Irrational Logic

Why is that?

While an undergrad I took a class on creative writing. I did so because I used to love to write; to go off on strange tangents about strange things, playing with words and ideas. 

The class was a miserable failure. There's an inherent inconsistency with a course on being creative... my creativity was not only being judged, but it was being judged in relation to those around me.

Guess what? I didn't like it. Weird.

Thing is, I don't really care if people like my writing. My creativity. It means nothing to me. So when someone tries to provide me with "feedback" (also known as 'constructive criticism') I get thoroughly annoyed. Because I don't care. It's about the experience... not the end result.

As many of you know (speaking of narcissism... as if I have any proof anyone whatsoever reads this), I'm a second-year law student with rather lofty goals, particularly considering where I came from. I've done well in school. Law school, anyway. And I've decided I suck at legal writing. Not just a little. I really suck at it.

I abuse commas. I begin sentences with the word "and." And when one word will do just fine, I go out of my way to utilize a myriad of unnecessary verbiage. Additionally, I apply alliteration as an artful aid. Ahem.

What it all comes down to is the fact that I have an extremely difficult time writing something I wouldn't want to read. And legal writing... it's boring. Often painfully so. I'm a bad legal writer. I'm a bad writer in general terms as well. And, you know what? That's okay with me.

I've actually been told before that I'm a "good" writer. This is utterly false. I am able to convey ideas, emotions, states of being effectively. I can leave people feeling good or bad, depending on my choice of words. Presumably, those would be conscious choices... Presumably.

This, I am good at. But writing, in the traditional Strunk & White meets the Chicago Manual of Style out for a glass of sake' sense... I'm kinda pathetic.

So I've come to terms with that. I'm okay not being a "good" writer. I'll stick with what I got. And I'll continue to use whatever words feel right at the time, regardless of what the rules are. Because I won't write something I wouldn't want to read.

(Dammit.)

Many people read to get the point out of something. For me, it's completely different. I can appreciate Hemmingway and Tom Robbins in equal measure... because for me, it isn't about the end result of the work. It's about the journey. This has made law school an interesting experience for me... but I digress. (Don't I always?)

My father is always beating me over the head with that life lesson. Life isn't about the goal or the result. The real result for each and every one of us is death. On a long enough timeline, the survival rate for everything drops to zero. Life is all about the journey, and how we get there.  How many people we can make smile along the way.  And I'm trying to live it. In law school, it isn't easy.

On a related note, Kurt Vonnegut's son - Mark - has a great quote:

"We're here to help each other through this thing, whatever it is."

Vonnegut was a bad writer too.  So it goes.

I hope that coming to terms with the fact that I'm not a "good" writer is an acceptable first step. And you know what?

Fuck the rules.

Writing is art. And rules (like laws) were made to be broken, redefined, challenged, and even ignored.

2 years ago, I would have been in Boston, and there would likely be a significant amount of slop on the ground (for those of you who don't know, it doesn't really rain or snow in Boston, but instead it "slops"... a particularly messy combination of the two that seems to enjoy freezing solid overnight so that I can't move my car in the morning...)  

I probably would be sitting in my cubicle reading NYTimes right now, on my third or fourth cup of coffee.

Today, I'm sitting in a carrel, which amounts to a nicer, wooden cubicle in the law library.  It's raining out, and there's no slop to be seen.  I'm writing here, while I should be studying Con Law II.  While I'm not reading anything online, I am on my fourth cup of coffee according to the caffeine info on my Viso bottle.  

I'm surrounded by people who are literally vibrating with intensity... it's amusing.  But hey, who cares about them... this is about me, right?  I'm not vibrating with much anything, and I'm willing to bet the look on my face is anything but intense.

Moving on, the point of this post is to point something out.  

The particular carrel in which I have situated myself this morning is near a window.  I've spent a considerable amount of time staring out this window, and seen some interesting things.  I watched some small birds attack a couple crows, which always makes me laugh for some odd reason.  I also watched one of these crows, from roughly 100 yards away, begin to fly right at me.  Granted, it was far away, so I don't think he/she was flying at me per se, but instead I need you, dear reader, to have a frame of reference.  While said crow was flapping away, the wind was such that instead of moving in the direction the crow seemed to intend, it was moving decidedly westward... assuming up is north, which it always should be if you ask me.  So... left.  The crow was moving left.  My left, not the crow's left.  You with me?

I found myself wondering what that felt like... flapping wildly, trying to go one way, and instead being forced another.  Somewhat like childhood, I'm sure.  Anyway...

From there, my mind wandered to the mindset of this crow, and whether it was having fun, or just becoming more and more annoyed with the wind, since it was obviously trying to fly to me, after all.  I smiled at this thought... not only anthropomorphizing a bird, but also deciding that the world really must revolve around me.  All in the same thought.  How deliciously human.

Still smiling, I then looked down.  Gross.  Someone had gotten Con Law all over my desk.  

I was suddenly frustrated with the fact that I was here, paying much more than was reasonable to learn about whether someone should be allowed to yell "Fire" in a crowded theatre.  For a moment, I envied the crow.  I thought that the worst he/she had to deal with was wind, rain, snow, ice, hunger, predators, people, pollution... I then stopped envying the crow.  

Instead, I had moved on to the image of my crow, happily ensconced in a crowded theatre, when suddenly someone yells "Fire!"  My crow just sits there, perched on the back of a seat making it difficult for the person behind them to see, trying to enjoy "Wedding Crashers" for the twelfth time, busily snacking on some chocolate covered grasshoppers... while everyone around him/her jumps and screams and cries and runs away.  Being a crow, and thus possessed of a vocabulary presumably limited to variations of the word "caw," Flappy (I named the crow "Flappy" at this point... you know, in my head) doesn't understand the word "Fire," and the fear and madness the word can instill in others.  So Flappy sits (well, perches... I don't know that crows can sit), and snacks, and watches... now quite alone.  The movie rolls on, Vince Vaughn says something about loosening up and making some bad decisions... and at this point, I snap back to reality, and immediately wonder...  

As I said above, the point of this post is to point something out.  It has nothing to do with Flappy, or any other crows.  Instead, it has to do with the fact that I will do absolutely anything to get around doing work... 

And while I'm somewhat impressed with this particular journey my mind took, (I mean, I had a crow watching Wedding Crashers!) I nonetheless remain concerned with my complete lack of give-a-shit.

Any suggestions?

"Scotch" knows more about the stuff than anyone I've ever met.  As a result of hanging out with him, I've grown to appreciate the intricacies, nuances, and other large, descriptive words having to do with scotch.  Due to his influence, my friends' willingness to always try something new, and our inherent pretentiousness as law students, we've been doing different "nights."  Bourbon night, scotch night, etc.  There's a lot to learn about the various alcohols out there, and for those of us who thought of scotch as Dewars, and Whiskey/Bourbon as Jack Daniels... well, we all knew we had a lot to learn. 

"Scotch" was able to teach us.  We are forever grateful.

Before, I was a vodka man.  Now, vodka bores me.  There's so much more you can do with good bourbon, scotch, or gin.  With vodka, most drinks are nothing more than vain attempts to mask the flavor of the alcohol.  Sadly, that's true of most drinks, but vodka in particular.  But I digress.

The purpose of this post was to tell you to drink scotch.  If you don't like it, learn to.  It's worth the effort, the expense, and the relatively small amount of time it will take.  

Our last evening consisted of the following:

Dalmore Cigar Malt

Macallan 10

Oban 14

Lagavulin 16

Aberlour 12

Aberlour a'bunadh (cask strength)

Highland Park 12

Jura 10

Aberlour 10

Speyburn 10

(thanks Tom, for the list and pic.)

The Lagavulin was ridiculously good... peaty and smoky, and yet not overpowering like a Laphroig might be.  The Aberlour 12 was great as well.  With the exception of a freak shot of Laphroig 30 bought by a friend in Portland, these two maintain the first two spots on my list.  But then, who cares about my list?  Even I don't care about my list. 

I'm done ranting.  Moral here?  Learn to drink scotch.  It's worth it.  Especially if you're in law school... we need all the booze we can get.

I don't hate finals time for the finals... tests can be fun, and if nothing else, they mean I either get to flex some mental muscle, or will never again have to sit through a lecture on a subject I couldn't possibly care less about and have no intention of practicing.

I hate finals time for what it does to the average law student.  It takes a normally rational, if overly-ambitious individual, and turns him/her into a complete and utter lunatic.  People who you have never seen with a cigarette in their little fingers become chain-smoking maniacs.  By 9a.m., most patrons of the library have consumed the better part of an entire pot of coffee.  The stress is palpable, the anxiety contagious, the blood pressure visible in the flushed cheeks and popping-veins of my peers...  I hate finals time.

I do most of my studying, for what it's worth, in one of the many coffee shops in town.  Or ensconced in my cushy couch... though, this often leads an afternoon/evening of my staring at the television rather than absorbing Equal Protection.  Problem?  Not always.

This year is a bit better than last... as a 1L, I was among the frenzied and frazzled masses.  This year, however, I know just enough to know I know enough... and to pace myself as exams approach.  And also to drink more as finals approach, being an avid proponent of the 'Buffalo Theory.'

So, why start a blog?  Well, I'm here on my couch (see infra), surrounded by Business Association materials, with College football on the television.  I'm sure as hell not studying... which begs the question of why I'm drinking coffee at 7:00p.m.  

Why am I drinking coffee?  Anyway... 

So, why start a blog.  

I intend to use this little mass of letters and numbers as a tool.  The best advice an experienced writer can provide an aspiring one is simply to write... and to do so often.  Editing has its place, but is better left to the professional.  Me?  I like writing, as it helps me work out problems in my convoluted thought and decision making processes.  Am I an aspiring writer?  Probably not, but I once heard someone I respect say "scratch a lawyer, find a fiction writer."  I don't know what that says about our legislative process... I'm going to just go with it.

Also, I've been privy to plenty of funny sh*t that has happened over the past two years, where I, or someone close to me has commented on a desire to document the event in some way.  Usually with an expletive or two.  Needless to say, I look forward to chronicling the many embarrassing events involving my friends... and inevitably, yours truly.

Also, while many people will realize who is writing this (probably as a result of my telling them) I like the idea of being able to write with a certain amount of anonymity. 

Here's hoping I'm able to keep up, and here's hoping this doesn't suck.  

Thanks for reading... feel free to let me know what you think.