Crucifixes, gnawing on my neck

I've been restless for what feels like ages, but it's only been approximately two weeks.

Finals are over. Finished my craptastic write-on: for those who had the common sense not to go to law school, the "write-on" refers to the amazing writing application process in which 1Ls try to write onto one of the law journals at school.

Lawyers and upperclass students tell us journal status is necessary, and I suppose that should be gospel for us 1Ls who just want to make it into biglaw[read: one of the fabulous law firms where you make tons of money and have little time to spend it]. Maybe I'll write about my feelings about the law in a bit. Deserves several posts.

I finished that process on Monday, barely making it to a midnight post-office, and have been brain dead ever since. Reading stuff at Top Law Schools and beating myself up over not having good grades, and really just wanting to lie around. And watch Chinese TV.

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I was somewhere, though, somewhere online. And I remembered a conversation I was having with a friend, Adaora, about Avatar, the movie. Of all things, eh? I'm not a fan of the movie, and think it's pretty much a rip of Ferngully/Dances with Wolves/WHATEVER-- white man goes to native land, falls in love with the native girl, becomes a hero, etc. Of course, there're other qualities that make Avatar stand out-- the cinematographic brilliance, the relation it has to the current state of affairs, the environmental themes[I guess? I seem to also recall some animal hunting, but my memory's off], and of course that it's been able to capture the hearts and minds of so many people.

To be honest, I'd rather leave the film conversations to the actual professionals-- I'm just a layman and I'm very simple. In fact, I'm worse than a layman: I don't like movies. The total number of movies I actually enjoyed watching probably hovers around 15-20-- everything else has my lost my attention at one point or another. So, I'm a bad example.

The last movie I enjoyed in a movie theatre was probably Revolutionary Road, and that's because it's very faithful to the book.

Anyway, in the conversation, we were going back and forth, and at some point something comes up about "an African perspective", and that I and an African-American female who also disliked Avatar "didn't get it." "It" being a referent to the African perspective, or her perspective as an African, or what an average African would think about the movie, or whatever it is that she meant. I asked for an explanation, but she refused, at which point I suppose any meaningful line of conversation on that line broke down.

I was angry about it: it felt like a copout for someone who couldn't explain her point well enough. Bring up some identity issue that clearly disables your opponent from rebuttal-- all smoke and mirrors for a weak position. But, I think one thing I've learned is that people from underrepresented groups are not required to educate the ignorant masses[ie: me] about whatever misunderstandings we have. We need to educate ourselves; this burden shifting to the people with knowledge on the subject[ie: Adaora] is unfair and a vestige of privilege. Or so the liberals would say.

I think it's because I can understand this line of protest that I didn't write off her entire argument as rubbish.

It did have me thinking about African identity though, and that is a good thing.
--

Now, I think I've been a bit naive about "black." Actually, I think I'm naive about nomenclature in general-- liberals like to make a big deal about the power of words, the attachments they have, all that jazz. This is when my conservative impulse kicks in and I start to say "f*ck it", but I can somewhat get it, even if I'm not persuaded. The issues with "queer" or "gay" for example-- the images they're associated with, or whatever gripes people apparently have with the terms.

ETA: Actually, I suppose it is persuasive as I think about it: there's probably a deserved anger at being coopted into a movement that doesn't even recognize that you exist, pretends to tell your story even though it has nothing to do with you and refuses to engage you while subsuming you. I was being overly being derisive; this is very persuasive. I guess I'm not entirely convinced that nomenclature rejection is the way out, but. But.

I guess I've been similarly under the interpretation that Black wasn't really an objectionable term. If you have a drop of Black blood, you're Black. Of course, self-identification is a component, but this reclassification of people with mixed ancestry as something other than...Black is a revision of Black history and ignores the fact that Black people are and have been mixed for centuries.

Anyway. A definition with the term it defines in the definition, how useful is that? Black, I thought, was African ancestry of some sort-- whatever that means. There, catchall.

Of course, nomenclature issues. I think I've vaguely been aware of the fact that there are people who fit my understanding who don't identify as Black, and I've been trying to brainstorm as to why. One of the reasons is the more obvious one that I've known for a while-- African Americans are pathetic, to speak harshly. The lack of education, the health afflictions, the incarceration rates, ghetto culture, the current state of hip-hop and the negative impression we apparently leave upon every other demographic in this country.

Fine. I get that.

I imagine another is that "Black" as a movement, term, or whatever, is a fiction created by African Americans. I guess what I mean is that non-African-American-African-descended people["NAADP"] might be hostile to being subsumed into Black because they have had very little part in its construction. It was invented by African-Americans, largely discusses the African American experience[whatever that is? Neither am I sure of its veracity], and makes no reference to the lives that NAAADP people live. It's based on an American conception of race that most of the world doesn't even acknowledge, so the entire point of view of some greater "Black" diaspora is invalid.[Though, I'd imagine a Pan-African something or other would have more credence]

Or maybe that it's presumptuous-- should we all just identify as African instead?

Alright, I'm losing clarity and this entry is being unwieldy for me to continue a proper discussion. The point is: Black is simple. I assumed there was an automatic concession that the Black experience is varied and complicated, but that may be false. I imagine African-African-American relations must also play some part-- ignorance on both sides, whatever. I certainly remember some of the horrible things my classmates said about a classmate who came from Kenya when I was in middle school. Though, they were mainly Caribbean-American, so...is that a different issue?

Another reason I wanted to move to China: Americans, including the immigrants who move here, are so touchy for one reason or another. Didn't really have any issues with the Tanzanians and the Ethiopians I hung with, but I also didn't identify them as Black, at least out loud. So maybe that made things easier? We didn't really need a conversation about race.

These conversations, man. To quote Ke$hia: "Blah blah blah."

Sorry, also: the quality of this entry is much lower than I expected, but my computer also crashed and I lost most of what I originally wrote, so. I'll try to keep things at a higher standard as I get back into the swing of things.

Deuces.

In memorium.

I just found out my great-grandmother died recently, and so I tried to write something in her honor. Nothing really captures how great of a person she was, but I thought it was the least I could do.

--
"Lucille"

My fingers snap green beans,
Forcing them from their pods,
Nectar spilling and staining
my fingers.
The mark of a good woman was
Her ability to drown in these juices at every meal,
To kiss the kitchen floor with her feet
And bless the pots with her biceps,
To inhale the dust from every fabric in her house
With her wrists. And to hold her breath and drown.
I was always an adept swimmer.
I was the type of woman who was indifferent to the stream,
To the moral fibers not within my chest,
A lone fragment, pliant but weathered.
Mulberry lips and sharp knuckles,
Eyes colored from the cotton fields,
Eyes colored from the human heart.
I was the type of woman
To kiss thunder and pray in the snow,
Knobby knees on frozen asphalt,
In silent worship of the woman named
Lucille.

--

Rest, great-grandma. I love you and hope you've found peace.

Topaz Tobbogans

So, as I'm sure I've mentioned, I tend to always have some problem or another with car pools or otherwise riding with people.

A friend of mine here, a classmate, has been giving me rides for most of the semester but last week told me she wouldn't be able to. I went back to the bus. Yesterday, though, she told me it would be cool to ride with her again but when I got there[approximately the same time we usually left], she was already gone.

I'm not entirely sure what to make of it, but it was at the very least frustrating. All I can really recollect are the feelings once I get there and realize I have no way to get to class. How much this reminds me of last semester, of high school, of the helplessness and feelings of distress. And then I think that if only I knew how to drive, or if I didn't depend on people as much as I did, this wouldn't be happening to me over and over. I clearly must enjoy this.

Anyway, so I called cab after cab since no one apparently knows how to get one in less than a half hour to arrive at my place. Finally got one. And then, because I was waiting near the high way, I saw a mentor from the Black Law Student Association; he and his ladyfriend gave me ride to school. Literally a Godsend. I was sort of befuddled and tired but I think I managed to express my gratitude.

Point is. I will be going back to taking the bus until I get my license. It's the same story over and over and I'm really the only one responsible for getting myself to class everyday.

I wish I had a transporter.
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I also wanted to blog about first degree murder and risk-taking in the law.

I was recently called on in my Criminal Law class to talk about Midgett v. State. Midgett v. State was a case about a father of two or so children who abused his son to death. The guy was 6 feet, 300 lbs; his son was 45 lbs, all of eight years old. Abused him for a substantial amount of time; eventually the blunt force trauma that he delivered caused the kid's death. There was also discoloration and signs of malnourishment on the boy. The sister testified that the father was a drinker and that she saw the dad hit the boy.

Now, the primary difference in Arkansas between 1st and 2nd degree murder convictions is that 1st requires evidence of premeditation/deliberation. Midgett countered that there was no evidence showing that; rather, he only wanted to abuse his child. And even if he did have an intent to kill, it was developed in a "drunken, heated rage", which I imagine should negate the premeditation requirement and drop him to 2nd degree.

The court ruled, correctly I think, that there was no ground for 1st degree murder. While Midgett starved the kid, he didn't starve the kid to death. And while he beat him, I don't think any of us who don't have formal physiological training generally know how much abuse a human body can take before the person actually dies-- I could easily conceive of the guy thinking he would hit the kid until he vented all of his frustration without any expectation of the kid's death.

Premeditation requires some showing that before beating the boy to death, Midgett at least contemplated or realized the likelihood of the boy's death. Nothing really here besides the fact that a father, albeit a horrible, drunken one, enjoyed hitting his child with excessive force.

Be that as it may, the description was pretty graphic and I have no doubt that I would have voted for 1st degree murder for Midgett. This was apparently astounding to my Criminal Law professor. As she made me engage with her in typical socratic method fashion, she asked about my feelings about the decision and I explained that essentially jurors are probably unsympathetic to what are really errors on the part of lawmakers-- had there been a law on the books that causing death in the act of abusing a child qualifies as 1st degree murder, then he could have been correctly convicted. Because there was no such law, jurors were being forced to choose a lesser sentence in spite of the egregious circumstances. I definitely would have chose to convict for 1st degree murder not for actually satisfying the formal requirements but for the expressive purpose: as an expression of society's condemnation, it only makes sense to deliver the highest punishment available to Midgett.

This was apparently bewildering. A jurist not following the rules?

Anyway, there was more socratic method, and she asked me about why defendants ask for jury instruction on lesser sentences when they might just get acquitted[I'd explain, but it'd probably take a while], I only became more convinced of another point: regardless of whatever thinkers like to tell themselves, the explanations in law casebooks and given by professors is not realistic. In fact, I'd say most of the discussion we go through is more or less fiction-- I don't actually think lawyers think the reasoning is actually valid, do they? In fact, I'd say most of the justifications/policy discussions around law are really just mental acrobatics.

It's really just like philosophy, another field divorced from reality.

So, while it's all interesting and I do think there's insight to be gained, I'm not particularly convinced of the policy reasons behind a lot of law, and when I engage in discussions with my professors, I'm always wondering if they actually believe what they're telling me or if we just learn it just because.

I guess that makes me a skeptic.

Alright...Post Office in a little while in the job scramble.

A little bird showed me

The title's from one of my recent artist addictions, Jose James; he's featured on a song, "Little Bird", from Jazzanova. Really beautiful piece; the combination of the instruments in the background and his smooth voice really created a nice song. I sent it to the boyfriend as a testament to my feelings.

Give it a listen when you get a chance.



--
Again, trying to give up top-40. I'll try to include more music that I'm listening to.

Let's see. I'm in the library right now. I have a to-do list of things to do but when I start any one thing-- I never know how to finish it. For example, driving. That deserves a series of posts on its own merits, but. In my efforts to actually get my license at some point, I'm trying to finish the last hour of my lessons. No instructor seems to be responding to my call. I'm not sure whether or not word has spread around this desolate little Michigan town that I am the worst driving student known to man, but. The point is, no one takes my call, and it stays on my to-do list. My to-do list grows larger.

I think I'm just going to set up a road test like I said I would and keep taking it until I pass.

I know I said I'd talk re: DADT[Don't Ask Don't Tell] but more recently, an article was passed around on the LGBTQ listserv at UMich Law that state rep Paul Scott here in Michigan is "[making it a priority it a priority to ensure transgender individuals will not be allowed to change the sex on their driver’s license in any circumstance."

Typical obfuscatory politics.

To be honest, I'm not entirely sure what issues Mr. Scott could bring up, but there are certainly more pressing ones than “preventing people who are males genetically from dressing as a woman and going into female bathrooms.”

It's this typical sort of fear-mongering that's characteristic of Republican politics that disappoints me so much with their leadership. Even if Dems are nutty, Republicans leave you very little choice. Minus the Tea Party stuff...but I can discuss that in another entry.

Anyway, there are anti-discrimination laws in place against gender disphoria, which qualifies as a disability, but Mr. Scott doesn't believe he'll run afoul of them. I guess.

Source is here.

Next entry will probably be about some of the things we discuss in Criminal Law/Civil Procedure/Constitutional Law. Might do one tonight. Who knows~

RE:: Phoenicians and Lengthy Light Years

So, this is something like my return.

In a short review, I have given up or at least strictly limited my participation in everything dear to me. These things are:

--comic books
--comic book forums
--facebook
--other forums
--ONTD/gossip websites
--Engadget/most blog sites

In exchange, I'll probably start blogging about law stuff all of the time in an attempt to become a better law student.

In class now, but I'll start blogging about the potential repeal of Don't Ask, Don't Tell in a bit. Hope to update you guys as well relatively soon, for those who still follow.

Much love,
Steven

Houston...

...we've got a problem.

When it gets to the point that I'm bawling after a driving lesson, there's probably an issue.

I'm not entirely sure why I'm so self-critical, or why even writing this on a public computer at the law school is bringing me to tears, but it needs to stop. I don't entirely understand it-- even fumbling a bit in class today in front of all of my classmates when I obviously didn't adequately know the reading wasn't as emotionally draining.

I don't know why I break myself down in the way that I do, but hopefully I'll learn to stop.

I get it. I am a bad driver when thousands of 16 year olds do this stuff in their sleep. And yes, I know, I know-- experience, not everyone picks it up as fast, whatever. Yes, my driver is an overly smarmy 50something who talks to me as if I am a child, further exacerbating my rage at myself.

And then I beat myself up even further for being crazy/not manning up/not being able to go out in public without breaking out into tears. It never ends! I am my cruelest enemy.

My shirt is practically drenched with sweat. My head hurts. Like, what is all this!? And it wasn't even *that* bad-- I mean, I drove, got berated a bunch of times, same old same old.

Blah. Happy Halloween!

[I swear, there's a lot of good stuff to write about; I'll eventually sit down and do that at some point.]

And if you've got room.

If there is something I am tired of hearing, it is, "this is too hard for me."

Boo hoo hoo.

I have just about exhausted my fucking sympathy.

Oh, distance, you will be the death of me. Three times now! I must be a slow learner. It might actually be time for me to close the heart off for good.

We'll see how things go. But I'm prepared.

Another breakup-makeup post. Haven't done those in a while.

[See? I am back. Sort of.

If you've got room.]