World Cup #3

K says, "Suck it South America, Europe Rules!"

When Life is Like Fiction

Last night I had deja vu. Except I wasn't already there. I had just written that I was. Last night I really wanted to see Brick. Kirk and I had been wanting to see it after his friend saw it at Sundance in 2005. Finally! it came to Pittsburgh. I was super excited.

The previews looked awesome. And, shhhh! don't tell anyone. I was a big fan of Third Rock from the Sun (the show, not to be confused with Third Stone from the Sun by Hendrix) and 10 Things I Hate about You...so I figured (based on those two things) that anything with Joseph Gordon-Levitt is right up my alley. But I also wanted to see Superman Returns. And thanks to my "expert knowledge" from Entourage, I know just how important those box office numbers are for opening weekend. Decisions, decisions. It came down to the fact that I have to take a practice bar tomorrow (Sunday) so I figured I should see Brick last night and Superman Returns on Saturday since Brick might "make me think" and I may not be able to go to sleep right away. So K and I were gonna go see Brick.

...But then the plan went awry...

At 9:30 pm I had to make the decision whether to see Brick alone or wait until 10:05 to see Superman Returns with K. That doesn't seem like such a big decision. But I had written a story about a similar situation four years ago. It's a fiction story that takes place in my hometown not in Pittsburgh. And it talks about Waking Life, not Brick.

While watching the movie last night, I couldn't help but compare myself with my fiction narrator.

My Fiction:

Advancement

¶I never wanted to be caught by myself in my hometown. To me, that was a sign to the outside that I had no friends, a terrible condition in the eyes of the socially inter-reliant population of [upper-middle-class suburban, East coast neighborhood, i.e. Marlboro, NJ, Greenwich, CT, Gladwyne, PA], the town in which I lived. There, being alone was a hint to social inadequacies, my obvious imperfection, which I tried to avoid parading around. Of course, there were some reasons where being alone was accepted- the condensed list: 1. Shopping for necessary items (shopping for other purposes was considered a social activity and therefore highly encouraged a partner); 2. Dropping off dry cleaning (it was tasteless for others to meddle in dry cleaning which includes personal items such as girdles, dirty table cloths, last-year’s sweaters ‘to wear around the house’); or 3. Going to the hairdresser/manicurist (who would presumably share gossip about the people in the same social circle). I rarely partook in these activities. Thus, my choices of lonely enjoyment were generally forbidden. For example, if I was caught reading in a coffee shop, enjoying my chai and the stimulating atmosphere, I either became dinner conversation (‘Oh, that poor child, doesn’t she have something more productive to do with her time?’), locker-room chatter, or any form of fodder for the blazing gossip trail. That is, unless when asked, I pretended my mate just didn’t show up (the latter not to be repeated too often, so as not to create suspicion of my character).
¶ Accordingly, why would I venture out and go to the movies alone? Usually I wouldn’t have to. In most other towns in which I had lived, I had close friends who liked similar forms of artistic expression. But in this town, I could find no such friends. I tended to side with the unconventional indie-genres, whereas most people here liked to forfeit themselves to popular culture. Along with my lack of any camaraderie, I wasn’t a film critic or movie buff. I am not those in any town, but in any other town excuses like that were unnecessary, if I wanted to be by myself no one cared. Myself in other towns was drowned out. I was a face on the street. In this town, people took note if I (or anyone else they knew or heard of) walked down the street.
¶ Except, I had been waiting to see this movie for weeks. Back in [choice of Midwest city] I had gotten a postcard-sized advertisement for it at the theater while seeing [indie film already in theaters]. That was in late September. About two weeks later, I had to move back here to help my parents while they were sorting out solutions to [choice of family problem]. As I was unpacking, dreading what hometown life would be like, I put the movie postcard up on my wall, closed my eyes, and slowly waited out the days until the premier. It was going to be glorious, everything I dreamed art should be, and the poster was a tangible manifestation of my excitement. True, I hadn’t seen the movie yet, with the release scheduled for mid-November, but I had read articles upon articles about it.
¶ It was to be of its own genre, nothing could be expected of it except for how unexpected it was. The thing about it was it had no conclusive plot. Instead it was conversations of different characters and their philosophical views of life. But what separated it from other films in its genre was that it kept the viewers attention with revolutionary camerawork, animation over actual footage. It was an enigma that it was showing at the theater on [generic street name]. Usually films such as those were suppressed by the high demand for “entertaining” movies, as opposed to movies that made you think. But I guess because of the movie’s cast, its relation to a movie that categorized the decade before, and the full-page article in the New York Times on the movie’s premier (just like the rest of their media-driven gossip), people were talking about it, and the [name of high-budget movie theater] was listening.
¶ “One please, for the eight o’clock showing.”
¶ “That will be seven fifty.”
¶ Although it was playing on [generic street name chosen], I had decided to go to the theater furthest away from my house. Downtown. I still had to go alone and I figured people that I knew would least likely be at the [name of older movie theater dedicated less to futuristic appearances and more to showing films, i.e. movie theater where seats are less comfortable, don’t recline, and the armrests don’t lift-up, perhaps has stage in front of screen]. I thought downtown, a lone moviegoer would be less recognizable (either it was common, or I wouldn’t know people who would care to notice me). I admit I was still afraid of the people I knew from childhood scrutinizing my behaviors or judging my decisions. I had been bruised by condemnation for being awkward in high school and in middle school. Before my prolonged stay, I had taken to reclusive behaviors when I came home to visit my family, trying to avoid being watched by the alien busybodies of my neighborhood. It was getting harder though as my family problems hadn’t yet subsided, and the place where I currently resided reverted back to becoming my hometown.
¶ Luckily, the teller didn’t even look at me. The window for the tickets was outside in front of the theater, which meant irritable customers standing outside in the cold. For his own sake, he was curt with the customers whom he probably dealt with by habit now. Because of his distant behavior, I didn’t mind as much that no one in my family (my only current form of public acquaintance) would accompany me opening night. The teller had been my conspirator in the first step of a lifelong mission to overcome my biggest fear: being seen by myself anywhere around the vicinity of my house. I thought he played the part well, the unconcerned teller, and I mused to myself that the only reason he looked uninterested was for my behalf, so that I could lose my sense of self-consciousness.
¶ He was onto helping the next customer and I was almost hidden in the dark theater. Just a few more minutes. I had arrived to the theater early to get a good seat. I liked seats in the middle of the row where I had a direct view, not the skewed angle of an aisle seat. This meant I also had to use the ladies’ room before the movie started so my bursting bladder didn't irritate me halfway through (I wasn’t one for getting up in the middle of a movie to ‘release’ this annoyance). Once seated though, the only people who could see me would be those who looked around at their scenery in their moments of boredom throughout the movie. This would be the time when they might wonder why I was there by myself, a lonesome figure in the dark, and maybe postulate different suggestions. By this point though, I wouldn’t care. I would be engrossed in the film and my large tub of popcorn. In addition, for those who didn’t like this movie, why would I care what they thought of me? I reached for the door handle to theater and began to think how easy this was. I was stopped before the thoughts formulated.
¶ “Hi [Narrator]”
¶ I looked up, scared to hear that voice. It was too recognizable. [Popular girl’s name i.e. Jennifer, Kimberly, Lauren] was high school prom queen, on national honor society, and captain of the tennis team. The definition of well adapted. She was also my childhood best friend. The voice belittled me within an instant, and the safety of companionship on my behalf was nowhere to be found. The uninterested teller continued to be uninterested. I wanted to look at him, signal him to help me, pretend to be my friend. You saved me once, save me again! He didn’t turn his head though and I was caught going to the movies by myself, with her as my witness.
¶ I looked towards her before I said anything. I didn’t want her to realize that I didn’t need to see her face to know who just called my name. I had wondered what this moment would be like, what it would be like when I would see her again. I had changed into a much more developed person. But I couldn’t prove this to her. Not in this neighborhood, this was hers.
¶ “Oh hey! How are you?” My response sounded a little too excited.
¶ “I’m doing good, thank you. How have you been? No one sees you around too often.”
¶ I couldn't believe she said she was doing good. “I'm doing well, really well. Yeah, I tend to do my own thing. Always have. Anyway, I don’t plan on staying in [hometown] too often. Don’t want to get too comfortable.” I sounded cheesy. I was talking in platitudes, something I despised, but tended to revert to if I was backed into a corner with nothing else to say.
¶ “[Narrator], this is [good looking boy’s name i.e. Brett, Brent, Chad]. [Good looking boy], [Narrator].”
¶ I nodded to the guy standing next to her, a perfect accessory to her blow-dried hair, her leather jacket, and her black pants. I figured he must be in business of some sort. He was friendly, appropriately dressed, and had a firm handshake. I had no one to introduce her to. I made a joke, a nervous habit that I had acquired from my dad. Joke telling and babbling.
¶ “Oh this is, oh I guess I came to the movies by myself tonight,” I let out an anxious laugh, loud and short.
¶ She faintly smiled. I couldn’t impress her. Years of trying, of awaiting this judgment from her and I was failing. I tried to change the subject.
¶ “So, what movie are you guys seeing?”
¶ “Oh we just came out of [Independent film].”
¶ “Really? That’s what I’m seeing. I’ve been waiting to see it for weeks. I’ve read so much about it. It’s by my favorite director. And I have this poster on my wall…well, you guys probably wouldn’t care. But anyway, I couldn’t find anyone to come with me. I guess there is a big football game on TV or something like that. That’s great that you saw the movie. So did you guys like it? What did you think of it? Was it clever?” Football game. That was a believable excuse.
¶ “Well, we have reservations at [chic restaurant] around the corner and [good looking boy] wanted to see a movie beforehand. It was the only thing playing at this theater. I thought it was a waste of time. Normally, I wouldn’t watch a film like this. But there was an article about it in the New York Times, so I agreed. I really wanted to see [major blockbuster hit that isn’t that good but everyone sees and says is ‘great!’]. All of my friends say that it’s great. If you haven’t bought your ticket yet, go see either movie at the theater on [generic street name in hometown] if nothing else, the seats are much more comfortable.”
¶ My eyes squinted, a sign that I had turned skeptical. She wouldn’t have known what it was implying. She didn’t know how I reacted to comments like that; she didn’t know who I was. I looked around at the older theater, at the eclectic city-crowd the movie was attracting, and I forgot what city I was in, yet realized I was home. True, I wasn’t surrounded by video arcades, or fancy lights, or comfortable seats with lots of legroom. I was at the movie theater going to see a movie that I had been waiting to see for months. I didn’t bring anybody with me, I wasn’t simply passing the time, or making a Friday night out of it. I couldn’t explain this to her though, too many years had passed between us. However, I didn’t have to explain it to the other lone moviegoers, the strangers in line behind me, who knew me better than she did. The girl to whom I no longer had something to prove.
¶ “I’ll take that into consideration, to see that other movie. Like I said, I have been anticipating this movie for a while so I think I want to give it a try myself. And I’m already downtown. Anyway, good luck with everything if I don’t see you around at home. And it was nice meeting you,” I said looking at her boyfriend. I wondered what he thought about the movie, as I went to the bathroom.

My Fact:

True, I wasn't in my hometown. I was in Squirrel Hill. The people who I could see were not old grade school acquaintances. They were "professional" acquaintances: ex-bosses, ex-professors, and fellow law students. True, it was during bar studies. But alone at 9:30 on a Friday night?

My story affirmed that I could "make it" in other cities that weren't my hometown. I guess those "other cities" include...um...Ann Arbor. I was still scared to see a movie by myself in Pittsburgh. At 9:30, I picked to wait to see Superman with K.

At 9:40 I walked up to the counter, still self-conscious of my decision. Was I regressing? I was so strong in my fiction story. Why was I so weak in real life? Did the bar take a toll on my self-esteem or was this who I was? Was I someone who cared that much about what other people would think if they saw me by myself on a Friday night? Why was I so hetero-normative and so anti-feminist? In both my story and in real life, I cared more about the men. The narrator's friend's boyfriend and now K. He was the one who told me about Brick last year, I couldn't go see it without him.

As I was thinking about all of these thoughts, berating myself in my own mind, I took out my money to buy the tickets for K and I. But, it was as if fate was toying with me. When I walked up to the counter, I saw that Brick actually started at 9:50. There was still 10 minutes. K may be able to get there on time.

"Two please for...wait, does Brick start at 9:50 or 9:30?"

"Oh you must have looked it up on the internet, the internet always has the wrong times. Brick starts at 9:50."

Actually, female teller, I texted Google. Please. The internet was so 5 years ago. Did I really just think that? Who was I turning into? "Two for Brick please. Wait, actually...can I call my friend?"

Before she heard me ask to call my friend, she rang up two tickets for Brick but she was sweet and said, "go right ahead."

I called Kirk and told him about the situation. He was parked on level five of his parking lot and wouldn't make it to the theater by 9:50. I told him it wasn't a big deal. We'd see Superman.

"I'm sorry, two for Superman." I quickly glanced at the tickets.

She sensed my worry but my deep feelings of betrayal probably were lost on her. She didn't know about my background. She didn't know about how lonely I felt. How I hated how I was constantly an outsider. How I felt that I never quite fit in with the "hipster" world (the one that is the real hipster world, the one that hates the word hipster & all who think they are hipsters, the people who are so pretentious they are better than that...) because of my background. And, how I could never fit into the "jappy" world that is my hometown because of my love of everything that is not mainstream in the mainstream (The Avalanches or Belle and Sebastian, for example, may be mainstream in the non-mainstream world but I'm sure most people from my high school don't listen to them (most people equals like 80%)) (although, someone just pointed out that it may be more because now these bands are on the O.C. and *swoon* Veronica Mars).

She interrupted my thoughts, "Don't worry about these. If you don't take them and that's the worst thing that happens to me tonight, I'll be in good shape."

I love when people say cliche things like that. It's pleasant. It reminds me of when I used to be a cashier at a fruit/flower stand and I would ring up an elderly gentlemen, "That's 19.42, Sir." And he would respond, "1942? That was a good year." And he would think about how clever he was as he counted his pennies.

This lady was the perfect teller. Not unconcerned but sweet. A man walked up behind me while I put the tickets to see Superman in my wallet. Fate had me in her hands again.

"One please for Brick at 9:50."

"One ticket?"

"Yes."

The teller looked over at me kindly, "See? We already got rid of one of them."

In her attempt to make me feel better, the teller made the service industry's deadliest mistake. When I was trained to be a hostess at a restaurant, my boss always stressed never to say, "Table for one?" If someone comes up by themselves simply ask if they want a table. They'll let you know if there is more than one in their party. You don't ever want to remind them that they are by themselves.

I felt horrible for the old man behind me. He was Harvey Pekar in American Splendor or Seymour in Ghost World. He probably thought I was judging him. He hated the teller for repeating him and asking "One ticket?" He hated me for being her ally.

I smiled back nervously. We were at the "hipster" movie theater in Squirrel Hill with the "hipster" clientele. In my story, these were my anonymous allies who gave me strength. Now, I was betraying them.

I wanted to whisper back to him that I was seeing Brick tomorrow night. I wanted to prove to him that he was buying one of my tickets. But that was useless and petty. I wanted to comfort the man behind me and tell him that although I am wearing fashionable clothes and he thinks I'm judging him, really he is my hero. He had the strength of my narrator. And I only had the strength to write about how I wish I could be like him.

Reviews of Superman Returns and Brick to come post-practice bar exam.

the best compliment

"if i was america, you would be my jack bauer"

(...i guess i'm one tough killing machine...)

3 essays to do tonight (1 makeup, 1 NJ, 1 PA). 3 more episodes of 24 season 5 to watch.

What's the game plan? Hour on. Hour off.

No spoilers until tomorrow!!

kiefer makes me swoon.

Insight

My friend had a very nice insight the other day. It was simple and it was true, which makes it the best kind of insight.

I was trying to explain how it's weird to talk to people when taking the bar. You don't want to talk to your friends about the bar because you want to be "normal." You don't want the bar to consume your life. You also need a break from the bar. You want to take a breather, relax, joke about the barbri lecturer's hair or the funny "states" the prep courses use in their hypos. (state of desire, state of innocence ... or ... New Hermont, Oreshington, Florabama).

but, you also need someone to talk to about the bar exam. wait, do you have to do a 403 analysis for all types of evidence questions? what are the exceptions? i'm confused. can you help me? and sometimes your friends will help you but sometimes they can't. and you know why. b/c sometimes you're that friend and, really, you can't have people asking you these stupid questions b/c they're confused and you're just gonna get confused and can they stop asking. plus, once your friend starts talking about the bar it's like a little light goes off in your head, wait, i can't talk about the bar or studying or study techniques. I have no time to talk. I have to just do.

so basically the conversation goes as follows:

Bar Exam Taker ("BET") 1: "are you watching the world cup?"

BET 2: "yeah. i'm a europhile. i love it."

BET 1: "do you favor argentina or germany?"

BET 2: "well, argentina has those two young guys, but germany - they're playing like rock stars - plus, home field advantage is huge."

BET 1: "yeah, i love the fatherland too. Hey, if one of the Germans kicks an Argentinian in the knee cap that would be awesome. Assuming that US law applies, think he can be charged with a battery?"

BET 2: "Um...."

BET 2 thinks in head: hrm...elements of a battery - prima facie case 1) harmful or offensive contact 2) to Argentinian 3) with intent and 4) causation....Wait, but i think there is some type of sports game special rule...

BET 2 still thinking to self: dude, self, i really should know this rule. i don't want to look like a dumbass to BET1, my dear friend and confidante who I really shouldn't be competing with anyway. damn, why do i compete with my friends? i'm really just competing with myself and damn self! how come you don't know this?

BET 2 nervous...

BET 2 decides to play the famous law student exit strategy to get out of a situation in which one is at risk of looking dumb: evade question and make other person look dumb. extra points if throw in esoteric factoid.

BET 2: "haha, you know that's not what the bar will ask. they'll ask something more like, what if he shoots him at a bar later that night after drinking tons of budweiser beer (*remember, because Anheuser Busch is a proud sponsor of the world cup*) b/c he's just not used to American beer and doesn't realize how drunk he is. FN1. can he be charged with common law murder?"

OMG now BET 1 realizes he really needs to get home to go over crim law. BET 1 totally doesn't know criminal homicide. is intoxication even a defense? was he sufficiently provoked? what about that battery question, BET 1 is still confused even as to simple battery. And is battery even a tort or is a crime? what's the difference? BET 1 starts to sweat. There's only one solution: use famous law student exit strategy.

BET 1: "Or, better yet, how about if the facts said that the Argentinian died after the German kicked him in the knee. But the World Cup Doctor, Doctor Feelgood, didn't rush onto the field right away because he just thought it was normal flopping even though it was the doctor's duty, according to the very special yet official "World Cup Doctor Hippocratic Oath", to run on the field at the first sight of blood. After the news broke the story of the German "death-kicker" and the "scared-of-a little blood" Doctor, leaving each of them to get numerous death threats from the Argentinian Single Soccer Mom's Mafia, known on the streets as the "Kickin' ASS Mom Mob", the autopsy shows that the Argentinian actually died from fright after seeing a Dutch fan wearing no 'trousers.' FN2. Who can be held criminally liable for the Argentinian's death then?"

Both exit scene terrified of how much they don't know about the law and how much it sucks that they're gonna miss the game tomorrow.

---

See? I'm not as simplistic as my friend.

His simple, very true statement sums up the one thing that sucks about the bar exam. It's 2 months of pure loneliness. You can't really be around people to study because you need to just sit there and do it. (and i mean, talk to people, not be in a public place). It's not even like first year exams because for exams (as Prof Whitebread says) you want to reach "level 3" of knowledge (out of 3 levels). You want to really know it deep down to your bones. For the bar exam, you don't. So there's no point to really sitting around talking about every little issue.

Still, you want to be around people. In fact, you need to be around people or else it's just you and the bar. and the bar isn't quite known as a self-esteem booster or even a "friend."

So that's the biggest problem with preparing for the bar. It makes you lonely.


--

FN1: "There has been a wider resentment in Germany that a US brewery has the exclusive rights in a country which prides itself on the quality of its beer and has very strict laws governing its composition."

FN2: "Football's governing body has explained why up to 1,000 Dutch fans watched a World Cup tie wearing no trousers.

Around 1,000 fans arrived for the Ivory Coast tie in their traditional bright orange trousers - but bearing the logo and name of a Dutch brewery.

To protect the rights of the official beer they were denied entry, so the male fans promptly removed the trousers and watched the game in underpants."

source of "esoteric" factoids 1 & 2:

Morbid Job Supreme Court

Excerpts from the Washington Post article

"The Kansas case was unique. The state law says juries should impose death sentences if aggravating evidence of a crime's brutality and mitigating factors explaining a defendant's actions are equal in weight."

"But the five conservatives, including Alito, overturned a Kansas Supreme Court ruling that found the law violated the Eighth Amendment's protection against cruel and unusual punishment."

"The American people have determined that the good to be derived from capital punishment _ in deterrence, and perhaps most of all in the meting out of condign justice for horrible crimes _ outweighs the risk of error. It is no proper part of the business of this court, or of its justices, to second-guess that judgment, much less to impugn it before the world ...," Scalia wrote.

Vanity Plates

One of my favorite parts of my drive to and from Philadelphia was the Vanity Plate Guessing Game!!

The rules:
1. look for vanity plates
2. guess what the vanity plates refer to

Examples from this weekend:

"No Noyz" (or something to that effect)

my guess - the driver made silencers for guns

"Mr. Zip"

my guess - the driver made jeans or ziplock bags or muzzles or has a last name like "pity-doo-dah"

I think vanity plates rock! (if only because they help me have fun on long car rides).

although, i think this guy thinks vanity plates rock more than i do.

and i don't think this (watch out! .pdf file!) is necessary. It's a general fact sheet for Vanity Plates in Pennsylvania (who knew about the demand?!), with rules like:

DEFINITION OF PERSONALIZED REGISTRATION PLATE:A personalized registration plate may contain up to seven letters and numbers in combination. One hyphen or one space is permitted, but not both. Special characters are not available.

The Department reserves the right to limit or reject certain requests.

i guess after seeing that list maybe its good the Department has authority to reject certain requests. Imagine if an elderly, fairly religious person in the middle of Pennsylvania (think: Grandma Amish) saw: "Sexx666".

Plus, imagine if your job was to receive and review the applications for vanity plates - it must make for great conversation.

"guess what license someone wanted today?"

"don't tell me. another sex addict? a tribute to the devil?"

"nope. those are a dime a dozen. I'll give you a clue. This one I accepted."

"Dr. 2th? WWJD? 1Eagles? PghStlr?"

"nope. Want another clue?"

"Yeah"

"Okay, here it is. At first, I thought the application was for a lil' old lady or a policeman but it was for someone who owns a gas station. turns out he has some humor."

"[blank stare]"

"pass me"

er....laughter? silence?...
(fine, maybe not so funny....)
(gosh, ya'll are a hard crowd).