For the first time, I have entered the Student Lounge in the basement of the main classroom building (I usually hang out upstairs instead). It’s a big room, with lots of comfy chairs, tables, couches, and a tv (there is a separate room nearby with fridges and nukes).

The tv is, appropriately, tuned to Court TV (or whatever it is called now). Right now, the current O.J. trial is on live. Seems fitting.

I had another “busy work” assignment for my Legal Skills class. This one was to teach us how to citate, aka Sheparize, a case. That is, basically, how you check the case law surrounding the issue in your case to make sure that the cases you are citing to back up your point are still good law. This is important stuff to learn, but the frustrating part about it is that my professor insists that we learn how to do it using books when it is much faster and more complete to do it online (we do learn the online system too).

I thought maybe I was being whiny about doing it in books, but then I tried to complete the assignment. I could not find the correct book to start the process. I could find books that covered cases around the case I had to so, but not it. After trying twice on my own in the library, I decided to ask the reference librarian for help. She couldn’t find it either! She had just as much trouble as I had in deciphering what book covered what, etc., and in the process she said that in all her experience in law firms she never once saw anyone use the books–it’s been done electronically for years now. She continued, saying that she knew who my prof was because she was the only one who kept on teaching the old method and “I have no idea why she does that anymore–it’s just a waste of everyone’s time.” I felt much better hearing that. 

Searching seems to be a theme for me these days. Besides all the research I have to do for class, I have also been searching for some way to not kill myself in the process of going to school and doing all the work. I’m not doing so great on that. Yesterday, Christopher’s birthday no less, I was so ravenous when I got home that I ate a bunch of junk and then when I took him out to dinner I got ill from having over-eaten. I’m having trouble eating well when I’m on campus for anywhere between 7 and 11 hours a day (one shorter day of only about 4.5, including commute) and getting exercise, besides walking to/from bus and up/down stairs to class, just isn’t happening enough. It’s tough, finding the balance. 

Suggestions are welcome.

I meant to write a nice long post over the weekend…but I didn’t.

I also meant to swim, get some other exercise, clean my office, pay some bills, organize some notes, get ahead in my reading, and do a few other things.

I didn’t.

I did get the kitchen and livingroom floors cleaned, managed to get to the grocery, made a huge pot of baked pasta, and I did do my prep for class today, but that is about all I accomplished.

I have officially hit the wall. 

Friday, we had to go to Jake’s 40th surprise party, which was lovely. Saturday was Lynn’s 80th surprise party, and that took up most of that day. Sleep is not something that I am getting enough of (I sleep, but I dream about classes mostly) so when I got up on Sunday I felt exhausted and hung-over, which was quite impossible (the hung-over part) as I had imbibed one-half of a Miller at Lynn’s event. Exhausted was entirely possible.

This week promises to be crazy-busy as well. Luckily, our honors instructor was at the library early today so I got my Legal Skills work signed off early and turned in. 

During my big break between classes on Monday, I thought I’d get the next Legal Skills “busywork” assignment done, but I just found that to be impossible. Just about every other 1L is in the library now and the books I need are needed for other assignments in other sections and, well, they aren’t on the shelves. Crap. I can find just about everything online, but we are supposed to use the books for parts. Silly, frustrating, and a waste of my time.

Well, I do have other work to do, so I guess I’ll do that instead. But that does mean I’ll have to stop writing this now.

I just got home from Lynn’s (mother-in-law) 80th surprise party. I left early to get some reading done but Christopher stayed, of course. When I got home, there was an official looking envelope in the mailbox. It was from the CA Architectural Board–results from C’s latest test for which we have been waiting since August. I called him to let him know the envelope had arrived. He had me open it (thank god because I was dying to know but wouldn’t open it without permission). He passed! That makes seven passed. Only two (and the orals) to go. Woo hoo!

In law school, you are told repeatedly that you must make outlines for your courses. An outline should include the material you learn for each course, assembled into some logical sequence so that you can grasp the course as a whole and understand how the individual cases you study work together. There are commercial outlines, but we are warned to avoid these. Logically, that makes sense as it is in the process of developing your outline that your repeatedly process the material and, thus, learn it. Just reading over a pre-made outline probably wouldn’t help, much.

The problem for me is that I have never been an outliner. I never use them when I am writing–never have. I remember in my first quarter of undergrad I had a professor who said that we had to write a short paper and that the outlines would be due in a week, “You are not required to write an outline, but I have never had a student get an A on this project without doing the outline.” I skipped the outline and when he handed back the final papers he said “Once again, those who did not write an outline did not get an A.” I looked down at my paper, saw a bright red A, and lifted my hand. “You don’t count,” he said, jokingly. 

This reinforced my “I don’t do outlines” attitude and I made it through undergrad and grad school without a single outline.

Now, however, I am giving them a shot. I spent a good part of today starting my course outlines. I’m using OmniOutliner which is a Mac app that is very user-friendly. I can attach my briefs to the outlines, even, which is very helpful. I have good starts on Property and Criminal, an the slightest framework for Contracts. CivPro, however, eludes me as yet. I don’t feel like we have covered enough material to know how to organize it all…yet.

Speaking of CivPro, after class on Friday I heard several of my classmates saying how they felt lost or like they were really struggling in that class. Me, I love it. My two favorite classes are Contracts and Civ Pro because I feel like there is always something more about each case to understand–lots of twists and the back stories are interesting. It takes a lot more work to prepare for class and some of the rules are written in the most obscure English so that I feel like I’m looking up every-other word, but it’s still fascinating to me.

Property runs in third position and Criminal is my least favorite of the substantive courses. Property has some interesting bits, but Criminal is much more black-and-white–here are the elements, did the accused cover all the elements, if so then s/he’s guilty. Ho-hum. Legal Skills is my least favorite class of all–I feel like it’s a lot of babying and hand-holding for stuff we should be able to pick up pretty easily. I mean, how many times can we be told that we have to be careful to follow the rules when we cite and that those rules are all in the Bluebook. Yeah, I get it already… can I go read my CivPro? No, I have to do exercises in the library comparing the opinions in official reporters and unofficial ones and identifying where in the library one can find the Pacific Reporter. Feels like kindergarten work–what, next will we be coloring in a line drawing of a digest? Yawn.

Anyway, when my classmates were bemoaning CivPro, I expressed my enjoyment of it. You’d have thought I said “I like to put babies on giant spikes,” they way people stared at me. People seemed really surprised, but I took that as a good thing. Besides, it’s okay if they think I’m weird, I know I’m a big geek.

Last Friday, late afternoon, the UPS man brought my back a goodie…my new rolling bookbag. On Monday, when I showed up for class, it was clear that several other people were evidently visited by the rolling bag fairy. Of my new “gang of four,” three of us are now sporting gravity-friendly paper-transportation devices. 

I don’t know about anyone else, but I am so much happier with my new bag. Come Friday, when I have two classes and two “tutoring” sessions, which means I should carry all 4 casebooks, my back will be very grateful. 

Have I mentioned the “tutoring?” Cal Western offers one extra session per week, optional, for each of the 4 core classes 1Ls take. These are taught by 3Ls, usually, who previously did very well in the course. They offer additional information and help–students can ask questions, of course, but there are also handouts, etc. I’m not sure how often I will be attending all of these, but it’s good to know they are there.

Today, during the couple of hours we have between classes, I had lunch with and went to study with three other women (I’m jokingly calling us the “gang of four”). We’re an interesting mix–ethnically we pretty much have everything except Continental-Asian covered–one African-American (really–her father is from Nigeria), one (I think) Mexican and maybe Philippino or Pacific Islander mix, one blonde Central Valley California girl, and me. They’re all bright and have great senses of humor, and I think we’ll end up making an interesting and effective study group. I was happy when they asked me to join in. 

Anyway, during our informal studying today, I asked what the others thought about our Civil Procedure prof. Christina (the second mentioned above) who was a journalist and teacher in her previous life, said she wasn’t sure about him yet. Then she compared the course to Defense Against the Dark Arts (Harry Potter reference), and the rest of us completely lost it laughing.

It’s actually a pretty accurate when you think about it–in that course we’re learning all the technical rules that less-than-scrupulous people have been known to misuse in arguably evil ways. Of course, those rules can also be used for good and the only way to defend against the scumbags is to know what they are going to try and pull. 

So now, of course, we’re trying to figure out which of our professors is Snape.

I’m waiting in a common area for a class to begin and watching my fellow students. One guy in my section just showed up wearing the most old-Jewish-lady-looking-huge-white-framed sunglasses. Only a gay man with a certain flamboyant flair could even think of pulling those off. I’m pretty sure this guy is straight. Ew.

Then again, I recently read a review of the nightlife in San Diego where a reader commented “Why is it that only in San Diego do the straight guys dress like gay men.” At least that would help to explain why my gaydar has been so seriously off here. Almost all the guys I meet register as “gay.” I think it’s a SoCal thing.

I have just discovered the most fun a human can possibly have: surfing. 

This morning I had the first of a two-morning weekend surfing clinic, and it was great. For women only, the participants (7 of us) ranged from 47 to a sophomore in high school. Most had no experience, two had some but wanted to take lessons from someone other than their boyfriend/husband who had no patience or skill in teaching (apparently “Just stand up already!!” is not helpful).

We had two instructors, fun girls with what seems to be the stereotypical surfer personality–in other words, they were disgustingly happy and perky. One gave up her job as a tax accountant (she was about to take her CPA exams) to teach surfing, the other works with autistic kids on the side. Happily, neither was built like Elle MacPherson so I didn’t feel completely intimidated, but they both had (and yes, this will sound weird) amazing feet. I think that you must use all sorts of teeny muscles in your feet doing this so theirs were perfectly tanned and toned, with cute toenail polish and the occasional toe ring, and they looked (again, this is weird) like happy feet that could snap small branches with their toes. The toenail polish seemed to be the one nod to make-up either bothered with. One of them told me, “I started surfing and now I never wear make-up, my hair is always fried on the ends, and I’ve never been happier.” 

After signing our releases (a bit unnerving since one item listed was about beasties that will eat you) and getting to know each other a bit, we sat in the sand and they taught us about rip currents, the difference between inside and outside (before the break zone, after the break), and the parts of the board. Then they demonstrated how to pop up–which is how you get to the standing position on the board. Then we moved over to our own boards (these were heavy foam beginner boards, long, forgiving, and less likely to injure us if they hit us), in the sand, and pretended to paddle, and popped up on command.

Popping up is supposed to be a fluid movement that kind of works like this: on your belly with your feet very near the tail of the board, you paddle to try to match speed with the oncoming wave; at the right time you put your hands under your chest and push up your torso and hips (like a push up, but with some arch) while you simultaneously draw your feet up under you, to that the front one (either) is between your hands or in front of them even; then, you stand (but keep your knees bent for balance and control–deeper bend is better). If you’ve taken yoga, you have a much better chance at popping up successfully quickly–it’s sort of cobra/upward-facing dog to crescent to warrior pose (but with bent back knee). 

So we practiced there in the sand. You want to land with your feet on the spine, front foot near the center of the board or a smidge back, feet about shoulder-width apart or a bit more and perpendicular to the boards axis–arm in front pointing at the beach (as a beginner), back arm back and bent for balance. I surprised myself by getting it pretty right immediately. 

Then we put on our wetsuits and rash guards (to protect the suit). I have never worn a wetsuit and I have to say, there is no way to gracefully put one on (or take it off for that matter). The water was probably warm enough to skip it, but we all decided not to risk it and put them on.  They do conveniently hide cellulite and they are warm, but they are a pain to get on/off.

Anyway, once dressed, we grabbed our boards and headed down the beach to the water. Surf boards weigh more than they look. My arms were just a hair too short to be able to carry mine under my arm like the cool kids, so I hoisted it onto my head for the trek. Even there, it was heavy by the time we got to our spot. As I walked to the edge of the water, I thought about all the things that could go wrong–sharks, stingrays (you must shuffle your feet on the sand under the water here to scare them off), broken limbs, drowning, god-only-knows-what-bacteria in the water (Tijuana often spills sewage and it’s too close for comfort)–then I took a deep breath, said something akin to “screw it,” put the leash on my right ankle, and headed into the water.

To start, the instructors held the back of our boards (one at a time), told us when to paddle, then gave a good shove and told up to pop. This was all being done “inside” where the waves had already broken–that foamy smaller wave-ish stuff nearer the shore. I was first.

I sucked.

I tried to pop at the right time, but I made the cardinal error of holding the rails (edges) of the board rather than putting my hands in push-up position. When you do that, you push harder with one side than the other and pretty much flip that board before you get half-way up. Sploosh, I went in, and came out laughing. 

Some of the other girls got it right on the first try–especially the two who had done it before. Others looked like me. Then I got another turn. This time I sucked again. More girls got it right and stood for at least a second or two. I couldn’t seem to get close. Feet under me, yes, but right off the side, every time. This time I drank a bunch of sea water, but I listened to the advice of the instructor, and tried to correct.

I sucked a third time, but that time I got closer and when I came up, I heard my father’s voice in my head from when he taught me to ski: bend zee knees! The instructor said the same (without the “zee”) and I went back out to wait for my next try. 

On my fourth, I got up and stayed up for a bit! My chest was still burning a bit from the saltwater drink earlier and my nose was running from the gallons of saltwater already flushed through my sinuses, but I had a HUGE smile on my face as the other girls applauded or said encouraging things. 

I was (barely) surfing!

I kept at it–taking my turns and getting up more and more, though not consistently. Soon the instructors let us start trying without their physical help. They’d still help us spot the wave, time when to start paddling, and maybe they even yelled to pop, but I never heard. I could feel when I had a chance and when not, more and more.

Finally, I had a great chance. Lovely wave, plenty of speed, knew I had it, popped just right, and immediately got tossed ass-over-head in a rolling sploosh worthy of film. I flipped and rolled under water, came up, and wondered what I had done so spectacularly wrong. Nothing–it seems that the wave changed directions at the very last moment and it just spanked me, according tot he instructor who saw the whole thing.

As I untangled the leash, I was giggling like an idiot. I was getting tired, but I went back out again and again. I had a couple of good rides, and one that would have been but my arms went on strike at that moment so popping became out of the question (I did ride all the way in on my belly though)–right after me the 47-year old did the same and we laughed about it. 

It was glorious.  I had even seen a seal not 20 feet from me in the water at one point–how cool! I couldn’t remember having a better time doing anything. 

We finally headed in, all of us smiling and laughing and thrilled. I had drunk a ton of the sea and had it flush through my sinuses, my ears, and probably everywhere else; my wetsuit’s crotch was sagging in an uncomfortable way (had been for a while); my chest was still burning from all the inhaled saltwater; I had painfully bent back several nails and one toe in an awkward way, and my hair was in one Gordian knot, but I was never happier. 

And tomorrow, I get to do it again. We’ll go to the “outside” tomorrow (the ones with experience did today). I can hardly wait. 

I’ve taken some Advil to help ward off sore muscles. I’m drinking loads of water to re-hydrate and I plan on doing stretches throughout the afternoon and evening to help avoid whatever my body thinks of throwing at me for such pleasure, but I will be back out there in the morning, even if I have to crawl to get there. 

After waiting a month, I just checked online and the grades for the Summer Enrichment course have been posted. Here’s mine:

That H stands for Honors. After a mediocre performance on the midterm, I must have kicked some butt on the final. I am SO relieved!

Quick note…. I’m waiting for my afternoon class, in the main classroom building. I just noticed a poster on the wall opposite–it is of a scene of farm workers, done by (and promoting the work of) Diego Rivera. I’m pretty sure that confirms that this school has a bunch of Lefties in the admin and faculty.