Wednesday, September 28, 2005

Late Nights

That time has finally arrived; the days that don't seem to end, and the long hours of studying and typing up briefs.
"Hello Reality, I've been waiting for you."

I cannot get through a half hour of life without thinking about law. I watched Seinfeld last night, when Kramer gives the homeless man food in a tupperware, and the homeless man doesn't want to give back the tupperware. I think to myself how Kramer should have been more explicit when he offered the food, in the container, but didn't "gift" the container. Perhaps he should have just given the food in a paper plate, so as to avoid the situation altogether.
Yesterday I found a MUNI ticket on the floor, behind a classmates seat who had left. Guessing the probably owner, I hold the ticket and notify the person. What does my mind race to? Bailments...and Acquisition by Find. I conclude that we can view the action like a bailment, whereas the only person benefiting is the ticket owner, not me, the bailee. Therefore, I am held to the lowest standard of care, because there has been no formal negotiation.

My brain has warped into the 1L frenzy of words I still feel clumsy with and concepts that I can only barely get my head around.
Luckily I am able to keep my mouth shut, closing off the never ending stream of legal mumbo jumbo from those of my friends who could really give a damn.

So, this is the update I suppose (on going that is) of my first year of law school.

Tip of the day for other law students: make eye contact with your professors. I have noticed that it not only tells them you are NOT checking email (though you are anyway) but that you respect them...therefore increasing their security and hopefully keeping them from calling on you. The strategy is look attentive and prepared and they usually won't pick on you.

Saturday, September 24, 2005

In those hours

In those hours,
just after midnight
when I feel the strain of the new day
quickening my breath
I think of you
and all I've missed
in the years between.

I'll never get back
that time
filled with anger
when I said so many things
without you in mind.

And the only thing
that keeps me from shivering
is to know
that you understood,
years before I could begin,
and your strength
has carried me through.

I dedicate this poem to my parents, and the years between refer to those years after the divorce, when we were all "separated" in many ways from one another, and before we (my parents and I) reconciled with eachother after years of bitterness. I think that they, as much as I, wish to get those years back.

Stay Here

Stay here with me,
my ear to your chest,
and the weight of the day

I want to remember
your features, soft in the light,
and your breath warm
with a faint smell of sugar.

I cannot let go,
until the morning mist rises
and the sun beams
gently dance on your cheek.

In that moment I'll know,
your love is as real as the pain
I no longer remember
feeling just hours ago.

Monday, September 19, 2005

Just Fall In

Sometimes you need to fall-
break a piece of yourself,
just to regain feeling throughout the other limbs.

Sometimes you need to collapse-
come face to face with the pitiless earth,
find yourself struggle to stand
and embrace the challenge to breathe.

Because that feeling, of oxygen pumping
back into your muscles,
the rush of blood to the head,
and the bruises left on your shins
are all a reminder
that you can survive it all.


Thursday, September 15, 2005

What Life Brings

No one to wipe your nose
when it's running down your lip.
That salty taste of infection
is now your reminder, that she's not there.

You're all grown up now-
and you worry about taking care of her,
now that she can't take care of you.

Wishing, just wishing you could go back.
Back to the days when she brought you soup,
warm and steaming, with crackers and juice.

The hands that tucked you in and wiped your tears
are three thousand miles away
and need some help, getting through the week.

Please let me return, for a moment
to that warm pillow and bowl of soup
before the roles reverse and I can no longer
be the little girl.