Just got her acceptance letter: transferring into UIUC as a junior, fall, 2010, Psychology.
No clout required. Thank Vishnu.
Just got her acceptance letter: transferring into UIUC as a junior, fall, 2010, Psychology.
No clout required. Thank Vishnu.
Yeah. I got nothing. But, I did decide what I was going to wear at competition. Next was the hair but Brittanie tells me I’m more professional with the hair straight not curled although I want to wear it curled. When it’s really messed up, curled is better looking than straight. Enh. I’m just rambling. Must sleep but missed my Interwebs.
(PS) Clearly I didn’t post this before the competition. We did nicely. The kind of thing I’d rather tell you about in person. But I did wear ← this. It was fun. I didn’t remember that I owned suit pants. Oh, and my hair did well. So proud of it.
Later – full week ahead. Sort of. Now that Trial Team is over for my team, I am so happy. I still have Advanced Trial Ad which is the jury trial thing. Pre-trial conference is a week from tomorrow. Goes to trial Mar. 18. I can do this, I think. I should start writing the opening, I’m sure. After Trial Team, though, I’m just not worried. w00t.
Oh and I did clean that mirror! It’s a sick, sick world we live in.
Aside: The 14-year-old ambled in around 2p. In her pajamas. “Huh. You’re home?” Yeesss. “School was canceled?” Yeesss. That makes sense. There is, like, six inches on the ground. It reminded me of the time Kate was in third grade, probably, and she was waiting on the school bus at the end of our Michigan driveway. Mooomm, I don’t think there’s school today! “What? Of course there is.” Noooo, no one is going to school today. “Well, even if no one else goes to school today, YOU are.” She comes in fifteen minutes later. Seems a lady stopped and told her school was delayed a couple of hours for fog. So hard to believe that state calls themselves Wolverines. Or worse, Spartans.
So I walk outside. Or look outside, rather, from the garage door. I cannot wear these boots. They’re cute and suede. I promptly had to make changes which, because I love (me, you) so much, I’m going to show and tell.
The Slouchy Boots became Kamiks. We all need Kamiks. Smart-looking and weather-proof. Not warm, but you’re not walking a great distance, are you? Love my Kamiks.
The purse was changed after I got home. I noticed water spots on my bag while I was out. Because I adore this Brandy-brown B. Makowsky Rebel bag, this is unacceptable. The snow on my Kamiks melted, my purse touched my Kamiks, and I got to thinking, “What if the snow/melty-stuff/water had … salt in it from the salt-trucks?” I love this bag too much to risk unknown harm. So I’ve now transferred all my worldly goods to this purple suede bag which I picked up for $15.00 when I was Christmas shopping at Coldwater Creek for the older1 people in my life. Fif-teen dollars. It’s $48.99 at the Outlet right now.
There would have been something wrong with this purse with that outfit, though. It’s hard to see, but I am sporting a purple sweater dress.2 I just fill it out more than the woman with beautiful long hair and fifty-nine-inch-long legs. And I don’t wear that ridiculous scarf and not just because a scarf around my hips looks ridiculous. Oh, go have a kid whydoncha. And don’t carry a purple bag with that dress. This Simply Vera Wang ruched clutch in burgundy would have been a sharp choice. Man, I love that bag too . . . .
I don’t know what is up with me today, but maybe it’s passed. I need a new WordPress post category like Something Shiny or Manic Moments.
(PS) Is my “I am supposed to be writing an opening, closing, direct, cross, cross, direct, and Note” showing?
(PPS) I solemnly swear to clean that mirror one of these days.
2 My gay friend doesn’t like this dress – he’s “not a fan” of the tunic and tights look. “Honestly? It makes your hips look bigger than they are. Andthey’renotthatbig.” Why doesn’t he just shut up and stay out of my head?
I want to complain out loud, right now, but I’m not. Because I’m going to read at least three articles for my Note and organize my iCal and my Google calendar. I do not have time to complain. About the kid who “has style, it’s just not yours” which is said while she’s dressed head-to-toe in an outfit I put together for her, half of which is mine. Or should be. Lately I’ve been channeling Joan Jett, which goes very well with this child’s style. Sure, she doesn’t like or wear everything I do, but I know her style. She robs my closet.
I let her try on my Victoria’s Secret Blue London pencil jeans (because if I see one more American Eagle swoosh-like thing on a back pocket I will burn my own), and I proceeded to put together her current outfit: the great Miss Sixty faux-leather motorcycle jacket (that I can borrow and I thought would look amazing on her and it does), her long sleeved black tee (I have my own already, thanks), and new (Thanks to who? Me. Yes, me.) short-sleeved Brad Butter tee to go over that. I suggested the black knee-high boots with tucked-in jeans and my burgundy multi-strand necklace. I would wear this outfit – and might I say that we both look good in it.
I similarly brought this child home a white long-sleeved tee with a black “I’m in love with a fictional vampire” short-sleeved tee to go over it (I’m totally borrowing this, I don’t care how ubiquitous it is) and a Tryst brown and aqua long-sleeved tie-dyed tee . . . mmm, no. That is now mine. I look good in that shirt. With my brown scrunch knee-high boots? Give me back the Blue Londons.
Clearly, my point is that I have great style I am the definition of über-hip she’s just unthinkingly reactionary as are all 14-year-olds you don’t define your style as Anti-Mom while you are dressed in your mom’s stuff. Moron. But I’m not complaining. It gives her something to say and sometimes (read: never) she’s just too quiet. I just hope she looks good today and tomorrow. (And I know she will, because I freaking dressed her.)
However, what rocks my Consumer World today is the point of this post:
(1) Sherlock Holmes. This is an enjoyable movie. Do it again, Guy. Do it again.
Aside, from Dinner at Eight, Frasier:
Niles Crane: Oh, oh-oh-oh, the food is to die for!
Martin Crane: Niles, your country and your family are to die for; food is to eat.
And then, like Oprah, I have a few favorite things:
(3) My B. Makowsky Rebel bag. I can’t stop touching it. It’s amazing. The leather. The hardware. I’m bringin’ back big bags. (To my gay friend: “Look, look: I look like Nicole Richie in pencil jeans with a bag two sizes larger than I am!” Gay friend scrunches nose. “This is not a good thing.”) This bag, though? Good thing. He’s an idiot. Beloved, but even so.
(4) My Samsonite Black label Bayamo Doctor’s Bag. You shouldn’t stop touching it. (I did not, however, pay an exorbitant amount for it. But I might have. It’s that amazing.)
(5) Mittens and gloves, fingerless (warm and you can still do things with your phone – what is not to love?) and standard: long winter white fingerless mittens (like these), short black fingerless gloves, sorta long black leather gloves and I’m still looking for the right pair of opera length black leather gloves.
For the love of … It’s about information and affirmation of existing standards. Comforting noises, even.
Oy! Like all Law-Students-Writing-A-Note, I have Law-Student-Writing-A-Note Tourette’s. Halfway through writing this entry, that sentence – the idea really – begs me to write it down and translate it to a page and a half, if I’m good, of quasi-indecipherable language and like every Law Student who is only 17 pages into the 30 quasi-indecipherable ones required, I wrote it down right where I stood, which is here on this very page, lest I lose it. Or right where I reclined. Which is in bed. In pajamas. It’s very, very snowy out.
Oh look. It’s the genesis of Law-Student-Writing-A-Note ADD: something shiny! (Psst – it’s the hardware on my B. Makowsky. Yeah, baby.)
Facebook explodes. No one is drinking. I don’t think anyone is g-chatting, even. Law students everywhere frantically study for finals and review their class notes (the night before their Trial Ad final) hoping to find something within that illuminates the whole semester.
The last three Trial Ad class sessions in which I took notes:
(You know, this was a demonstration class, rather than lecture and that means something for our purposes, here.)
IL Rules of Professional Conduct 2010
3.6 and 3.8
Instructions are an adversary proceeding. Look in pattern jury instruction books. IL: if there is a pattern jury instruction, judge must give that instruction. If not one, judge must be convinced instruction accurately states the law.
Beckett wrote his own jury and trial limiting instruction.
Must have an original instruction and THREE copies. You’ll waive jury error instruction on appeal if you don’t have that “preserve the record” thing at the bottom. God, I hope this is boilerplate somewhere.
Jury gets the packet without the “record” thing. The judge gets the record one.
10/23/09 Free Press stuff:
10/30/09: Tell him who your partner is for Spring, whether you want civil, crim. P/Fail not graded. Jury trial.
I hope we’ve learned our lesson, boys and girls.
I have the flu and this is my bed, right now. What is missing from this photo is me, pretty freaking sick, with four-hour-old Pibb Extra and 40-minute-old Shiner Bock to my right. In this photo, I’m partial to the boxes of Benadryl and Actifed, Hint of Lime Tostitos, Kleenex and iPod.
I’d give details on the competition (we won; we lost) but as you can see, I’m supposed to be reading. Apparently Trial Techniques, Criminal Procedure, poetry, a Lexis outline of Crim Pro, and my notes from my first and for my second meeting with a real doctor for my fake Counseling, Fact Investigation, and Interviewing class. Well, the class isn’t fake. The meeting we’re both attending is fake. I keep using that word.
Aside: The best thing I learned all semester1 was that “You have the right to remain silent” is not the Right You Want. What you really, really want to say is “I want a lawyer.” No “maybe.” No “I should talk to a lawyer.” No. Get serious with this. Feel it: “I want a lawyer.” This is when better protections attach. ← You want better protections to attach. And go ahead and repeat it. Anything special happens, like the police move you to a new room, it cannot hurt to say it aloud for kicks.2 Do not mess this up and then come crying to me.3
More later. Srsly. But I have to get better and have so much to do before my first final next Friday.
1Okay, in the last week, and far beneath “Sit down and shut up,” of course.
2I’m kidding. It could hurt. And how embarrassing to be known as The One Who Repeats Himself Needlessly. Say it aloud anyway.
3This just makes me homesick for Arkansas. I remember the day my brothers very seriously told me to always ask, “Am I being detained?” If not, then shut up and leave. (The trick you go to law school for is knowing what it means when the cop says, “Why, yes. You are.”)
Alright, we have sound. But we were dead Friday night. Utterly lame, tired, pained, not in a courtroom. However, this is Conor’s cross of his actual co-counsel playing a hostile witness and she is good at what she does to both Conor and Eric. Conor says, “This is horrible.” Eric: “I feel your pain, man.” Naoshi can destroy either of them with a few sentences.
To explain just a bit – Eric and I are the Defense team for competition. Conor and Naoshi are the Plaintiff’s team. During competition, we four will not face each other, but the Defense team will serve as favorable Plaintiff’s witnesses, and the plaintiff team will serve as our favorable witnesses. The non-favorable witnesses will be played, at competition, by other teams therefore we four give each other a hard time on cross so nothing will surprise us. This leads to the most amusing moments we have, actually.
A few moments from this incredibly poor round:
(1) My response to the judge, which is really in response to Conor: 0:11-0:13. “Any objection, counsel?” “None, Your Honor.” “Except it’s a waste of time.”
(2) 2:19-ish I cannot begin my re-direct. Just blanked. I walk over to Eric and say, “Gimme a sentence.” “A sentence?” “Yes. How does this start?”
(3) 3:29 Naoshi (the witness) lists off a litany of facts favorable to my side, ending with “…scaring employees.” Eric begins clapping. It was a really brilliant moment, there, N.