Year Fun" a bit dangerous, and I think it may put happy punch to shame.  But so what.  If it's good enough for the wasps on the MV, it must be good enough for me...

In re: Property

My roommate -- and a handful of other goods friends -- are going through their first year law school exams.  I've got a good chuckle out of "reviewing" with them.  And I've got a good chuckle knowing that they'll finally understand where all of the law school "inside jokes" are coming from.  So, in light of all of the good laughs that I've got out of "reviewing" with some of them, I've decided to share you the crazy facebook action that ensued last night... when I was 80 percent sleep deprived :)

Neal Boyle is proclaiming to all of his first years: I won BLACKACRE!

Updated on Tuesday

The responses (of course, you have to read bottom to top):

Caroline C*nw*y (Suffolk) wrote at 10:54pm on May 1st, 2007 hahaha that's awesome!! nice catch on Greenacres... i'm going to go with a tenancy for a term through the summer, if possible. end date august 31, 2007. hopefully i'm not mixing up my tenancies. which is entirely possible. Wall-to-Wall - Write on Caroline's Wall - Message - Delete

Neal Boyle wrote at 10:49pm on May 1st, 2007 Greenacres is the place to be!! Unfortunately, I own Greenacre too. I own all acres. Statute of Neal. They don't teach that in property class... You could lease Greenacre, though. Would you like a periodic tenancy? A tenancy at will? Tenancy of terms? Tenancy by the entirety? Oh wait, scratch the last one... Wall-to-Wall - Write on My Wall - Delete

Caroline C*nw*y (Suffolk) wrote at 10:30pm on May 1st, 2007 can i have Greenacre? Wall-to-Wall - Write on Caroline's Wall - Message - Delete

Neal Boyle wrote at 10:17pm on May 1st, 2007 dukeminier is my hero.  literally. Wall-to-Wall - Write on My Wall - Delete

Ysmael F*ns*c* (Notre Dame) wrote at 10:01pm on May 1st, 2007 lol... we're such dorks (have fun slaving away as i prepare to do the same in a couple of years...) Wall-to-Wall - Write on Ysmael's Wall - Message - Delete

Neal Boyle wrote at 9:58pm on May 1st, 2007 not if you're in a jurisdiction where i've statutorily eliminated all adverse possession claims... take that COAH OCEAN!! Blackacre's in my chain of title!! It's mine!! Wall-to-Wall - Write on My Wall - Delete

Ysmael F*ns*c* (Notre Dame) wrote at 9:52pm on May 1st, 2007 not after i make it mine through adverse possession! (this message satisfies the "hostile" element) Wall-to-Wall - Write on Ysmael's Wall - Message - Delete

One Month Later

Well, Jess kindly informed me that it's been a month since I've last blogged.  I've been meaning to, I swear.  But somewhere between friends moving, and work, and Easter, and just being tired, I've only been able to draft what I've been feeling and thinking.  All of those squibs, and nothing that has been presentable.  Indeed, I think If I had posted all of the stuff that I've written between Quiznos and now, people might think it's all one inside joke.

Then again, some people think this IS one big inside joke.  Maybe, the joke's on me!

Needless to say, I will backdate.  In between March 27th and now, I've had some great posts.  The writer's voice inside my head has whispered tones of love, loss, laughter, and nostalgia.  The nostalgia, perhaps, has been the greatest force working inside of me... I notice that happens when I'm under either a lot of stress (think: work) or remembering (think: london).  Hillary and Ys and Crystal, among others, know full well what that means: "Neal descriptions" and the sounds of Sarah McLachlan wafting in the background.

I guess, too, that I felt motivated to write again because there's all these weird new beginnings marked by remembrances of old ends around me now.  Tomorrow, I make the last move out of the bankruptcy corner.  I'd be a liar if I didn't say that it marks a bittersweet feeling in my heart.  I thought that, by now, I'd be over my post 3-13 moments.  But I think I'm still feeling like I'll come back to work and the bankruptcy corner will be intact again.  One can only hope, I guess.  Not that I don't like Private Equity or anything.  I guess really miss Business Finance and Restructuring.  I miss the people, and the bankruptcy code, and having a specialty that is marked by equity and contracts and fairness and finances.  I don't know of many other specialty fields that could bring so many quirky ideas together.  No wonder it (being Bankruptcy) was a fit for me.

So, among other things, here's to the Bankruptcy Corner.  To A.T., C.M., A.C., K.M., and N.B.  And here's to blogging again. 

I owe you guys all of the updates from the past month now...

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/

Who said it?

"I'm not a scientist. That's why I don't want to have to deal with global warming, to tell you the truth."

You can find the answer here: NPR: Environment: High Court Hears Its First Global Warming Case. Not that the post, or the message from Matt, is politically charged in any way, shape, or form.  Note to self: don't buy that beach house on Salisbury Beach (or any beach in New England) any time soon.

Happy New Years Everyone!  I'm going to be disappearing for a reunion for a few days.  Be safe, drink much, and come back home alive on January 1st.

Just one last say: I laugh at my post from the same time last year.  When I was a student, and life was, oh, so much more footloose and fancy-free....

31 December 2005

Happy New Year, Folks (Aloha 2006!)

Well people, I'm anticipating that I won't be posting for the next few days, so have a wicked awesome New Year, where ever you are!  I'm thinking that 2006 will be a life-altering year for me (but then again, what years aren't?). 

I figured, to gloss over my past youthful indiscretions, I present to you my first-ever attempt to buy a week-long Tube pass for the London Underground when I was studying in the United Kingdom.  To naivete and adventure; trial and error; and to never buying a day pass when I really want a week pass!

Aloha 2005, and Aloha 2006!

Well people, I'm anticipating that I won't be posting for the next few days, so have a wicked awesome New Year, where ever you are!  I'm thinking that 2006 will be a life-altering year for me (but then again, what years aren't?). 

I figured, to gloss over my past youthful indiscretions, I present to you my first-ever attempt to buy a week-long Tube pass for the London Underground when I was studying in the United Kingdom.  To naivete and adventure; trial and error; and to never buying a day pass when I really want a week pass!

Aloha 2005, and Aloha 2006!

Happy New Year, Folks (Aloha 2006!)

Well people, I'm anticipating that I won't be posting for the next few days, so have a wicked awesome New Year, where ever you are!  I'm thinking that 2006 will be a life-altering year for me (but then again, what years aren't?). 

I figured, to gloss over my past youthful indiscretions, I present to you my first-ever attempt to buy a week-long Tube pass for the London Underground when I was studying in the United Kingdom.  To naivete and adventure; trial and error; and to never buying a day pass when I really want a week pass!

Aloha 2005, and Aloha 2006!

Today's an Adam Vinatieri Three-fer

So the Colts play the Pats tonight, and I'm hauling ass trying to get as much work done as possible so that I can at least do stuff in front of the television (and with some warm apple pie, courtesy of party animal, e-co, and e-co's new love) so that I can actually get to watch some of the game (unlike the notre dame game yesterday--where I was being really lame and watched on ESPN gamecast).

The Colts and the Pats just bring a smile to my face.  Everyone knows that I'm all about College Football.  I could really give two shits about NFL ball.  Most of the time, if I had to chose between being locked in the library at school and watching pro ball, I'd willingly go to the library... and stay there.  But the Colts and the Pats.  Maybe all the "spiteful hating" that I've learned to love to do has brought me to love watching this match-up for the sheer comedy because it's so, well, drama-filled (as I MTV-ize pro ball).

Take Peyton.  It's always a ton of fun watching him squirm like a kid in junior high.  So whiney.  So much like Rudy when he was playing football on the lot.  I just love laughing at him, and actually, I'd really love it if CMart could come up from DC and watch with me so that we could hate on together.

There's tons more to hate on, but I'm feeling like a bad broken record.  Let's go for the Adam Vinatieri roll call today, because he's the reason I'm actually blogging right now instead of drafting pleadings.  And note, out of my need for nostalgia, this is brought to you by Papa Gino's...

"It's good!" ... I actually passed the Massachusetts Bar, thanks to the likes of the brain trust, multi-colored flashcards, the loverly staff at BarBri (especially Paula), Professor Judge and Dean Keenan (for helping me call two questions on the essay portion), Robert Feinburg, Esq., my mom and dad, and friends and lovers and fwbs, and viewers like you.  You can find evidence of my passage here.

"It's good!" ... I've donated more of my income since September to charitable purposes than I have to any other combined personal cause.  Thank you Microsoft Money for auditing my checkbook.  But with charity comes love.  That's why I'm hanging the autographed Snow Ball picture of Adam Vinatieri that I won in an auction at Best of Charlestown in my office at work.

"It's good!" ... because I really could use some Papa Gino's pizza right now, but let's face it, the Triple Play and Adam Vinatieri's pizza deal last year were better than Teddy Bruschi's ...

"It's good!"  ... ok, enough.  I've stopped laughing enough now.  But I do have to announce, my son, Neal, will become a kicker as well.  I couldn't have him be a pouty bitch like the other QBs in my life, could I?

Ok, this needs to stop.  Now.

So Long Sweet Summer

I couldn't help turning around from my computer today to notice that it was absolutely gorgeous outside up here in Boston.  Totally a Dashboard Confessional, from a floor high above Downtown Boston.  From what I hear, it was so summery and warm and such a good day to be out on the Boston Common, grab a Chacarero sandwich, or for the lucky few, have a glorious beach day.   But oh well, that's for my honeymooners I guess... no more ho activities and ho tendencies for me...

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.

To the girl on the Orange Line

...you had your PMBR giant red book on your lap, and what I completely recognized as Rossi's Evidence BarBri handout in your hand.  I would know; I'm kind of having an Evidence problem, and I was reading that too while I was elliptical-ling on the elliptical machine at BSC. 

I just wanted to say thanks. 

I don't know if I can communicate this effectively without premising this with the askew background of "Neal Nostalgia" mode.  But it was just one of those things that only seem to happen on an Orange Line train when you can throw your head back and vege.  When I was getting off at Community College, that little bit of recognition, the kind of crook-ed interested smile, the finger point to the book, the "Good Luck" just really made a difference.  You don't understand.  I was really bumming out once I got to Haymarket and hopped on the train.  I wanted that BarBri Conviser to go away.  Something about the mix of Hanson, the Roots, Hard-Fi, and Virginia Coalition -- mixed with those anxious bar review emotions -- was settling in weird ways.

I'm all about attacking this biatch again, though.  I really meant it when I said good luck.  We can use as much of it as possible I guess...

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...

annals of smart decisions (bar day 39)

Well for starters, today in Bunker Hill Day and my roommate Christian's birthday.  Good times!  The bum's turning 25 today!  In Montana!  In the Air Force!  You know that you're lucky when you're a New Yorker in the Air Force turning 25 in Montana...

Anyway, among the smart "moderation" decisions of bar prep came at the whim of Drew and Ro.  Today was the Revere Moves! Road Race.  Nice flat 5-mile run along America's First Public Beach.  Or, that's how it was put out there at.  Let no one tell you otherwise: if, in a 26 hour period, you've crammed more evidence and property into your face than any normal human being AND drank like a champ at a kegger THEN at four cheeseburgers because they were tasty, FOLLOWED BY a nap AND THEN a 5-mile fun run on America's First Public Beach, you "CAN" run.

Scratch that--I felt like I was going to die.

The first mile was fun.  I felt like a freakin' champ!  I like booked it from the starting point to Kelly's Roast Beef.  Life was good.  Twenty-eight Massachusetts State Troopers lined the road happily taking their overtime.  Elder Italian folks and Brazilian youngens cheered on.  Then, life got somber.  People in their Revere-esque driveways scowled at us because we were ruining their ability to take the Buick out of the driveway.  But let's stay positive--every once and a while, you'd get race volunteers cheering you on, which was cool, because if you're running for anyone, running for the mothers and kids over Revere sounds like a worthy cause to me!

... mile 3.  Still keeping pace with the cop from the Boston Police Runner's Club.  Life be good.  I be good.  Oh wait, this be not good.  Upchucking.  Cheeseburgers.  Through my nose.  Nastiness...

I ended up finishing though.  The last mile, I started singing Britney Spears to myself, out loud: "my loneliness is killing me" I kept on repeating.   People started cheering.  I started running faster, harder, Scooter!    Revere, yo!  I be running yo!  Keep going yo!  Do it for the massachusetts bar exam yo!  Do it for the 8 year old kids throwing water on you yo!

40:22 it was.  Not bad for puking halfway through ;-)

All I could really do in the end is laugh...

So, God Bless Paula Franzese and her excellent BarBri lecture on Massachusetts property.  I laughed with her on Friday (FSDPOR and all of the hip hop references), I got mad at her yesterday (she was still funny but I just want to sleep), and by the end of "today," when I was on the Orange Line shuttle, I was really glad that she told us to keep our chins up (eternal optimism--through all this shit, there shall be ponies).

I'm just going to get straight to the point.  I had my first Massachusetts Bar Review meltdown.  Reviewing all this stuff is fine.  It's reminiscent of trodding along to that All American Rejects song entitled "Move Along."  Yeah, it's all miserable.  But yeah, we all have got to do it and we've all been cracking jokes at it the best we can.

For some stupid reason though, between not calling friends who I should be calling back, thinking about friends who have since passed, and the monsoon weather, I finally had enough today when I got that first BarBri essay back that was just a little sub par.  Everyone else seemed to be getting 5's but lo, not me.  Scored what rhymes with three.  I know what it means--I've got shit to do--but that really doesn't matter when you're walking alone, listening to your iPod (which is just loaded which wicked depressing music on your "top 25" list), and everyone in Boston--from the front of Suffolk Law School's grand facade, through city hall plaza, and down to the Orange Line shuttle--seemed pretty happy under a cloudless post-sunset sky.  When you're having a fashion crisis for the day.  When you're not sure why you're fighting, at least inwardly, with family members.  When you miss your uncle.  When you really want to be riding on a rollercoaster at Canobie Lake Park and eating soft serve.  When you'd rather be doing anything BUT hauling a frickin' Conviser Mini Review.  When you had nightmares about Criminal Law the night before.

So basically, when I'm waiting for the walking man at New Congress Street to appear, I just started balling like a 12-year-old.  I didn't know what to do, but it just felt wicked good.  Sometimes you need to cry, and I realized that tonight, I just needed to be man enough to do it and not care.

I am going to fuck the bar exam UP!  You kicked me in the balls, but I am back up.  I can take your haterade.  I will fight back like a psycho!  I will kick it to the ground.  Bring it SUCKAZZZZZ!!!!!!!!

That's why the picture from the Tonic Room with Hill & Laura is up there.  I'm going to gas mask this shit.... biatches!  And, tomorrow, I'm going to buy the music Sassy has recommended to me... TYSyB!  No more depressing Coldplay and Radiohead for me on the iPod.  It is BANNED!

Once the Orange Line shuttle started speeding over the Boston Harbor, I just started laughing.  How DRAMATIC!  I am my own drama queen.  I can't believe I started crying like I was in my own Lifetime made for TV movie.  But the scene would have been great.  "The Exam."  I can see it now.  Right up there with "Coal Miners the Musical."

Anonymous Lawyer

Praise Jesus, the Jeremy Blachman book is finally making its way to the market.  Freak Harry Potter after the Bar Exam; I'm going to pick this thing up and just read.  Sure, I'll be blowing $25.  But who cares.  The going rate for Glannon's Civ Pro E&E is like $36 so this can't be bad.  Anyway, the book.  Everyone should go buy it.

As things go, I love the blog (although I don't nearly read it as much as I would like to); it earned a special place in my heart the day it hated on Suffolk University Law School.  I get some good laughs out of it every now and again. 1L's at Suffolk becoming 2L's, visit Anonymous Law Firm LLP.  I heard they're hiring in Symplicity/OCI Phase 1, so hurry on on before it's all too late....

Honestly, though... thinking about law school and all of stuff that went on, Anonymous Lawyer was just a good way to really laugh about things.  Something along the lines of hanging out in the dining hall and annotating the pictures in the Improper Bostonian, being bright eyed and bushy tailed first years with Greg and Janine on the night before our winter Property mid-year, or getting Chacarero sandwiches to eat on the Boston Common (and hate on protesters protesting whatever they're protesting).  Who knows... memories... alas...

Anyway, rambling again.  I have a plan for a certain friend that will entail a phone call every other week.  There's only one other person I've instituted this plan for.  So we'll see how it works...

Random Rambling for a not-so-random Friday Night in (Day 54)

Well, one great thing about Bar Review is that it gives me a good excuse to be "weak" or "lame."  Like tonight... Friday night in monsoon-trodden Boston M-A... and right now, I am feeling like a wicked punk for punking out on my friends... I was supposed to go to Harpoon Fest to see Guy Smiley and drink tons of UFO and Harpoon Summer with Mike, Matt and what I now call the "British Gang."

In reality, my liver and body is saying more alcohol.  I've been totally rallying since the end of finals (May 11), with some intermittent "Super-Neal" experiences in between.  So, I've just needed to stay in and I totally blamed it on Bar Review.  "BarBri by morning and PMBR multiple choice questions by afternoon are nauseating" I said.  You're reading this now... but then again, you probably knew the deal.

Maybe to make up for things, I'll just have Hill and Alan visit out here next beginning of June, like Memorial Day on.  Then we can do Harpoon Fest immediately after Chicago Beer Fest... I'll buy the Harpoon Tokens.

Anyway, the cool thing about being around on a Friday is that I got to kind of do the Charlestown thing for once.  Studied at the Charlestown Branch (and other CYACers--like Dan--were studying for the CFA test).  Got a sub from Jenny's.  Heckled my brother and his friends while they painted their vehicle for the Soap Box Derby.  Felt completely special around my nephew Connor, who thinks I'm completely awesome because I make paper airplanes for him, and listen to his stories about making Ramen noodles in his training potty. 

All these feel good feelings.  I think the whole sentiment reignited itself when I was back at Boston Latin last night.  Yeah, it was 108 degrees in the Auditorium.  But heck, it was just great to see people again.  I've never been good at keeping in touch... so I welcomed "coming home."  Too bad I punked out last night too (I didn't end up at Doyle's), but oh well...

Feel good random point #2 revolves around Connor.  He's perhaps the only human being who gets really excited when I walk through the door.  "Neall!"  His 25-month-year-old hands and arms flail up into the air.  Good times.

Hmmm.  Bar Review is making me think in random chunks of thoughts.  This is like first year again.... good times.