Disclaimer: I hold no answers. I possess no inside knowledge. I have no idea why anyone should or should not go to law school. I do not know the key to surviving law school. And I certainly do not know the meaning of life. Now that I have sufficiently lowered the expectations, it is probably safe to proceed.

Why the Red Sox decided to go to the World Series during my first year of law school is incomprehensible. Part of me actually thinks this is some sort of a collaborative effort by the area law schools to make life tougher for us 1Ls (if it is - good job!). Good news is, they won game one. Schilling goes in game two tonight, and then the series goes to Colorado. So, here's the most important question in the world: when they play in Denver, without a DH, who do you sit? Papi? Lowell? Youk? Or put Lowell at short, Youk at third, Papi at first and sit Lugo? Put Youk in the outfield and sit J.D. "Hey, you can't boo me anymore because I hit a homerun once" Drew? I told you I had no answers.

Law school is a lot of work. In fact, it is the most work I have ever done in my life, and I worked for eight years between undergrad and here. The assignments are long, the reading is clear as mud and the time constraints brutal. This is what they warn you about, and it is true. However, it is not impossible to deal with it. First, you petition the powers that be to extend the day to 36 hours. When that doesn't work, you learn to take power-naps while you walk to and from class (occasionally being awakened by a violent collision with someone doing the same). Important thing to keep in mind is that it's fun.

When all the reading and all the lectures and all the notes fall into place, it is a glorious feeling. All of a sudden, everything makes sense, and all is logical. I'll let you know when that happens, but in the meantime, here's an actual transcript from an actual trial (taken from my civil procedure casebook):

Judge: Next witness.
Ms. Olchner: Your Honor, at this time I would like to swat Mr. Buck in the head with his client's deposition.
Judge: You mean read it?
Ms. O: No, sir. I mean to swat him in the head with it. Pursuant to Rule 32, I may use the deposition "for any purpose" and that is the purpose for which I want to use it.
Judge: Well, it does say that.
(pause)
Judge: There being no objection, you may proceed.
Ms. O: Thank you, Judge Hanes.
(Whereupon Ms. Olschner swatted Mr. Buck in the head with a deposition)
Mr. Buck: But Judge...
Judge: Next witness.
Mr. Buck: We object.
Judge: Sustained. Next witness.

You see, I told you: law school can be fun! Go sox!

And the Boston Red Sox are World Champions! That just never gets old.

In 2004 we forever said goodbye to chants of "1918! 1918!"
In 2007 we forever said goodbye to "talk to me in 86 years when you win your next one!"

Oh, and by the by, in case you haven't noticed, the Patriots are undefeated and winning their games by almost four touchdowns. It's not a bad time to be a sports fan in Boston.

Life is full of compromises. Law school is full of impossible compromises. Do you get all your reading done for class, or do you get enough sleep so you can better participate? Do you go to the really interesting lecture given by professor Enrich about arguing a case at the Supreme Court, or do you prepare for a quiz in Civil Procedure? Do you go the ACLU-sponsored David Cole lecture, or to the inexplicably time-conflicting Federalist society-sponsored presentation on the power of Congress over the Constitution?

Sometimes, the answer lies in something you actually learned. Take for example the concept of balancing considerations. The societal good that is exhibited by a certain action may mitigate the risk associated with it. I got to apply this concept this past weekend, as the risk of not getting enough sleep and falling hopelessly behind in all my reading was weighed against the societal good of my presence at a bar near Fenway for the last two games of the World Series. Societal good won, my voice lost, and I am still catching up on that reading, but it was, of course, totally worth it.

Of course, I did get cold-called in my Torts class, the morning after the clinching game (I swear, some professors just have a sixth sense for who to pick on and when), but I am told that my answers did not make people envision me piloting the Hindenburg, so I'm chalking this one up as a draw.

My first writing class taught me that a good story has a beginning, a middle and an end. In that same class, I also learned not to ingest my crayons and that girls dislike it when you pull their hair (kindergarten was a good time). Since a blog is really just a story that you write in chapters (though, admittedly without a clue as to what the next chapter entails), it would be nice to start it with some sort of contextual background, to provide a foundation. Well, you can thank the Red Sox, the Patriots and "unforeseen technical difficulties" for making sure we started on a nice random Thursday. Let’s see if we can’t make amends.

First, let’s address the proverbial elephant in the room: this is a busy time of the year for those looking to go to law school. Writing essays, filling out applications, and still managing whatever your life throws at you (work, school, etc). Unsolicited advice flying back and forth, the nerve-racking process of picking the schools to apply to, and then the schools to visit, and then, if you’re lucky to have a choice, the school to finally attend. Since I had to deal with it, I feel it only fair if I contribute to the level of stress in some way. Three pieces of unsolicited, completely personal, unaffiliated with anyone or anything advice:
1. Make sure to have plenty of people proof-reading your essays. Impose on family, friends, neighbors, strangers, even the crazy guy on the street corner that told you the world was ending. You don’t have to follow their advice, but it’s nice to have as many points of view as possible (who knows, maybe he is just a really stressed-out 1L).
2. Sit in on a class. I didn’t do enough of this, and it made it much more difficult for me to decide on which school to go to. By attending a 1L class you will see not only what the class itself is like, but also what the students in the school are like, and that can be very important. Just stay away from Civil Procedure classes, their lack of excitement will cause you to want to impale yourself in the eye with your pencil half-way through.
3. The only other thing to say is: relax. In the words of Van Wilder "worrying is like a rocking chair, it gives you something to do, but it doesn’t get you anywhere."

And now, for something completely different: law school is turning out to be pretty useful in real life. Having covered assumption of risk in my Torts class, I now know that I do not need to shovel all the snow off the sidewalk in front of my house after a snowstorm to prevent being liable to a neighbor who slips and falls on said sidewalk (he assumed the risk of walking on a snow-covered sidewalk). This is important in these parts, because it does snow quite a bit. Of course, I do not own a house, much less a sidewalk, but those are minor details. Property is teaching us the difference between leases, licenses and easements, which has made sure that any house I own in the future will be surrounded by a fence with razor wire on top of it, a moat with some alligators in it and "No Trespassing" signs every twenty feet. In the meantime, CivPro is reminding me precisely why I decided to forego three years of social activities, salary and sanity and try my hand at this law stuff. The dissenting opinion in one of our assigned cases showed a judge struggling to understand what this whole Internet thing is all about – just imagine the precedent he would have set if he found some other judges to agree with him!

I took the LSAT the same week that I proposed to my now-wife, which prompted a recently-divorced friend to call me what can most politely be described as a relatively unintelligent donkey. To this day, I am not sure which major event in my life he was referring to, but this brings up a good point: why does an engineer go to law school?

I can answer this question with no more authority or certainty than I could tell you why people fall in love. It just happens. One day you wake up and you realize that you want to be in law school. Perhaps it is because of law’s (sometimes) logical reasoning. Maybe you want to help those less fortunate than you. Perhaps you like money. Maybe the weight of law books appeals to you as a way to save on gym dues. Remember, also, that the quickest way to a doctorate degree is through law school (only three years)! Maybe you like wearing suits (something engineers never get to do). Perhaps your friends have disowned you for continuously playing the devil’s advocate and that got you thinking. Maybe you read a law blog and got excited (doubtful, but hey, stranger things have happened).

Regardless the reason, the problem for us engineers is that we don’t do feelings. So leaving a nice job, foregoing three years of salary and paying tuition plus living expenses just because you woke up one morning and realized you wanted to try this law “thing��? is not exactly our cup of tea. In fact, it’s downright crazy.

I guess my point is that sometimes crazy can be a good thing.

On a completely unrelated topic, I am going to break one of the rules we agreed to in my first posting. I now hold the answer to getting all your work done in law school. Unfortunately, it is quite costly once you run out of frequent-flyer miles. What you need is:
1. A round-trip plane ticket to a destination on the West coast (I prefer Seattle)
2. An airline that does not believe in providing you with your own TV (I prefer United)
3. The movie "License to Wed" to be the in-flight "entertainment" on the way there and "Hairspray" on the way back
4. A little bit of luck so you are not sitting next to a screaming baby

If there is a better way to make sure you have no distractions, I have not found it.

I am now off to work on my third (and one can only hope final) transition assignment for that quintessential Northeastern gift to a legal education: LSSC. Let’s just say I’m approaching it with the reluctance of Flick approaching that metal pole with his tongue in "A Christmas Story."

I hate turkeys. They are ugly, big, loud and nasty birds who like to chase innocent little six-year-old future law students while creating an untold amount of emotional distress, not to mention the physical damage associated with scraped knees and bloody noses. (Can you tell I am in full review mode for finals? What gave it away?) Have you ever seen a turkey fly? It’s not pretty. They helicopter up, and then swoop down, with enough noise to make you think the world is ending. So, imagine my surprise when one of these graceless creatures wandered into traffic on my way to school the other day. I live in Boston, which, last I checked was a city. Moreover, it’s almost December, which in New England means snow, ice, wind and skiing; it does not mean turkeys. Turkeys in the middle of the road are simply not expected, and should not be allowed. This sets a bad precedent, as far as I am concerned.

Thanksgiving came and went, and much like every other member of a 1L class anywhere in this country, I spent the bulk of it writing outlines. Actually, that should read outline, singular, because the only thing I accomplished is my CivPro outline. While I have been told that a proper CivPro outline can stretch to as many as 40 pages (and sometimes spawns its own outline), I am just not that ambitious (or loquacious) and so mine is considerably shorter, which is impressive for a subject that deals with situations that prompt judges to write this: "Our principle task… is to determine what the New York courts would think the California courts would think on an issue about which neither has thought." I was pretty bummed about the outline taking up my entire break, but then I read that quote and instantly felt better.

Well, that, and I had some turkey, which means there’s at least one less of those buggers to potentially clog up traffic on my way home today. Trust me, when in law school, it’s good to appreciate the little things. Otherwise, you just think about all the work, and co-op applications and finals, and then, you just go crazy.

First things first, can someone with connections please tell the Patriots that it’s ok to win all their games by 46 points or more? My schedule does not allow for games that go to the wire. I can safely dedicate a quarter, maybe two to a game, but watching the whole thing results in borrowing time from somewhere else, and since I refuse to borrow it from studying, I am dipping into the sleep "reserves." At this point, I am not scheduled to sleep until January 7th. Oh, and for those of you who think the pats are cheaters, here’s a link: Sports Law Professor

In other news, it’s almost finals time. I won’t bore you with the details. Yes, there are exams in law school, yes they are tough, and yes people freak out. If someone does something totally nutty during one of my exams, I’ll be sure to share, even if it’s me.

In other, other news, we read an interesting case for Property, that I’d like to share (Intel Corp. v. Hamidi for those playing at home). The gist is that an ex-employee of Intel gets an employee directory and starts sending out emails to all the employees that disparage Intel’s hiring practices. Predictably, Intel sues, but on what grounds? Intel claims that Hamidi’s emails constitute a trespass to chattels, which is a fancy way of saying that they violate a property right associated with non-real (not land) property, which is a legalese way of saying someone’s messing with my stuff. The case is brought in California, which is fortuitous, because the Supreme Court of that state turns out to be reasonably versed in computers. As a software engineer (and until I get to write that Esq. at the end of my name, I will continue to claim to be one), nothing scares me more than a bunch of "outsiders" trying to regulate technology. The court splits four ways in their decision, but the casebook authors thought only three of those were important:

The majority explains that a trespass to chattels, under CA law, requires actual damages to the chattel (property in question). They use this to differentiate this case from those of spammers sued by Internet Service Providers (ISPs) whose computers crashed or were otherwise affected by the spam. Intel’s contention that the emails cause a loss of productivity, while legitimate, are not enough to be compensable under their theory of the case as trespass. Basically, with spammers, the objection is to the volume of the communication, whereas in this case, the objection is to the content. The court entertains the idea of expanding the law to cover this case, but decides that would be too radical a solution. The consequences of treating computer networks, and more importantly, websites as private property for which you need permission to "enter," can be catastrophic – imagine receiving an email with a link which you cannot click until you obtain permission from the owner of the site linked to.

The first dissenting opinion chooses to see it differently. As they see it, Intel’s objection is not to the content of the email, but the fact that the defendant is using Intel’s computers to deliver it. They decide that while authorities disagree on how to handle these cases, they do agree that the plaintiff should be able to preclude the defendant form repeatedly trespassing in this manner. Since Intel’s attempts at blocking the emails ultimately failed, the court sees an injunction as proper in this case. Without it, the law gives Intel a right to exclude unwanted communication, but does not give them a way to carry out this right.

The last dissenting opinion differentiates between the Internet and an intranet (a company’s internal network). They make analogies to driveways, which, while attached to public roadways, are not open to all sorts of protesters. A further analogy is made to a company’s mailroom, in that Hamidi, in sending his emails, is basically commandeering the mail cart, and delivering mail to each employee. So, if Hamidi were to send the emails to the employees at home, there would be no problem.

The law that comes out of the case is that, in CA, you need to prove damages in order to be able to sue in this situation, but there are more important questions. Did the court get it right? Why? Why not? Was one of the dissents better? Why do we care?

Mark Twain once gave a speech at the New England Society’s annual dinner (which inexplicably was held in New York), that contained the following quote:

"If we hadn't our bewitching autumn foliage, we should still have to credit the weather with one feature which compensates for all its bullying vagaries -- the ice-storm: when a leafless tree is clothed with ice from the bottom to the top -- ice that is as bright and clear as crystal; when every bough and twig is strung with ice-beads, frozen dew-drops, and the whole tree sparkles cold and white, like the Shah of Persia's diamond plume."

With all due respect to one of America’s greatest authors – bull crap! The trees may look glorious indeed, but when I am chiseling out my car from its cocoon of ice, I fail to see the beauty. Furthermore, I’d like to send what the kids call a "shout out" to our dear friend Mr. Murphy, because true to his laws, my scraper was ensconced in my trunk this morning, which made this process that much more interesting and entertaining for the neighbors, as I am sure I was only one Moe and Larry away from a complete episode of the Three Stooges. Nyuk-nyuk!

In other news, we’re in the middle of what is called reading week. Perhaps a better name for it was given by my Torts professor when he called it hell week. The reason why this week is so tough is simple: there are no classes. It seems counter-intuitive at first, but in reality, when studying for finals, classes are actually more like breaks. They also help to organize the day into segments such as morning, afternoon and evening. Without classes, the hours of the day cease to have meaning, and everything runs together. For example, right now it’s close to midnight, but it feels like morning to me.

The good news is that at 1:00pm on Wednesday the 19th of December, 2007 our first semester of law school will have officially ended. We will have survived, and as the saying goes, if it doesn’t kill you, it makes you into a lawyer. On second thought, that might not be quite right, but oh well. At any rate, finals will be over, and we will have our winter break to do with as we please. Well, except the monstrous amount of reading we have to do for our LSSC class, which is starting to behave like a rash that just won’t go away (our entire first week of spring semester is devoted to this class). Perhaps this is the appropriate time to mention that winter breaks in law school are not nearly as long as they are for most undergrads. We are off from the 20th of December to the 2nd of January, which is just long enough to taste freedom, but not long enough to not want to come back. I think they do this on purpose, like the intermission between acts in a play – make it too long and people don’t always come back.

In non-law-school news, the Patriots are playing the Jets this weekend. That was the punch-line, please provide your own joke.

"All this horsepower and no room to gallop." – Jim Carrey as Bruce Allmighty.

For those of you keeping score at home, I have now quoted the great Mark Twain exactly the same number of times as I have Jim Carrey. I think I’m going to go ahead and leave that off my list of accomplishments on my resume.

By the way, I take back what I said about no one reading these blogs. I do this not because Brian (with an I!) accused me of not only having something called a legal soul but also of pouring it out, which I am pretty certain would be a misdemeanor in 49 states (I do appreciate the sentiment, however), but because the mythical "powers that be" read my rather ineloquent complaint about ice storms and dumped a foot of snow on my head. The day before the first final of my legal career! Nice. Awesome. Thanks.

Don’t get me wrong – I love snow. First of all, snow means skiing, but it also allows for some of the most fun you can have in a car without being arrested. For instance: look, a donut***. So, imagine emerging from the library which closes due to the rapidly falling snow to find that the world around you has been covered in roughly six inches of fluffy snow. An empty parking lot served as my sandbox for a good ten minutes before I started attracting enough attention to charge admission, at which point I decided to wrap it up and go home. Two hours later, my three-mile long commute ended, and I was one of the lucky ones, as I’ve heard of people spending 7 hours sitting on busses, or having to dump their cars because they ran out of gas after idling for a few hours sitting in gridlock. So, to recap, snow = good, two hour commute home = bad.

Why does this happen? Why is it that the first real snowstorm of the year always makes people forget how to drive? This is New England, folks, it snows here every winter! Without fail, the first storm of the year always snarls traffic, confounds snowplows and wreaks general havoc. By March or April, with the last of the storms, all the drivers are pros at handling the white stuff, and everything flows smoothly, but by the time next winter rolls around, poof, the knowledge is gone and everyone acts like they have never seen snow before.

As a public service, and mostly in an attempt to prevent more two-hour long commutes home, I will now use this space to talk about proper driving technique in the snow, which can really be summed up in three words: No sudden movements.

This means no sudden stops, no sudden starts and no sudden turns. When you get stuck in some snow (and you will get stuck in snow at one point or another), rocking the car back and forth is the way to get unstuck, not mashing the gas pedal and pointing the steering wheel in the direction you want to go. Without divine intervention that will only lead to the spinning of a wheel, the smell of burning rubber and sometimes, if you are really lucky, a sideways shimmy into a snow bank which is entertaining for everyone but you. When starting from a stop pick something other than your lowest forward-facing gear, this reduces the torque applied to the wheels, and reduces the chances of them spinning in place. If your car picks your gears for you (I think the young kids call this an automatic), then read your manual to see if putting the lever into ‘2’ will allow you to actually start in second gear (most imports will, most domestics won’t). Here’s a special tip for SUV drivers: they call it four wheel drive, not four wheel stop, and there’s a reason for that which is self-explanatory, but you can try to prove everyone wrong, just make sure to have your insurance payments up to date.

One last tip: if you see a small four-door passing everyone by using the unplowed, snow-drift covered lane do not assume that you can do the same, because chances are that little car is equipped with all-wheel-drive, a manual transmission, a proper set of snow tires and someone who has not forgotten how to drive in the snow; all of which enable it to drive through the snow as if the roads were clear. I do admit, though, I derive entirely too much guilty pleasure out of watching people try to follow only to get themselves stuck, which inevitably leads to them mashing that gas pedal to try and get out....

*** Disclaimer: the driver in that link is not me, and it’s not my car, I don’t even know who it is, but I am sure that it is a professional driver on a closed course, using superhuman strength and powers, please do not attempt, product may glow in the dark, be harmful if swallowed, batteries not included, laws of physics still apply and all that jazz. Besides, that guy really needed more snow.

"OK, so that first turn is a sharp left, around that tree there, but then you kind of just want to duck under that tree you can’t see from here, and then it’s all downhill, well, unless you miss that right down there, and then it can get a little hairy…" – a friend explaining the proper sequence of events that need to occur to keep me from never being heard from again.

That was about the time that I stopped thinking about my finals. Three runs into my much-delayed start to the ski season, following a gaggle of friends into "the woods" at my favorite east-coast ski mountain, I finally realized that if I failed to concentrate on the task at hand, and kept thinking about whether the torts final required me to talk about the Hand formula or not, that I’d end up hugging a tree in a way that was not conducive to my continued ability to breathe… or worse, I’d find that "little" cliff that these guys keep telling me to avoid. A few well-timed turns and a head-first plop into a mound of soft snow later, I found myself surrounded by some of the most beautiful terrain you can picture.

I spent three days on that mountain, with spotty cell phone reception, no internet, and certainly no law books. We talked about the Pats, the Celts, the fact that some of us are getting old(er) and told war stories from each day. We traded tips on how to keep your edges on ice for advice on how to handle snow that easily goes above your waist. We argued over which local brew was better and whether it was possible to ski off the roof of the condo into the parking lot without breaking anything expensive. In other words, for three glorious days I felt like I wasn’t in school – and that was the best gift anyone could have given me.

Happy holidays!

Choosing a law school is serious business. Quality of education, career prospects, interests of faculty and fellow students all play a role. Having just completed my first assignment for the "Spring" semester, may I humbly suggest that the length of winter break should also play a role in any decision? I realize this may put NU at a disadvantage, with a rather scant fourteen day break, but I am not here to recruit anyone to the institution I call home; I just report on what life is like inside its walls. I am also a bit miffed, to say the least, that it was not Crim or Constitution or Contracts that summoned me back to school exactly two weeks after the remnants of my brain were squeezed dry during my last final of the first semester. The culprit was instead LSSC, with a research plan to contemplate and execute and committees to form and "working rules" to re-establish. For those of us who have spent some time in the real world between undergrad and here – it is all a little too reminiscent of corporate team-building sessions – and that places us all a little too close to "trust falls with Ned from accounting."

Random notes from break (in no particular order):
1. The state of New Jersey owes me a windshield, as while I was traversing that magnificent stretch of parking lot known as the New Jersey Turnpike, an SUV the size of a small house kicked up what I can only assume was a rock of Martian origins directly into my windshield. Not only did this rock cause a crater which will require the windshield’s replacement, but it also obscured my view of the beautiful petrochemical refinery plants along the highway, and that is simply criminal.
2. There is no justifiable reason to show me a Jets game (even in NJ), when the Patriots are playing the Dolphins, their undefeated season is on the line, some records can be broken and the Jets are statistically eliminated from the playoffs until 2012 or so. None. I will not be swayed on this.
3. It’s good to feel human again, even if it’s only for two weeks.

And in case you are wondering what I was doing in New Jersey for a part of my break… let’s just say that married life is full of compromises.

Remember the time in your life when a snow day was a good thing? When did that change?

I am not sure, to tell you the truth, because snow days were still good senior year of high school (actually they were awesome, since they didn’t have to be made up at the end of the year), but now I realize that the classes I miss today will be made up later, and that I must figure out a way to do the research I was going to do at the law library from home, which definitely makes the snow day nothing more than an inconvenient way to start a week. So, using some of that logical reasoning that they test for on the LSAT and then proceed to drown you in during your first year, I am thinking snow days must have gone from good to bad while I was in college. However, I have no way to prove this, as I went to school in upstate New York, where they did not cancel class for mere snow.

While we are on the subject of canceling class because of a little snow, let’s also discuss notification methods. In the good-old days you used to wake up early on days you expected a lot of snow and listened to this device called a radio (if you don’t know what this, don’t worry about it, it was a box that sang songs and gave you news before mp3 players and podcasts). As technology progressed, we moved into watching TV in the morning to see if your school (or something that you could convince your parents looked reasonably enough like your school) was listed. I cannot say that I ever missed a snow day announcement using either of these two methods, so why is it that we needed to change them?

Having gone to bed at 2AM when my first class is not until 10:30AM, I was assured of plenty of sleep. Please note that for a law student, six hours is considered plenty. So, imagine my displeasure at being awakened by a ringing cell phone in the other room at 5:55AM. My hopes for just ignoring it and going back to sleep were dashed when I got a polite elbow to the side, which had the dual benefit of springing me to action and also giving me a preview of what having kids might be like. Reaching the phone just in time for it to stop ringing, I noticed a few things. First, the phone was pink, which made it belong to the friendly elbow and not me. Second, neither the phone nor I knew the number, which means some stranger out there somewhere just moved past Ralph Nader on my list of people I don’t particularly like. I mumbled something I am not about to repeat and dragged myself back to bed. Just as my head hit the pillow, the same phone (which I left in the other room) started to beep to let the entire world know it now has a voicemail. What kind of a (insert your own descriptive adjective here) calls a wrong number and then leaves a voicemail? Deciding the voicemail was not worth another trip out of bed, I closed my eyes. This is when the other cell phone started to ring.

Now, my background is in computers, which means I took some statistics and probability classes in my life, and let’s just say that the odds of two wrong-number calls to two different cell phones that just happen to reside in the same house are well near zero. So, I immediately assume the worst. Someone I know or care about is either seriously hurt or dead. The call is coming from the hospital, or a bystander, or a police officer, or who knows where. I jump out of bed, completing a triple-Salchow or whatever it’s called when you clear the foot of the bed in a manner that likely prevents you from ever having kids and stumble to the phone, while tripping over something that sounds expensive as it shatters all over the floor. I get there just in time to hear a cheerful guy named Bill tell me (via recording) that NU has cancelled classes for the day due to snow. So, that’s nice. My heart-rate returns to normal just in time to receive a text message which also tells me that just in case I didn’t know, school is cancelled. I also received an email (which thankfully did not make noise and so went unnoticed until later), just in case. I guess the carrier pigeon had the flu, so he couldn’t make it.

I bring this long-winded entry to a close by asking a simple question: what was wrong with just putting the school-closing notice on TV? Embracing new technology, we could put it on a website where everyone could see it before heading in to school. What exactly is the benefit of treating a snowstorm as if the world is ending? I already know the downside.

A quick note for those of you applying to schools right now: if you have already figured out how to function on three hours of sleep a night, you are ahead of the ballgame. I, on the other hand, am a slow learner, so I apologize in advance if this particular post is even less cohesive than normal.

So, in absolutely no order, some random thoughts:

LSSC is a four-letter word. This is not a coincidence. This is also as much as I can say before NUSL figures out a way to electrocute me through my own keyboard. Let’s just say that if we add up all the hours my team has spent on this project over the last two weeks, it would qualify as cruel and unusual punishment in at least forty-nine states.

Evaluations (that’s our version of grades) come out tomorrow.

The Giants went into Green Bay and ruined what would have been a perfect Payback-Superbowl for the Patriots. I still can’t say the words Desmond "bleeping" Howard without that "bleeping" in there, and that game was eleven years ago.

The Model Penal Code turns out to not be an ideal that all states should model their penal codes after, since it requires proving a state of mind (recklessness, knowledge or purpose) with regards to each element of a crime. In clearer terms, statutory rape would not be a crime unless the perpetrator was at least reckless in not knowing his victim was under the age of consent. Common-sense suggests that any illegal act with someone under the age of consent should be punishable, regardless of the perpetrator’s knowledge of the actual age of the victim. I’d like to now petition to change the name from Model Penal Code to Impractical Penal Code.

The Uniform Commercial Code is not uniform, in that the states adopt their own versions of it, which differ from each other.

I am starting to feel a little like Inigo Montoya in The Princess Bride: "You keep using that word. I do not think it means what you think it means."

All good things must come to an end. Why they have to come to an end at the hands of a member of the Manning family, I will never know. As we stood there, slack jawed after the Giants had just completed an improbable upset, I kept thinking one thing – this cannot possibly be happening. In the words of the inimitable Bill Simmons: "Eli Manning gave me the Manning face." This sentiment is sure to have been shared across many a football-watching household in these parts on Sunday night. The Patriots, the team that had been discussed as the best team ever assembled, had just lost to the Giants, a team that had been lucky to even be in the Superbowl. The team of destiny was taken down by a team led by "the other" Manning. How is this even remotely possible?

Looking back at it, not only was it possible, but an argument can be made that it was absolutely necessary. Much has been written about the new-found bravado of the Boston sports fan. Discussing this after the game on Sunday, we came to the conclusion that there were not ten actual New England fans that thought we might lose that game. The same way that there were not ten Red Sox fans that did not think they would come back and beat the Indians on their way to the World Series. In less than a decade we went from expecting our teams to lose in key situations to expecting them to win no matter what.

Earlier in the season, the Patriots had shirts made which read "Humble Pie" on the front and "I eat it" on the back. The coach got a shirt that read "I serve it" instead. Well, perhaps the Giants should have had a few of those coach’s shirts made as well. As for the fans… well, perhaps we need a little dose of reality and humility as well. And if this causes some members of the "pink hat"*** crowd to fall off the bandwagon, then perhaps it was worth it. I’d argue that this remains true even if we have to put up with a few "18-1" chants for a while.

In the law-school world, we’ve moved into murder and the various excuses that can "downgrade" it to manslaughter, which makes one wonder whether people go to law school in order to learn the law or in order to learn how to avoid culpability for their actions. Contracts reading for this evening involves agreements between family members, primarily spouses. I was happy to learn that my pre-law-school promise to regularly do the dishes (and the subsequent breach of this promise) cannot be seen as a breach of a contract, implied or otherwise, because the agreement did not change the nature of my marital relationship. To tell you the truth, I am not entirely sure I know what that means… other than: I don’t have to do the dishes.

***Clarification: there is nothing wrong with owning a pink hat, if that happens to be the color you like and you are a fan of the team. I use the term as a way of describing all the newfound Pats/Celts/Sox fans who have come out of the woodwork in recent years and will disappear again the second the teams stop winning regularly.

At the risk of reversing the gravitational pull of the planet by making it stop spinning: I owe an apology to the state of New Jersey. I am going to go ahead and let that sink in for a second...

When last I mentioned that fine locale (known to some as the armpit of the country), I may have suggested that the state collectively owed me a new windshield. As some of you might remember, my windshield had a close personal encounter with a rock the size of Jason Giambi’s head. While this did not result in an immediate crack, I used my finely-tuned analytical skills, and a little something the lawyers like to call precedent, to deduce that the chip left behind would surely spread. I am positive it would have if I hadn’t written about it, but because I did -- the windshield remains completely crack-free. One could see this as a sign from above telling me that my analytical skills leave something to be desired, but I prefer to be positive and think that this is yet another time in my life when the laws of physics have failed to work in the way I expected them to (gravity being the first of many disagreements I had with those). At any rate, I apologize to the state of New Jersey... it does not owe me a windshield.

As you may have seen from Ira’s blog -- today was indeed NUSL’s Alumni Connections event. I think the most important thing to take away from an event like that is how many different areas of law were represented by graduates of this law school. From solo practitioners to government agencies to corporations big and small to big law firms and boutique firms concentrating in intellectual property, there was someone there to represent any area of law you can think of. It helps to remind those of us not necessarily interested in public-interest law that there are others like us, even at this school. It also allows us to pick the brains of those who came before us. From what courses to take to what co-ops help you in the long run to what the responsibilities of a general counsel to a start-up really entail -- the answers are out there, provided you have the questions.

While I vehemently disagree that it is all about who you know (I have to, as an engineer, I was born without the ability to small-talk), I can certainly agree that getting advice from people who are passionate about what they do and knowledgeable on how to get there is invaluable. Having been both the "schmoozer" and the "schmoozee" at events such as this, I offer only one piece of advice: be yourself. Ask questions you really want the answers to. Don’t approach it from a "how can this person help me later" standpoint, instead, approach it from a "what can I learn from this person" standpoint.

So, overall, my sincere thanks go out to the people that put this event together. Not only was it a resounding success in its own right, but it was a welcome break from the three C’s (Constitutional Law, Criminal Justice and Contracts) and that other course the name of which I do not even want to mention.

February has always been a pretty dull month. Skiing-wise it was always a bit of a let-down, because more than half of it is lost to President's day and school vacation weeks. For those of you who have yet to experience the joys of skiing during a school vacation week, let me save you the trouble and the money: put on your skis, your goggles and your helmet, then go out onto Storrow Drive, face the opposite way of traffic, and try to dodge traffic. Please note that the helmet is a very important part of this process. It also makes a lot of sense to have good medical insurance.

However, fear not -- NU has a solution: a vacation week in February that does not coincide with school vacation week! It is possible to see this as a negative -- no one else has their spring break this early, so if one was looking to get filmed by MTV while doing something inappropriate somewhere sunny, it's just not going to happen. I choose to see this as a positive, though. The mountains will be emptier, and the lodging will be cheaper. I can't wait.

As far as classes go -- not much has changed. Con Law still feels like moving around in a fog, but it is getting a little bit clearer. The different levels of scrutiny the courts apply in deciding whether something violates the Equal Protection Clause can be made to make sense, with enough effort. Crim had us shift from murder to rape -- just in case we weren't completely depressed about the levels of depravity in our society. What makes it worse, if that's even possible, is when you read a rape case and disagree with the outcome. A good example is a PA case where a 63 year-old's conviction for rape was overturned because the appeals court ruled that because he told the 14 year-old daughter of his girlfriend that she had a "choice" of either performing sexual acts on him or going back to juvenile hall he did not force her into anything, since she had a "choice" and all. My use of scare-quotes around the word choice should explain how I feel on the subject. Contracts has us moving into mistakes and misunderstandings -- which are always a good time. Imagine being in a room when two people think they are talking about the same thing, but aren't. Fun, right? Now imagine the same, but in a legal setting. It's like the age-old saying: the difference between comedy and tragedy is perspective. When you fall down, it's a tragedy, when someone else does, it's comedy.

LSSC gets its own paragraph. We handed in our latest draft of our project last week. There is still some research to be done and a lot of editing and re-writing, but it looks like we are in decent shape. The school asked for student suggestions on how to improve the program a while ago, which shows that they are willing to work to make it better. If it were up to me, however, I'd make it better by not making it mandatory (of course, it's not up to me). So, for me, LSSC is like cottage cheese -- I hate it, but someone thinks it's good for me, so I keep having it force fed to me. As I learned from my experience with Grandma and the cottage cheese -- it's better to just grin, bear it, and eat it quickly.

To all of you waiting to hear back from schools: try to relax... as hard as that is to do sometimes... in the end everything always works out!

There is something incredibly satisfying about cresting that last foot-hill on the way to your favorite ski mountain. The snowbanks flanking the narrow one-lane road, rising high above the roof of the car, the smoke wafting from chimneys of lonely little houses that dot the landscape, the smell of clean air -- they invite you to forget about life and enjoy yourself the way you would if you were young again. In fact, around these parts, nature has done everything to encourage leaving your 9-5 life behind. There are no supermarkets, cars without snow tires do not exist, and a snowmobile raced me along the highway earlier. People say "Hello" to complete strangers and offer to help out-of-towners (without an ulterior motive). The self-service island at the gas station means that no less than three people will be out there helping you to pump your own gas, even though you'd prefer they didn't -- simply to make conversation. There are no cell-phones, because there are no cell phone towers (no signal) -- no matter how much the gentleman riding the chair in front of mine wants to think that waving his hand with the phone in it will change the situation. People take their time speaking, they even take their time driving, they take their time doing everything -- because there is no rat race. There is no finish line, real or imaginary that one has to cross. In a word -- this is paradise.

However, even paradise has its limits. Wireless internet is creeping steadily into most places where one can stay up here -- man's answer to nature's attempt at isolation. The feeling of guilt for having left my books and laptop at home the last time I was here lasted weeks, and so in an attempt to appease my subconscious, I brought them. This means that tonight, instead of listening to something called "The Skinkx" play at the local bar, while truly enjoying life with the locals, I will be writing the "facts" section of my motion in opposition to summary judgment for my writing class -- guaranteed to be about as much fun as repeatedly poking yourself in the eyeball with your pencil (please do not try this at home). It's a trade-off, a compromise, a way to straddle the divide between paradise and real life -- a way to enjoy the present and what the future will bring.

The moral of the story is simple: find your paradise and make sure you spend some time there, and if you have to bring your work with you -- at least wait until the lifts are closed before bringing it out.

One last thing: think snow! Because getting snowed-in in up here certainly wouldn't be the worst thing to ever happen to me.

This being a rather slow time sports-wise for me, and having already covered skiing in my posting from the upper reaches of Vermont, I find myself having to actually write about something substantive. I apologize in advance for the inconvenience.

I often get asked about the challenges of law school, and while the long days (and nights) spent reading cases, the mountains of research for the writing course and the constant threat of being the subject of a discombobulating question from a professor that makes you feel like you should be in a SouthWest commercial (want to get away?) are all things to worry about, the toughest it seems is the need to check some of our preconceptions at the door.

Law school, by definition is something you cannot do until you have graduated from high school and college. Increasingly, more and more people also spend some time after college working in the "real world" before going back to school. This gives us all a level of experience with the way things work (or at least should work) which we bring with us. The problem is, the law doesn't always agree with our experiences, and at times, it disagrees with common sense. It should surprise no one that the intricacies of the law are not always sensical (webster's dictionary tells me that I just made this word up, but I refuse to believe it) and require a decent amount of interpretation (otherwise, why would we need lawyers?), but the law has a knack for taking big every-day concepts and turning them on their head.

Here are two stories:

1. Two college freshmen live in the same dorm. One afternoon they engage in consensual intercourse (that's lawyer-speak for "doing it"). Then they go their separate ways, only to "reconnect" later on in the evening, at which point the "gentleman" claims that they went at it again, while the "lady" claims that she didn't want to, and that it was rape.

2. A 63-year-old man tells the 14-year-old daughter of his girlfriend that she has two options. The first option is to satisfy him carnally (lawyer-speak again, sorry). The second is to be removed from the home and placed in a juvenile facility. She has sex with him.

If you were asked which one of these was the clearer instance of rape, which would you pick? Let's assume you'd pick #2 (and if this assumption is wrong, feel free to tell me why in the comments). Our common sense tells us that the scenario there is much farther over the line of propriety than the scenario in the first case. What if I were to tell you that the court in the first case ruled that it was rape (while simultaneously deciding that the defendant was entitled to a theory of defense he did not get, but not allowing him to call for that theory now) and that the second was not, because the victim had a "choice"? You would shake your head, mutter something about lawyers and, if you have a teenage daughter, you'd make sure she only applied to colleges where she could live at home. Please note that the law is not completely nuts, and case #2 can still result in a conviction for statutory rape, but that carries less of a penalty than "pure" rape. Regardless, reading cases like these, or ones dealing with the death penalty makes it difficult to reconcile what you think is right with what the courts end up deciding actually is right. Worse than that, there is a fear that with every one of these cases, every one of these decisions we move farther away from the common sense we came in with and closer to these judges that have grown very out of touch with reality. The last thing I want to do is be a lawyer first and a human being second.

So, that's it in a nutshell -- the toughest part of law school is staying human. I guess I could have just said that to start with, huh?

I think it is official: law school requires you to re-invent yourself. For example, I am currently taking a break from reading my Crim homework to write this posting. Of course, I was only reading the Crim homework as a way of taking a break from peer-editing the latest draft of our LSSC deliverable. In my pre-law school days it was sufficient to only have one "level" of break when something got overly repetitive, but law school has forced an added level of complexity. My breaks require breaks! I think however, that two is the limit. It all starts getting a bit nonsensical after that. Quick aside: I will continue to use the words nonsensical and sensical until they enter common usage. If someone managed to get people to start using irregardless when the 'ir' prefix is superfluous, I can certainly add sensical to the dictionary! I am a man with a plan.

Anyway, I just broke my rule and answered an email, which means that for a brief moment I had a triple-break going! I feel like I just accomplished something monumental. I'd like to thank my family for always believing in me, and this school for providing all this work to make it possible. I'd also like to stress that there's no "I" in team, and that we really gave it 110% on this latest draft. No one thought it was possible, no one believed in us, but we did it! I'm king of the world!

Some other things I've noticed about myself lately:

In an attempt to fool my brain, I have decided that my alarm clock does not need to be on daylight-savings time. This way, when I go to bed, I feel like it's an hour earlier than it is. I know what you're thinking, "this is stupid, when you wake up, it's an hour earlier too, or you're an hour late to class!" Couldn't be further from the truth -- I use my wife's alarm clock to wake up, and because she is not a law student, she has no desire to try to fool her brain, and her clock is set right. As to why we have two alarm clocks, it's simple: I used to be an engineer. I have the world's most complicated alarm clock. It has hidden buttons. My wife is not a morning person. In the interests of world peace, we have decided that two alarm clocks does not make us weird. Don't judge me! Besides, it makes it possible to get 4 hours of sleep in a night when you really only got 3. Actually, now that I think about this, 5 hours would be even better -- I'm going to set my clock back another hour.

I now carry cash, coins and my id card has something called "husky dollars" on it. This is because the coke vending machine closest to the classroom where I spend most of my life intermittently decides to accept only one of those three forms of currency, and when I need caffeine -- I need caffeine.

On a slightly more serious note (just slightly), on Monday a man named William Moore came to speak to our Criminal Justice class. The most impressive thing about this man was that he was alive. Our professor brought him in to talk to us about the death penalty, and the way the justice system goes about in implementing it. Mr. Moore is a pretty good authority on the subject, having spent over 17 years on death row in the state of Georgia before being pardoned. He was represented by my Crim professor throughout his appeals process. I am not a good enough writer to even attempt to relate the story he told us, but I will say that it was a powerful message. He may not have changed my views on the death penalty, but he certainly gave me lots to think about.

The reason I bring this up is because I think this experiential approach is unique to this school. While I am usually first to complain when the "huggy-feely" aspect of NUSL surfaces in my classes, there is only so much you can learn from case law. Words on a page are very impersonal and don't always force you to reconsider your preconceptions. By building opportunities such as this one into the curriculum, NUSL provides a more complete education than you can get elsewhere.

I made an executive decision last week: you did not need to hear from me while I was in the midst of marathon editing sessions for our final deliverable in LSSC. Trust me on this one. However, roughly 44,000 words and seventy-some hours of editing (in a group of four) later, it is done, finished, completed, kaput, konchena, finita la comedia (tragedia?)! Of course, I am now a week behind in all my classes, with a summary judgment memo that was due this morning and a project in Contracts due a week from today. And we're about 5 weeks away from finals. Nice! If there's anything else any of you would like to have us 1Ls juggle, you let us know, ok? We seem to have way too much free time on our hands.

But enough about me -- my rants about LSSC are starting to sound like a broken record anyhow. Let's talk briefly about admissions. By the time this is posted, it'll be April 1st, and I understand that is the deposit deadline at some schools. I also understand that some people are still waiting for answers from some of the schools they applied to. I was in a similar boat last year, and my one piece of advice is -- don't allow yourself to be frustrated. Well, that, and don't gamble -- losing your deposit sent to a school you were going to attend until your "reach" school finally admitted you is a small price to pay for retaining some of your sanity in this process.

One more piece of relevant information before I go back to reading Planned Parenthood v. Casey (written with the clarity of mud, thank you, supreme court). NUSL held an Intellectual Property conference this past Saturday, and the alumni folk were nice enough to let us poor law school students attend without paying the fee (though the fee was low enough so that I would have gladly paid it if I had to). Panelists on patents, trademarks and copyrights presented various topics and quite a few current and former students participated in the discussions. As a consequence of knowing next-to-nothing about IP law, my brain started to feel like a sponge after a little while, trying to absorb as much as it could. Illuminating, entertaining, overwhelming are all good words to describe the experience. Also, in a way, calming. NUSL is known for its Public Interest, so it's reassuring to see that it's quite good at the area of the law I'm interested in as well.

I feel that it was not entirely a coincidence that my cellphone started to emit all the outward signs of a dolphin having an epileptic seizure ten minutes after we were finally done with our LSSC deliverable. My second most important electronic gadget (the laptop I am writing this on claims the top spot) had simply cracked under the pressure of LSSC... or so I thought. Instead, it turned out to be a friend informing me that he had just won the "losers' raffle" for sox tickets, and that I better not have too much planned for Tuesday, April 8th.

During the first semester, we all learned about the reasonably prudent person. If the reasonably prudent person had taken longer than a nanosecond to decide that the home-opener of the sox season (including the World Series rings ceremony) was more important than the two classes that conflicted with it... well, then that person is neither reasonable nor prudent. In fact, that person is the exact opposite of a friend of mine who flew in from the "wrong" coast just to see this game. And so, for the second time this academic year, I decided to miss a class without having an interview during it.

It was a beautiful way to spend an afternoon. Surrounded in a sea of red, we got to watch: banners unfurled, past greats from the major Boston-area sports teams walk out with their championship trophies, rings presented, Bill Buckner get a standing ovation for throwing out the first pitch, Steven Tyler singing during the 7th inning stretch, Sheffield get booed every time he went up to bat, a fly-over that was so cool one of the pilots got suspended for it, and oh, the local nine shut out the visiting team with the $138M payroll. We got to marvel at how the seats added to Fenway over the years look as if they were there when the park opened. There was but one minor annoyance: people who left the game early. The problem with having the smallest ballpark in the league is that your average fan cannot afford tickets. This means that an ever-increasing number of corporate weenies invade the confines. They buy pink, furry toy monkeys with a 'B' on them. They get on their cellphones and wave, hoping to end up on TV. They don't know the difference between a balk and a bunt. They complain that there are no cupholders in their seats. Worst of all: they leave early. Whether their team is up or down, whether it is opening day or middle of July -- the 8th inning rolls around and they stand up and file out of the stadium.

So, if you find yourself in Boston, because you decide to go to school here, or just for a visit -- do yourself a favor -- go to a game -- a baseball game at Fenway park is something that everyone should experience at least once in their lives. Just do us all a favor -- don't leave the game early.

I don't like sunscreen. Please understand, I mean no disrespect to Mary Schmich or her excellent proposed commencement speech, which is still as funny and relevant today as it was in 1997 when it was first written. (Brief aside: I think it should be the goal of any writer to have their work mistaken for Kurt Vonnegut's). However, I was just never a fan of the stuff. It might have something to do with the fact that a tube of sunscreen has yet to arrive at any destination intact, choosing instead to commit ritual suicide by exploding inside my checked luggage or getting punctured by a ski pole inside a ski bag (don't ask) or by getting lost somewhere in Chicago (of all places!). Also could have something to do with the yogurt-like consistency, the dried-mayo like feel and the hot-dog-glistening-on-a-bun sheen it provides when applied. So, imagine my horror when over the last couple of years I have come to the realization that I cannot live without the stuff?

At the risk of having to turn in my "I AM the NRA!" bumper sticker***, perhaps Al Gore has a point about global warming and our ever-increasing carbon footprint. If a guy like me, who could spend entire days on the beach as a child without anything between him and the sun's rays now can't sit in the bleachers at a sox game without looking like a lobster at the end, then perhaps we have really done something goofy to the environment. When it is 85 degrees in Boston in April, and it seems to surprise no one, perhaps it's time to look at some sort of a tin-foil hat for the planet to wear (can we get NASA on this?).

In law school news, I have finished my very last crim and contracts readings, meaning I am one con law reading (tomorrow) away from being able to get fully into outlining and exam prep. At the risk of causing extreme emotional distress (I know, I know, lame lawyer joke -- listen I can't help it anymore, it's part of my persona now...) to future NUSL 1Ls: I do find this semester to be much tougher than last semester. Finals snuck up a lot faster, and I seem to have a much looser grip on the material this time around. However, a mere fifteen days from now, I will be 1/3 done with my legal education (and if you count the credits, it's more like half-done, really) -- and this is a good feeling.

Random sports note (because I cannot write more than 200 words without mentioning a Boston-based sports team): the Bruins got demolished by the Canadiens in game 7 of the first round of the playoffs and it made all five of their actual fans sad. It also made hordes of "fans" fall off the bandwagon they had clamored atop of since the game 6 win, but I am not terribly worried about them -- the Celtics are there to catch them for now. As for me, despite loving hockey more than any sport out there -- I didn't watch a minute of the series. Why? Two words: Jeremy Jacobs. Perfect example why someone who is not a fan should never own a franchise. That man has caused Boston hockey fans more pain than the Big Dig and the Canadiens combined.

*** In the interests of full disclosure, I should clarify that I would never affix a bumper sticker to my car. Also, I do not in fact own a firearm. Never have. Never even actually fired one, either -- which I think would keep me out of the club, even if I were inclined to join (which I am not).

As a freshman in college I once almost slept through a fire alarm. I would have succeeded, too, had my roommate not been raised in a mid-western state which left him with an overactive sense of personal responsibility for my life. Actually, it was quite impressive, because not only was the siren mounted directly above my bed, but the school had seen to it that there was a strobe attached which burnt the retinas of people three counties away, yet I was perfectly willing to sleep right through the noise and the lights. Alas, it was not meant to be. So, as I stood outside, wearing an improvised outfit of basketball shorts, workboots and an inside-out t-shirt -- being pelted by snowballs emanating from the frat across the street -- I decided I didn't much care for centralized fire alarm systems, or people from Ohio for that matter.

I have since learned to appreciate the folks from the Buckeye state, but my feelings about fire alarms have not changed. We all know that things you dislike tend to come in bunches. So, it should surprise no one that my semi-comatose state of deciding which level of scrutiny applies to a classification of a blind midget addicted to crack cocaine (improvised review question) who was being denied his right to freely associate with non-midgets was broken by the familiar shrill of a fire alarm in my apartment building. Constitutional Law and a fire alarm -- I had reached my own, personal level of hell. I reached for my trusty Nascar-branded ear plugs (distributed gratis by the library, under a sign that said "do not eat"), but was quickly overruled by my better half who suggested that we should at least investigate. Having learned my lesson from last time, I first checked to make sure I was wearing pants and second for the lack of any frat boys with snowballs (yes, I know it's May, but they have freezers!). Finding the coast to be clear, we went downstairs to literally sniff around and wait for the cavalry.

I am happy to report that my tax dollars result in a rather prompt response by two fire engines and a ladder. Three of the firefighters, however, were too intrigued by the "chicken pox" car parked in front of the building to worry about saving our lives, but it is understandable -- the car actually has spray-painted pocks on it (gotta love students). The other firefighters started menacingly in our direction. This is when I noticed that one of them had the biggest crowbar I have ever seen, another had a pick-axe and the third kind of looked like Santa Claus. I opened the front door to the building as they got close, and the guy with the pick axe looked annoyed that I kept him from the truly enjoyable aspect of his job -- breaking down a door.

Two minutes later, the fire brigade re-emerged to inform us that there was no fire (tax dollars at work, people!). I asked if we could turn the bleating of Hades off now, but was told that required a key to get into this tiny little box that was hanging out on the wall beside us, and that, of course, the fire department lacked said key. My suggestion that the pick-axe or the crowbar be used to procure a solution to the lack of key problem was met with cold stares. I think the guy was still mad I didn't let him break down the front door.

Both my management company's regular business line and the emergency line told me to call back at a more convenient time. Undeterred, I decided to ramble down the street to the office. Buzzing the intercom system connected me to a surly gentleman who assured me that "there's a fire, we're working as fast as we can!" A part of me really wanted to know what it was that they were working on, but the part that pays the monthly condo fees decided it was probably better if I didn't know. So, I decided to be satisfied that they were working as fast as they could be and went back to my earplugs and midget problem.

The score, for those of you keeping track at home, is now: firealarm 2, leon 0.

In somewhat-related news, one final down. Two to go, and the chances of me keeping my sanity through this process: about 50-50.

Law school was once described to me as "three years of hell to become the devil." By this time tomorrow, I will be 1/3 of the way done with that mission (pending exam grades of marginal pass or above). I checked for the presence of horns yesterday, and there were none. I am assuming the grow in as I get closer to taking the bar. Actually, aside from learning some new time-saving measures and falling subject to some questionable stylistic decisions (when exactly does stubble stop being stubble and become a homeless man's beard?), I am the same guy I was a year ago. Well, minus the productive-member-of-society-who-makes-things-that-people-use-and-pays-taxes bit.

I refuse to treat the end of exams as a milestone (though it is a nice excuse for a party), and so I refuse to look back at the year and think about everything that's happened to this moment. That exercise always seems to involve to much emotional baggage, and all my emotions were used up during the first semester of LSSC.

I will, however, leave those of you about to embark on your first third of the road to hell with one piece of advice:

Look around you. There are people in your life that are truly important. Some of them have been there since the very beginning, others you've met along the way. Some became your friends on the first day you met them, with others it took a bit longer, and some of them you won't meet until late August of this year (so if you look around now you won't see them, but let it go, I'm on a roll here). Your success in anything in life, and especially law school depends on these people. They will be there to celebrate and commiserate, to pick you up when you are down and to keep you grounded when you get a little too full of yourself. Without good friends and family this first year would be much, much harder than it has to be. Rely on these people. Don't be too proud or too afraid to ask for their help and support. And try not to alienate them all with law jokes -- it turns out no one really thinks they are funny.

I will end now, before I regress into high-school year-book mode and start listing people's names/initials and how much I appreciate them and what they have done to help me along this path; they know who they are, and no one else really wants to see that.

The next time I write something in this space I will technically be a 2L. And I will be a member of productive society again, working for the government without getting paid -- how much more productive can you get?

Enjoy the weekend -- and if you see a guy who looks like the picture at the top of this blog at a bar in the Boston area -- buy him a drink, he'll appreciate it.

The first sport I remember playing was hockey (I'm Russian, it's like being Canadian when it comes to hockey, but a little less weird), but the first sport I truly loved was basketball. Truth is, basketball is an easy sport to love. It requires a minimum investment: you need a ball, and hoops are everywhere (and do not come with a per-hour rate, like ice time). It's a team sport, but unlike baseball and football it can be enjoyed by two people, playing one-on-one.

Some of my happiest memories involve basketball. From after-school games that could go all night if our parents didn't figure out our circular "I am doing homework at fill-in-the-blank's house" stories to playing with my dad, who still has the ugliest three-point shot anyone has ever seen (and I have no idea how the heck it goes in all the time, but it does).

The last Celtics game I went to was the opening game of the '06-'07 series. Red Auerbach had always said that the Celtics would have cheerleaders over his dead body, and he was not kidding: he died a few days before the cheerleaders were to take the court for the first game of the season. So, the Celtics "dancers" were postponed a day, and the night became a tribute to the man behind each of the Celtics' 16 championships. For one night, the Garden felt like the old Boston Garden, loud, boisterous, ready to win. The Celtics lost that game, and they would lose many more that season, on their way to the worst record in the Eastern Conference, and all I remember thinking was that Red didn't make it. He didn't make it to banner #17. Sitting there with my dad, watching the Celtics play I wondered whether both of us would get to see that banner being raised. After the tragedy of Len Bias and Reggie Lewis, after years spent watching the likes of Dino Radja and Sherman Douglass and after Rick Pitino ran himself out of town -- I wondered if there would ever be another banner hoisted to the rafters.

Wonder no more. The Celtics beat the Lakers, they won #17, and they did it in spectacular fashion. That it came against Phil Jackson, a man on the verge of breaking Red's record for most championships just makes it that much sweeter. That they did it when no one in the media thought they could beat the Lakers just makes it that much sweeter. That they did it the first year with KG, Ray Allen and Pierce playing together makes me excited about the years to come.

For the first time in twenty two years: The Boston Celtics are World Champions!

For the sixth time in the past eight years Boston had a parade for a sports team that won it all. Indeed it was -- a beautiful day.