Email from my School Account

Missing

“The Swingline Long Reach Stapler”

Has been removed from the Copy Center

If you have any information regarding the location of the Stapler

Please contact the Copy Center.

Or if you have the Stapler please return it.

Thank you for your Assistance.

Execution & Exoneration

Medical ethics prevailed (at least momentarily) when two anesthesiologists refused to participate in Michael Angelo Morales' execution planned for 12:01 am this morning. Last week a judge ordered an anesthesiologist be on hand to intervene in the event Morales woke up or appeared to be in pain. The death warrant runs out at 11:59 pm tonight, so unless California manages to execute him by sedation before then, it is unlikely Morales will be put to death. The trial judge would have to re-issue the death warrant, a highly unlikely probability given that he supported Morales' plea for clemency to Governor Arnold earlier this month.

The family of Terri Winchell, who was 17 years old at the time she was raped and murdered twenty-five years ago, were clearly upset that the pain Morales may potentially experience would be a concern.

But the 8th Amendment applies to what actions the state may take. I realize that capital punishment is a difficult topic and there are highly divergent views. Do I condone the rape and murder of a 17-year-old? Of course not. But I absolutely do not condone the state taking calculated action in the name of justice to "right" the wrong.

Although his wasn't a capital case, Alan Crotzer was exonerated last month after DNA evidence proved his innocence. While Michael Morales admitted to his crimes, I remain resolved that executing him retains the status of murder. And murdering the murderer is neither satisfying nor just nor humane. Violence begets violence.

Maybe You Thought I'd Resist . . .

but no. My uncle sent me this cartoon, a friendly jab at my law student status, and it really made me smile. I promise I won't talk about he-who-must-not-be-named any more.

Idiot

Last week I posted about the various ways to interpret and apply The Document That Is The Constitution. Justice Antonin Scalia provided a wonderful follow-up with this story. Apparently anyone who thinks that the interpretation and application of the Constitution must adjust to social changes is an "idiot." In case you were wondering. Or worried. Or curious.

For the record, Scalia bills himself as an originalist (although he may be more accurately described as a Practice of the Time-ist). Meaning we apply the Constitution as it was originally written and intended. Fantastic. Only white, male, landowners (about 10% of the population at the time The Document was drafted) should be permitted to vote. Slavery runs throughout The Document, so maybe those sweatshops and sex slavery rings are just dandy. Women would certainly not be included in basic citizenship rights and obligations, let alone positions of power, so out goes the titillating Hillary-Condie Prez matchup.

Originalism, my ass. Talk about maintaining an outmoded status quo. Just remember - if you don't think like Scalia, you're an idiot.

Student Sex

To be honest, this link made me laugh at first. Especially the title, "Fairy Tales Don't Come True." The whole thing was so fraught with fear-based rhetoric, I just had to chuckle. But I quickly sobered up and realized there are thousands people who really do believe that shit. They really think the Nasty Queers are actively recruiting their awkward, shy teenage children. How do we address such a worldview in a way that is productive and not antagonistic? How on earth can we show that the reality of our lives - both inner and outer - do not comport with their perception of our reality? Yes, I was an awkward teenager. And I'm queer. But the fact that I got hot for girls since my early early childhood seems completely immaterial to those who so fervently believe that heteronormativity rules the day.

This one is just sickening. "Personally offensive" is so broad. I'm personally offended by uptight, puritanical prisses who insist on dumbing down education to the most whitewashed common denominator. Besides, professors don't get paid enough as it is. To insist that they create alternative class content for those who can't handle higher education is similarly offensive. Who's going to accommodate the offense that I'm taking?

On a slightly happier note, something called Sex Week at Yale is happening. Not promoting sex, just sexual awareness. My favorite part was this: "for all their good grades, ... Yale students seemed less clued in about sex than students elsewhere" and "the dating scene is notoriously complicated at Yale, where every grade matters, every extracurricular is essential and everyone is in competition." I guess that makes sense. Perhaps I'm jaded, but it seems as if those in the Ivy League are so conditioned to compete that it would naturally spill over to the animalistic mating game. And create a vacuum of experience and practice with non-Ivy Leaguers. I'm glad I don't attend Yale. And I'm sure Yale is glad I don't either.

addiction? codependence?

“Love is an irresistible desire to be irresistibly desired.” – Robert Frost

I'm not quite sure what I think about this quote.  But it doesn't sit comfortably with me.  At least not right now.
...

Kinkeeee

Some recent kink in the news:

• Attempts to start a student BDSM education and "safe bondage" group at the University of Toledo have raised concerns by the administration (i.e. "whether this [group] meets the values that are expressed in the university mission statement in terms of respecting human dignity"). This is a direct link. This link requires a free sign-in. This is a link to the club proponent's blog. Human dignity a concern, huh? I can think of a lot of general practices in higher ed that are far more degrading than kinky play. I'm only slightly kidding.
  

• Good things cannot come from a BDSM contract being made public. Especially when it results in the denial of a protective order. In my view, a protective order should never be denied on the basis of a BDSM lifestyle or contract. This looks like a clear case of domestic violence. If someone is seeking an order, there is likely a problem in the relationship. Kinky or not. To get a great Jerry Springer freak-show, read the comments posted by readers after the article. They make me feel downright normal. Amazing. I haven't felt that way for a long, long time.
  

Overdue Revolution

Be forewarned: This post isn't that meaty. It's just my sleep-deprived rantings on yet another day of introspection bordering on despair.

. . .

I loved studying Constitutional Law. (Especially the obscenity stuff, but that's mostly because I'm intrigued/obsessed with the depoliticization of sexual expression as speech ... and because I like things pornographic and obscene. Previous obscenity posts here, here, and here.)

Next to free speech and the pornography/obscenity question, my other favorite parts of Con Law included learning about the various interpretive methods for applying disparate understandings of what The Document actually meant, and what the various Founders thought about The Document. Thomas Jefferson's view most sang to my anarchist soul. He believed that every generation should throw out the Constitution lock, stock, and barrel, and start over. Talk about a living document. Nothing says you're alive like dying and being reborn. The Phoenix Constitution.

"This country, with its institutions, belongs to the people who inhabit it. Whenever they shall grow weary of the existing government, they can exercise their constitutional right of amending it, or their revolutionary right to dismember and overthrow it." -Thomas Jefferson

Aren't we rather overdue for some revolution? I am increasingly skeptical that the McDonald's-eating, Wal-Mart-shopping, FoxNews-watching masses will rise out of their apathetic stupor to question, let alone challenge, the policies which are eroding the civil rights and liberties for which our veterans, our dissidents, and our radical activists have contributed blood, sweat, tears, and lives to ensure and protect. And I am decreasingly confident that those of us who do question and challenge have the energy, will, or resources to continue fighting the good fight. Maybe I'll feel differently after attending the Rebellious Lawyering Conference in a few weeks. I need some inspiration.

Girls Girls Girls ... And A Bitch

I'm such a hypocrite.

I'm a feminist. Sometimes I call myself and other females "girls." When I'm writing it, I'll often use "grrls," mostly for the nostalgia of the early 90's. But that's not why I'm a hypocrite.

I'm a hypocrite because two different men in my Feminist Legal Theory class used the term "girl" today towards me, and my internal reactions were worlds apart. I tried to make my outer reaction more comparable, but that was purely for show. And to assuage the immediate guilty recognition that I'm a hypocrite.

• For background, this class has twelve students. Ten men. Two women. A bizarre gender mix considering the course content, even given the embarrassing gender imbalance at my school. Transfer students are required to take a theory class, and there aren't many options. On the first day at least six of the ten men in the class said, "I'm taking this because it sounded better than Medieval Law." Yeah. Way to win points with the prof is all I can say. I was sick last week and I heard that M, the other female, missed class on Wednesday. The stage has now been set.

The first reference came from an exceptionally conservative male student. Let's be clear: to be exceptionally conservative at my school is really a feat given that a good 80% of the studentbody thinks Cheney's BushCo is doing a great job, that only those with something to hide would object to warrantless wiretaps, and that "the market" can take care of any problem under the sun. The second reference came from a socially and politically progressive gay male with whom I am friends.

When the first one said, "Oh, good, a girl is here today," I responded by saying, "A girl? Do you mean me? I don't think I've been a girl since I was about twelve." (This is my standard prickly response since I started bleeding in the sixth grade.)

When the second one said, "There were no girls here during the last class," I responded by saying, "Man, what's with all this 'girl' talk? You guys aren't boys!" Then they both said, "Yes we are! We are boys!"

(You know, men always respond that way, but truly, it's only the most ga-ay of the gay men I know who refer to themselves or other men as boys. I welcome hearing others' experiences which contradict my observation.)

To be perfectly honest, if the first girl-referencer hadn't been sitting right there, I probably would have let the second girl comment slide. But because they were both listening, I felt like I had to say something to girl-referencer-number-two.

That's why I'm a hypocrite. I only take girl-talk from certain people. Same with the word bitch. Some people --especially one particular person lately-- get(s) away with calling me a bitch. Sometimes I even like it. A lot. Go figure.

I guess I'm a complicated kind of feminist. Or maybe I'm just a bitch.

Puritanical Policing on Public Transport

These signs don't appear on all the buses I ride, but in certain neighborhoods they seem to appear more than others. Coincidence? Perhaps. Or maybe it's the bus drivers who determine whether their vehicle is a zone of language cleanliness.

In any case, it sure makes me laugh. And I always feel compelled to use the word "fuck" and "goddammit" and "shithead" and "asswipe" and "piss monger" whenever I'm talking on my phone while riding a bus with this sticker. Or even when not on my phone. Just saying those words randomly, to see who notices and who turns up the volume on their iPods.

I say it serves the bastards right, hearing my nasty-ass mouth spewing vile utterances, as I am reminded that swearing is socially unacceptable. Who the hell wants to be socially acceptable? Sure as fuck not me.

Law School = Pay-Per-Masochistic-Act

Tuition at my law school ends up being about $100 for every hour of class. So when I was home sick Tuesday and Wednesday, it was really really tough not to focus on the fact that I was losing about $600 in class time.

Being sick sucks. But not nearly as bad as wasting $600.

Perils of Alcohol

Allergic

Terms of Art

Loosey goosey
Screw them over
Mumbo jumbo
Equal bargaining power
Billable hours
Fiduciary duty
Avoid future conflicts
Projection bias
Client paradox
Piercing the corporate veil

"No one predicts the Spanish Inquisition"

Privacy

I just haven't had it in me to weigh in on the whole Google-porn issue. Maybe later? Time will tell.

In the interim . . .

Sucking Weiners

I've always wanted a chiseled-featured guy to feed me his fat sausage in the woods. If that is your dream too, or even if you have some other dream, Panexa may be the answer.
. . .

Art by Missy

Dazed by Transience

Last night the beautiful Missy B was killed in a car accident. Two days ago Missy contacted me via Myspace. I hadn't spoken to her in over a year, and I was thrilled to be back in touch. She had been living in California and said she was going to Georgia to care for her godsons, who had lost their mother to cancer in November. We had arranged to see each other as she traveled across the country.

After receiving the news, I immediately called my family. Everyone who ever met Missy and were graced with her smile couldn't help but love her, and I wanted to let B and K know what had happened.

But I also wanted to be sure my family knew I loved them. Priorities shift immediately in the face of death. Especially when the life of a beautiful, open-hearted, conscious sister is snuffed so unexpectedly.

May the kindness and gentleness and integrity that Missy embodied continue to grow as her spirit expands beyond the confines of her flesh.
. . .

Skool06 Pt 1

I will not comment on Alito. At least not right now. I spend my days in an environment where politics and SCOTUS are the sexiest things people talk about. I refuse to submit to such drudgery! You won't even get any links out of me!

Two days of classes and my head is already swimming. Business Organizations is blowing my mind. Even though I am taking it from a professor who says he expects that we don't know anything about business, it's still challenging me. A lot. At least the prof is amusing. He's very strange with a bizarre voice that reminds me of the smoker voicebox guy on South Park. He uses terms like "negative externalities" to describe stepping on a piece of chewing gum.

I'm feeling energized about the law journal article I'm writing on polyamory, my Trusts & Estates professor kicks ass, and Feminist Legal Theory is keeping me sane. My fourth class - Ethics, aka "Legal Profession" - meets for the first time today, and I know the professor is a riot. Coupled with the subject matter and dearth of ethical lawyer jokes, it should be fun.

So yeah. I'm not hating law school as much as I was a week ago. This is progress.

I tried to upload a picture of my study carrel, where I spend my waking hours, but it didn't work. I'll try later when I just can't handle reading about intestacy anymore.

Camaraderie

It's comforting to sit outside with one of my too-few conscious classmates, enjoying the global warming, wondering aloud to each other if going to law school was a huge mistake. It beats wondering about it alone, anyway.

Post-Party

Journey to the Homestead

We call our truck Mister Hanky. It's our motel room on wheels. In a brown truck with a white shell, we glide through the hamlets in hick country, watchful law enforcement smiling and waving. A tiny "namaste" sticker in the back window is the only indication we are not rednecks.

Our destination:
the remote area on the south slope of the Uintah Mountain Range.

On Monday, we walked on a frozen creek, listening intently for cracks as water rushed inches beneath our feet.

Life, suspended.

Applied geometry.

I knew I couldn't capture it, the way the water burst through the ice. But I snapped the shot anyway, hoping that seeing the futile attempt to freeze the moment, the experience would flood me - buzz of water on rock and ice, stinging cheeks and nose, juniper tang.

House in the hills.

The dogs are in heaven on the homestead. Yes, Cassie wears sweaters because she gets cold doing what she loves. Thanks to K's work on her wardrobe, she's the best dressed hiking dog I've ever met. Lucky little bitch.

Have I mentioned yet that Cassie the Shih Tzu-Eskimo humps Aki the Rotty-Blue Heeler? She really goes to town, jackhammering away on his hip, his back, his head. He must like it. He gave her a post-hump cuddle.

"Erotophobia"

I first saw the term "erotophobia" in this article. The depoliticization of sexual speech is baffling to me, but I've said that before.

An example even beyond erotophobia. Body-phobia, I guess:
Last night I was wandering around and came across a statue of a pro basketball player from my city's team. Although there was amazing detail in his leg muscles, the toes gripping through the shoe, the fold in his sock, his facial features and expression, the way his fingers were tensed, engaging the ball - despite all this, there were no genitals on the statue. No bulge through his shorts. No bump where a jockstrap would be. I wasn't expecting definition or anything necessarily erotic, but the utter lack of a physical indication of genitalia is absurd.

Balmy Winter Days

The first day of winter where I live is warmer than it's been for weeks. Or so it seems. I'm not checking the numbers, just going off my perception.

Solstice was yesterday and celebrating that day feels intensely satisfying. I feel very human, recognizing that for thousands and thousands of years, humans have acknowledged and celebrated the rebirth of light. And now the rest of the holiday season, all the obligations and events, they just . . . happen. I participate, I play whatever role I've agreed to play that year, I give gifts, I open gifts, I drive around a lot, pose for pictures, avoid picture-taking, smile, chit-chat, blah blah. And it's easy. Because I've already celebrated the most important holyday for me. And that makes for a consistently low-stress holiday time.

At least that's what I tell myself.

Animalistic Reactions

Our friend M gave K a big bag of clothes that was destined for the thrift store if K didn't want them. It's always fun going through a secondhand bag of clothes. It's fascinating what one can learn about someone by looking at their castoffs. I'm unsure where M acquired one particular item.

In this bag K found a real lamb jacket.
It felt weird. Really weird. Very soft and a lot like our dog Cassie's fur.

The dogs were horrified. If you dont' remember what the dogs look like, here's Cassie and here's Aki. Unfortunately, I don't have a photo of them looking horrified. But they both slowly backed away from K and wouldn't look at her. They were clearly disgusted.

However. Animal reactions to the hide of another dead animal being brought into the household are not uniform.
Buddy, our sadly obese orange tabby cat (seen above all junked out on catnip and a good five pounds lighter than he is now), just about came all over himself with excitement. Okay, not really. He's fixed and doesn't do that anymore. But he was very excited. He snuggled right up into the lamb jacket and took a nice long nap.

If you ask me, that's pretty f*cking confident of him. Who's to say he wouldn't be next? After all, he has very soft fur. It would make a really warm little bustier for those chilly winter nights. But Buddy knows he's got us wrapped around his fat little paw. He's too good of a snuggler and too warm of a heating pad. Damn him.

Some Kind of Memory Thing

So I don't really read very many blogs. In fact, the only one I read with any kind of (obsessive) regularity is Trista's. She had this thing that I actually did, and as a good little sheep I'm following the directions (When you're finished, post this paragraph on your blog . . . )

These were the instructions I followed:

If you read this, if your eyes are passing over this right now, even if we don't speak often, please post a comment with a COMPLETELY MADE UP AND FICTIONAL MEMORY OF YOU AND ME.

It can be anything you want--good or bad--BUT IT HAS TO BE FAKE.

End quote.

See, that's just silly of me. Nobody reads this thing. I feel actually quite confident in that statement. Or are there ways of eluding a sitemeter? Not that it matters. It's actually kind of cool to have a place that is for me and the few lone souls who find this place.

Liberation is something definitely in short supply lately.

Daily Zen

The fundamental delusion of reality is to suppose that I am here and you are out there. --Yasutani

Challenging A Century-Old Supreme Court Ruling

Brian Barnard, a Salt Lake City civil rights attorney, is challenging the holding in Reynolds, the 19th century Supreme Court case banning plural marriage. Last Sunday, the Salt Lake Tribune ran this article about his efforts. This CBS article, released upon the lawsuit's commencement last year, contains further information. Barnard is acting on behalf of three clients, two women and a man, all over age 45, who claim that polygamy is necessary for their "exaltation and eternal salvation." Utah's bigamy laws do not require deceit of the legal spouse or performance of a second marriage ceremony for prosecution. A married person living with someone else in a sexual relationship can be found guilty of bigamy.

I'm glad there are people standing up and questioning the state's prohibition on nonmonogamous familial groupings. I also recognize that it may be most helpful to make the religious claims, since overturning Reynolds is the goal.

Nevertheless, I think it is unfortunate that the majority of legal challenges to monogamist laws that harm those in nontraditional familial units are coming from fundamentalist religious types. While making the religious claim may be the best shot to overturn monogamist-favored laws on constitutional grounds, in the courts of public opinion, it continues to keep nonmonogamy as a creepy-sounding, cultish practice. While that is true in some circumstances, it doesn't reflect the broad diversity of familial types who are harmed by bigamy laws. The difficulty may be in finding a nonreligiously-motivated nonmonogamous family who is willing to undergo the public scrutiny a lawsuit often entails.

Rawness

My first carcass-free Thanksgiving! Even when I was a vegetarian, I was always present at a turkey-fest during this time of year. Not in 2005! We had twenty people or so at the raw food potluck we hosted (not at our house, thankfully, but at an empty house we are tending), and the food was magnificent. Lasagne, wild "rice" salads, pesto-stuffed mushrooms, mashed "potatoes" - even gravy! And the desserts! All vegan, so no digestive unpleasantness. All date- and agave-sweetened, so no sugar crash. Chocolat mousse, pumpkin pie, two kinds of apple pie, carrot cake, sweet potato pie . . . mmmmm.

This was, by far, the best Thanksgiving I've ever had. Plus, I didn't feel all bloated and nasty afterward. Cleanup was a breeze! Life is glorious. Although I don't advocate everyone should "go raw," this lifestyle shift has impacted me personally in unexpectedly fantastic ways.

Breathing

I've been forgetting to breathe lately. Chest tight, anxiety high, shallow breath. No wonder I've been feeling batty and out of it and sometimes even hysterical.

Deep breathing. Consciously. In to my belly. Out slowly. Breathe.