My New Year's Resolution was to update the AC more often. *looks at archives* I see that I've posted three times this month and that I've already failed miserably at my resolution. Yeah, part of it is that I don't have time because Hellfire and Damnation need raising. Part of it is that I lost my Ruth!voice and I can't find the balance between being silly while still projecting an air of professionalism. Part of it is that I can look back and point out the times when I could have (and maybe should have) wrapped things up (e.g., after graduation, after taking the bar, after passing the bar, after getting a job).

But I didn't wrap things up. I always thought there was more to Ruth's story. And, honestly, I wasn't ready to let go. The AC really brought me a lot of joy, and--quite frankly--I like the attention.

Now, though... it's just time. If I'm being honest with myself, I lost Ruth the moment I reported for work. Ruth is silly, prone to folly, overly fond of alcohol, and disdainful of those to who do well. Now that I'm working, I have to be serious (sometimes) (like when I'm explaining to a client that if he didn't like jail he probably shouldn't have violated his probation by repeatedly getting high and breaking curfew), I try to avoid folly since I'm supposedly a professional, I only drink alcohol in moderation, and... I'm doing okay. Some might even say I'm doing well. I've become the anti-Ruth, with nothing to complain about except the occasional asshat family members of my clients and the fact that my kids sometimes act like spoiled brats. Ruth reveled in mediocrity, but I kind of don't want to be mediocre anymore. Ruth was sarcastic and a little cynical. And lately... I've been... earnest. Honestly, y'all, that last part is the worst. Ruth laughs at people who are earnest, and do you know how disturbing it is when your semi-fictional alter ego is laughing at you? I mean, it's hard to wrap your mind around that concept without grabbing for the DSM-IV.

So this is it. For the 30 or so of you who still stop in a few times a week, thanks for sticking with me until the end. I'll miss you guys. For those of you who already moved on and therefore probably won't read this anyway, best of luck. If you know the real Ruth, feel free to keep in touch via email, my "real life" blog, the Facebook, etc.

I'd like to thank a few people (some of whom will read this and some of whom won't). First, Antonin, for starting up this craziness with me in the first place. The Peregrinus, RCD, The Infamous El Guapo, Alfred, SH, ladyvorkosigan, and other regular commentators, I know who you really are, so you haven't heard the last of me. ;) To the UT professors who read this blog, esp Professor McDreamy (who was a great sport about the whole thing, which meant that I didn't actually die of embarrassment, I only wanted to), the Dz, and the Dean Search committee. I was always amused (and a little weirded out, really) that y'all read this thing. Thanks to Buffalo Wings & Vodka for being awesome and funny and for that one time you linked to the AC and I got like a thousand hits. That was pretty awes. To the UT Law classes of 2007 and 2008, thanks for reading.

I now pass the torch on to Danielle, my favorite of the current UT Law bloggers. She's not quite Ruth, but I think if we'd been at school at the same time, we'd have probably had geeky DVD marathons on Saturdays while she taught me to knit Jayne hats. Anyway, she's fun and you should read her musings if you don't already.

I started this blog to be silly and have a good time. Mission accomplished. I'll catch y'all on the flip side.

Despite the fact that I have my headphones in and am clearly doing work (flipping pages in book, typing, more page flipping, typing, looking things up, typing, etc), the man who just sat down next to me in the coffee shop just HAD to make conversation. First he asked if I was doing Bible study. I shook my head and showed him the cover: Legal Ethics.

"Pointless," he says, sipping his coffee.

I'm thinking "great, here we go with lawyer jokes," but I was a tad off base.

"The Hong Kong Octopus is going to make lawyers obsolete by the end of the year."

Having never been to Hong Kong, I pictured a giant octopus that was going to eat all the lawyers. Turns out he meant these smart card things.

"Well," I said politely, "I don't think my boss will appreciate it much if I tell him I'm going to stop working because an octopus is going to make lawyers obsolete." I smiled and put my earphones back in, exaggerating all of my movements in the process, hoping he'd get the point.

He didn't.

"The Octopus is going to change the law. Soon it'll be here, and if the camera takes your picture while you're speeding, you won't be able to argue it in front of the judge, because if the Octopus says you're guilty, you're guilty."

"That sounds pretty bad. In the meantime, I'm going to keep doing this research, seeing as there are ethical guidelines to follow while we wait for the Octopus to come." Again with the exaggerated motions putting my earphones in, but this time without the polite smile.

"You mean lawyers actually have ethics?" Ah, I knew the lawyer jokes would come up at some point.

"Well, sir, we do have ethics rules. That doesn't mean that all lawyers follow them or that all lawyers are ethical. But neither are all builders, doctors, contractors or even plumbers."

"Yeah, but lawyers cost more."

I gritted my teeth. "Yes. If I recall correctly, I do remember that my parents paid way more to have their wills drafted than they did to have their house built." That was me hoping he'd pick up on my sarcasm.

He didn't.

"That's outrageous. Ain't no reason why hardworking folks ought to be paying more for a lawyer than for a house. Anyway, you mark my words... there's a war coming."

o_0


I think next week, I'll go ahead and work from home.

Open House or "Meet the Teacher Night" is the night where all the parents come and listen to the teachers talk about what the class will be doing this year, the behavior expectations, the goals, etc. Parents can ask questions, as long as the questions are general and not specific to one's child.

I hate crap like this, because I always feel like I don't belong there and end up spending the evening trying not to make snide comments about the other parents under my breath since I have to set a good example for Goofball and Ruth Jr. But I'm usually 5-10 years younger than any of the other parents, and I'm one of the few single moms in the GT (gifted and talented) crowd, if not the only single mom. Plus, I spent the last three years at school, and they spent the last three years making sure Jimmy went to regionals in the science fair. So here I am, a really young single mother of twins (one of whom is the kid who has to have his desk next to the teacher's at all times, but more on that another time) amongst a group of obsessed parents who live and compete vicariously through their children.

One would think that Open House wouldn't be so bad. After all, we're pretty much listening to the teacher and can't ask questions specific to our kids, right? RONG! PTA moms are skilled at making everything about their kid, and Open House rules are but a minor inconvenience in their quest to make sure everyone knows that little Joshua is smarter than your kid. So I got to sit through questions like this:

"Will the Accelerated Reader quizzes be up and running soon? Because Timmy just finished War and Peace, and I'd like him to be able to test on it before starting Anna Karenina."

"I notice the math curriculum is starting with geometry, and I thought it was going to start with long division, since Cindy worked through the entire Summer Math Workbook that was sent home in May and it ended with long division. Doesn't it make sense to pick up where the workbook left off?"

"I was just wondering if Science Fair project proposals needed to be approved. If so, I'll send in a description of Tammy's genetic engineering project. We'd feel more comfortable if it was approved now, rather than having to wait until December."

And that was just during the structured part of the night. They really went into competition mode when they gathered in the hallway outside of the classroom and tried to one-up each other chatted politely about their summers. Apparently there was an invisible trophy that was being passed around and whoever had provided the most well-rounded summer for their kids got to take the trophy home with them. So summers were filled with museum trips, library days, team sports, violin lessons, scouts, karate, a five-day trip to California for beach and Disney, and every other Friday was a free-play day, where the child was allowed to gear down a bit and play board games.

"So Ruth, what did your kids do this summer?"

"They swam a lot."

"Oh, were they on the El Paso Swim Sharks? Congratulations. Tina told me that you all really cleaned up at the state competition in Dallas."

"Um, no. I meant they played Marco Polo in the backyard while I tried to study for the bar exam. They also watched a lot of TV."

This is where things get interesting, because it's against PTA Mom Code to directly criticize another Mom's parenting strategies. One of the most important rules is that--to one's face--you must appear sympathetic and caring. After all, we all have busy schedules and occasionally cut corners to save time by baking the casserole on Sunday and freezing it to eat on soccer practice night. So despite my obvious failures as a mother, they couldn't say so until I was gone. Which, luckily for them, would be the next day because I don't spend my days at the school volunteering in the library like they do. But for now, they had to be supportive.

"Well there's nothing wrong with watching a little television. I often allow Blaire to watch PBS while I cook dinner."

"The bar exam is killer. My husband was almost unbearable when he took it just before Alex was born. Luckily he passed it the first time, because I don't think I could have handled it again."

By the time I got back in the car, I found myself missing gunners and OCI one-upmanship. At least in law school, gunners are frowned upon and ridiculed by the greater law school population. And if you don't do that well in OCI, you can always lie and say that it's always been your intention to do public service. But here, amongst the PTA Moms, the biggest gunner was the most-respected. The mom who not only found time to take three kids to separate sports practices, music lessons, scouts, and church functions, but also managed to volunteer at the local homeless shelter and host Pampered Chef parties--she wasn't made fun of. She was the Queen Bee, and everyone wanted to be her. In this world, you can't ride the curve and get by with being average. And as that's what I'm quite used to doing, I'm not quite sure how I'm going to survive elementary school.

As this year's 2Ls and 3Ls are in the midst of the add/drop period and trying to figure out how to build the perfect schedule for OCI (2Ls) or excessive apathy (3Ls), I decided to list some of the more popular class-scheduling techniques.

Pick Classes Taught By Good Professors

Now, depending on who you talk to, the UT profs are either mostly bad with a few gems or mostly good with a few who make you want to bludgeon yourself to death with your laptop. In other words, this can be very easy or very hard depending on your viewpoint. The pros for picking classes this way are obvi: good professors mean you're more likely to (a) stay awake, (b) actually learn, and (c) not spend the 50-minute class period thinking of all the possible ways to kill yourself using only 6 highlighters and a casebook. The cons are that they either all tend to teach at the same time, or they teach classes at odd times when no one wants to be in class (think evenings and Fridays). So, for the five of you who still think that law classes are valuable because of what you learn, this technique could be the right one for you. For everyone else, I suggest this technique only in conjunction with at least one other discussed below.

Take All the "Clerkship" Classes

For the overachievers among my readers (not many, as they would be studying and not reading this blog), this one's for you. This technique is not for the faint of heart, nor is it for those who enjoy a cold beer more than once a month, because these classes usually contain the word "Federal" and are followed by even scarier words such as "Income Tax" or simply "Courts." Plus, if your grades are good enough that you think a clerkship could be in your future, then you're also probably expecting to rock out OCI. Therefore, you'll be taking these scary classes while flying to Dallas and Houston every other day. I don't know about you, but I'd rather be forced to watch Hostel 2 with my eyes actually open than be stuck with that courseload. So again, if you're reading this blog, this class-choosing technique is probably not for you. For those who can handle it, they'll simply ask themselves, "What would Kadens do?" and that should get them the classes they seek.

Take GPA-Inflation Classes

These include classes that have a reputation for being light, classes off the curve, seminars, and (depending on your current GPA) Pass/Fail classes. There's really not much to add about this technique, except that you have to possess the basic social skills to allow you to talk to others and find out which classes fit in this category. But a warning to my lazy readers: if grade inflation is your goal, beware scheduling only classes that are labeled "easy." Easy classes mean more B+ are given out, and unless you've got a 3.2 or lower, a B+ isn't going to raise your GPA. If you're just looking to spend the most possible time partying and the least possible time studying, then you're looking for the Easy-Breezy class-selection technique, which is pretty much what it sounds like.

Pick Classes to Minimize Back Pain and Maximize Spending Money

I.e. take classes with no assigned casebooks. Look for classes that only have Sales Office Materials or, better yet, those where all the readings are posted on Black Board. The $600 or more you would normally spend on books + the money for a locker to keep them in can now be spent on clothes, beer, or green fees. Go you!

Pick Classes That Maximize Your Weekend

This technique goes beyond the "No Classes on Fridays" that any upper classmen with a commitment to Bar Review can master. This requires extra skill and an intense desire for long weekends. To really take this technique to the next level, you should schedule classes only on Mondays and Tuesdays. It can be done. I had a friend who pulled it off. You may end up taking boring classes with horrible professors and expensive textbooks, but your weekend will start on Wednesday, and that is a beautiful thing. If this is important to you, I suggest you make this your primary class-selection technique.


And with that, you may now return to your regular Add/Drop period. Choose wisely, dear readers. Your semester depends on it.

For people who care:

( King Sager's Proclamation )

Another email that was forwarded to me that looks legit indicates the following moves:

BOA moving to current TIPLJ office. Clinics taking over current BOA office.

Mentors move to current TROL + Environmental Law Journal offices.

SBA + "Student Org Central" moves to current mentor office + LRB and other cubicles back there. TLF office becomes SBA President's office and the big area outside becomes Organization Central, and orgs with secure storage needs work with SBA.

Current SBA Office becomes Financial Aid + Student Life + International Programs.

LRB moves to 4th floor.

Separate email going out to journals. Not sure who's going where.

Anyhoo, all in all, seems like a decent compromise, IMHO. Now we can all stop bashing Law Review. ;)

Author's Note: If you can't tell that the following story is exaggerated and mostly untrue, then you're no longer allowed to read this blog. Being right in the mix of the office-reallocation kerfuffle, I heard varying accounts and have been unable to verify the truth of hardly any of them. Plus, I'm pretty sure some stuff was told to me in confidence, and I try not to blog about things that are told to me in confidence because then people stop telling me things in confidence. However, I also have a responsibility to my readers to report nonsense, and I take that responsibility very seriously. And besides, some of this info found its way to the Facebook without my help, and I figure that's fair game. So here it is.

---

Once upon a time, a group of law students decided that their top grades, while good enough to get them the occasional free ale at the local tavern, weren't enough to get them the really big jobs like being hired by the prince to go rescue the captured princess or trying to find grails. They got together and formed a group whose purpose was to review the law. From that day on, they considered themselves elevated above the common folk, and accordingly headquartered on the fourth floor where they could look down upon the masses. They graduated, found grails, donated some of the proceeds to the law school and became very powerful. Some became douchebags. Nonetheless, from that day forward, they thought reigned supreme.

Some time later, another group of students decided that law school was drab and everyone was boring, stressed-out, and working too hard. They felt that if there was only someone to provide them with a little ale now and again, people would drink and be merry and the law school would be a better place. So they arranged to sell lockers and exchange parchment and get donations from lords and ladies and make deals with tavern owners in order to do just this. And thus was born the Student Tavern Association. Students naturally enjoyed free ale and having a place at school in which to stow their quills and parchment, and the Student Tavern Association looked upon their smiling faces and realized their importance to the happiness--to the very soul--of the law school. From that day forward, they thought they reigned supreme.

Once law students were able to drink away their displeasure, more and more began to flock to the school. The school grew and grew and suddenly the sheer size made students feel lost in the crowd. It became difficult to form real connections with people, even with free ale to drink on Thursdays. And so the Gurus were hired and given a fiefdom, divided into 18 parcels- one parcel for each small section, plus one for the students who transfer, plus one for the eight Programme Coordinators. The Gurus facilitated social bonding by providing free bagels to their serfs. They often counseled their serfs during stressful times as well. The students were then able to make friends and be better adjusted. The Gurus looked upon the good they'd done for the law school and realized their importance to well being of the law school. From that day forward, they thought they reigned supreme.

But then King Sager issued a proclamation ordering the hire of new faculty and administration. But there was no where for them to live. A committee was formed to move groups around until sufficient office space could be found for everyone. There was talk of moving some administrators into the space currently occupied by the Student Tavern Association. Not wanting to move, they petitioned the powers that be and suggested that perhaps the Gurus should be asked to give up their fiefdom to the administration instead. After all, no one really enjoys being in a fiefdom. It's oppressive and stuff. And then, because law school is like high school, drama ensued.

Eventually, Sir Galahad, a former Student Tavern Association Lord was sent in to negotiate the cessation of hostilities against Port Royal fix things. Our story ends here, as the final decision rests with King Sager's court.

Meanwhile, those who review the law have the last laugh, because despite the fact that their empire stretches over vast areas upon the fourth floor and all of the problems could have been solved by making them share some of their excessive space, it's simply not an option because their all-powerful alumni ensure that the empire remains untouched.

But at least now we know who really reigns supreme.

Readers chimed in on this post to talk about how crappy their Dell computers are/were. So I thought I'd share a little story about my own Dell.

My mom's a "computer person." Or at least that's what I call her, mostly because I can't say that I honestly understand what she does. She does computer work for the government. She used to do computer work for the White House. We had a PC before people really had PCs, and I can't remember a time in my life when we didn't have a computer in the house. So when she found out that I could get a laptop with financial aid, her eyes sort of glazed over and she looked like a small boy just discovering the beauty of video games for the first time. I didn't know the first thing about what I needed in a laptop, so I told her to order it for me.

The day before I was due to leave for Austin, my laptop came in. Only, there was nothing "lap" about it. My 11 lb. monster of a machine was about 3-4 inches thick when closed and was just all-over enormous. My classmates regularly made fun of the size of my laptop, joking about how I was compensating for something or how it was the cause of global warming or how it might break the desk when I set it down. But the real joke was on my back, because the laptop + law books = impossibly heavy. I had two choices: I could either get a roller bag and then really be the butt of jokes, or I could go computerless in class. I opted for the latter.

Eventually I started bringing The Beast back to school as my study habits changed, and there was never a point when it wasn't a pain in the ass due to its sheer size. But its size was actually the only problem I've ever had with it (well, that and the fact that the fan is kind of loud). Other than that, I never had to replace anything but the power cord and even that only happened once. I've never had a virus (viruses are scared that they'll get drop-kicked by The Beast), I've never needed a new battery or motherboard or mousepad or anything. I finally couldn't deal with the inconvenience of having a huge computer and got a much nicer (read: smaller) HP, but my mom still uses The Beast on a daily basis (which is fitting, since she picked it out).

So I think the lesson we can all take away from my experience is that Dell is actually capable of making sturdy, reliable, quality machines.

It's just not capable of making them for under 11 lbs.

Just so it's clear, I have no issue with the CSO. Erin Sweeney in particular has been uber helpful to me this past year, and Tina Fernandez did her best for me last year. I do think the entire system is set up so that the CSO is in a position where they can best help those who don't really need it, but that's how a lot of things are set up. Because I'm inherently an optimist, I feel like I'll find something eventually. But if I don't, it won't be because of the CSO.

It'll be because of my leprosy.



Last clarification: I don't know nor did I bother to look up the actual statistics on UT grads with jobs 3 months after graduation or whatever they measure. When I went in to talk to the CSO last semester, I was assured that I was not alone and that some percentage (I said most of the 3L class in my earlier post... I think it was more like 30-45% when she told me, but now I don't remember) of 3Ls were still looking.

In the meantime, feel free to discuss the merits or lack thereof re: the CSO. Quite frankly, I'm just happy to see so many people other than myself without jobs. It makes me feel like less of a freak show.

You know how it goes down. Your 3L friend walks up, and because he's a 3L and probably never goes to class, you haven't seen him in a while. You make small talk, complain about the non-stop rain, predict SBA election outcomes, and just as the conversation's ending, you ask those words:

"So, do you know what you're doing after you graduate?"

From here the conversation goes a little awkward because, you see, your friend doesn't have a job yet. He's not alone (although he probably feels that way). When the CSO peeps are trying to put me at ease (I occasionally wander into the CSO office sobbing hysterically), they inform me that most of the 3L class does not have permanent employment yet. In between wiping my tears and blowing my nose, I call them dirty liars. It seems like all of my 3L friends have jobs already. But for the purposes of this post, we'll assume that there are in fact 3Ls other than myself without a job lined up. In order to avoid awkward situations with these 3Ls wherein the 3L in question bursts into tears and decides to go play in the traffic on Dean Keeton, simply follow these simple steps.

1. Unless you know with some certainty that they already have a job, don't ask in the first place. In fact, don't talk about post-graduation at all unless they bring it up first. 3Ls may appear to be carefree drunkards who only care about boat parties and pub crawls, but we're really just drinking to forget the fact that the worst summer of our lives will soon be upon us. Deep down, we're all very fragile beings and talk about post-graduation could shatter our mental health (what's left of it after three years of law school, that is).

2. If you know about previous job leads your friend had pursued, don't bring those up. For example, "Hey, what happened with that interview at Baker Botts, did that not work out in the end?" is probably not the best thing to say. So fragile. So fragile.

3. Unless you know of a sure-fire lead (e.g. your uncle's mid-size firm is looking to hire a recent grad to start work in September, etc), don't start asking whether he's looked into certain possibilities. Graduation's in less than two months. I guarantee you that your friend has been all over the CSO, has done every OCI, and refreshes the job bank on Symplicity on an hourly basis.

4. Don't remind him that 98% of grads have a job within three months of graduation or whatever the stupid statistic is. It only serves to help make your friend feel inferior, and at this point he already feels inferior enough as it is.

5. Do not link your friend here. Statistics on how there aren't enough legal jobs to go around might not be best either.

6. Even if you disregard every other tip in this post, please pay attention to this one. Do not under any circumstance say, "Don't worry, you'll get a job." The job is not going to fall from the sky into your friend's lap. He's going to get a job, but only because he stressed out over it, worried, and then worked his ass off to get it. Telling him not to worry is the same thing as telling him to sit back and relax. And sitting back and relaxing is probably not going to help him now. Come to think about it... sitting back and relaxing may be what got him in this position in the first place. And by "him," I mean me.

So just follow these simple steps and you should get along just fine with your jobless 3L friends. All two of them.

1. Harry Potter will not die in Deathly Hallows. He will, however, be willing to die. On the other hand, Snape, Hagrid, Draco Malfoy, and a Weasley are goners. Less strongly held belief- Harry is not a horcrux (my opinion on this varies from week-to-week). My predicted Weasley death: Charlie.

2. Patrick Swayze's "She's Like the Wind" should have never been covered. See also My Prerogative.

3. I generally disagree with the conventional wisdom that one should not match her eye makeup to her clothing. Brown eye shadow is boring eye shadow, at least most of the time. I am especially fond of my burgundy eye pencil.

4. Pixar is incapable of creating a sucky movie, but it will also never top the brilliance that is Finding Nemo.

5. The world needs more argyle. Especially pink argyle.

6. Boxers are hands-down the best dogs in the entire world. Their pitiful eyes, ridiculous under-bites, and wrinkly foreheads are impossible to resist. You haven't experienced the true happiness that a boxer can bring to your life until a fully-grown one tries to sit in your lap because he still believes he's a small puppy. See generally Genji, snow boxer and Roxie, desert boxer.

7. Law professors who make mid-terms due during Spring Break are just being cruel.

8. Real women drink whiskey.

Ruth walks into the interview room to find a panel of three interviewers, who we'll call Randall, Simone, and Paul.

Randall: Ruth! Come in. How's it going?

Ruth: Not bad. How are you all today?

Randall: We're good. They give us free snacks and drinks in the lounge.

Paul: So, Ruth, you're 25 and from El Paso. Where in New Mexico is that, exactly?

Ruth: It's in Texas, actually.

Awkward pause.

Simone: Ruth, why are you here today?

Ruth: To be the next Summer Associate^TM.

Randall: All right! I like to hear that!

Simone: And what makes you think you can win this contest?

Ruth: I'm a people person. People really like me and I have a great personality. And my style is unlike any of the other Summer Associates^TM you've had in the past.

Simone: Okay, what do you have for us today?

Ruth: Today I'm going to recite from the United States Code Annotated, beginning with Title 3, Chapter 1--Presidential Elections and Vacancies.

Paul: Excellent. That's Simone's favorite, you know.

Ruth: That's what the recruiting coordinator, Ms. Seacrest, told me before I came in. I hope I do it justice.

Simone: We hope so too.

Ruth: So, then, should I just go at any time?

Randall: Any time.

Ruth: Okay. Section 1: Time of appointing electors. Um...the electors of President and Vice President shall be appointed, in each State, on the Tuesday next after the first... the first... Monday in November... in every... in every... shoot!... on the Tuesday next after the first Monday in November in every... um... in every... I'm sorry. Can start again? I can't remember the words.

Paul: You want to try another section maybe?

Ruth: Yeah. I think that will be better. I'm just really nervous.

Paul: It's okay.

Randall: How about Section 4--Vacancies in the electoral college?

Ruth: Yes. That's a good one. I'll do that instead. (Ruth takes a deep breath to steady her nerves.) Section 4--Vacancies in the electoral college. Each State may, by law, provide for... provide for... um... provide for... the filling of... of... any vacancies which may occur in its college of electors when such college meets to give its... electoral vote.

Awkward pause.

Simone: I'm not being rude, but that was appalling.

Ruth: Well, that's your opinion.

Simone: And it's a good one.

Ruth: I'm sorry. I'm just so nervous. Can I try again?

Simone: No. I'm sorry. It's a no. Paul?

Paul: I really like you, but I think that maybe a Summer Associate^TM position just isn't for you. I'm sorry, hon.

Randall: Yeah, dog, it's gonna be a no from me too.

Ruth: I can try again! I can do the Second Amendment.

Simone: No.

Paul: Sorry.

Ruth: But I'm right for this! I can do this!

Simone: No.

Ruth: But... please, just... a well regulated militia, being necessary to the security of a free state, the right of the people to keep and bear arms, shall not be infringed!

Simone: No!

Ruth: No soldier shall, in time of peace be quartered in any house, without the consent of the owner, nor in time of war, but in a manner to be prescribed by law!

Simone: That's enough. I'm leaving. Paul, you want a bottled water?

Simone exits the interview room, and Ruth, recognizing defeat, follows. She is met outside by Ms. Seacrest, the Recruiting Coordinator.

Seacrest: How did it go?

Ruth: [beep] Simone! What the [beep] does she know about [beep]ing talent? She wouldn't know [beep]ing talent if it [beep]ing danced naked in front of her skank ass.

Seacrest: So, it didn't go well?

Ruth: (Sobbing.) I don't care what they say! I'm going to make it. I'm going to be a famous lawyer some day, billing oodles of money an hour. They'll see! They want to pass me over... they'll get crap this summer. Just wait. They can't crush my dreams!

Seacrest: Stay tuned for more Summer Associate^TM auditions, after this commercial break!

I was chatting with an old friend via Y!M the other day, and remembered how vastly superior the Y!M smilies are to every other instant messaging program. Not only did the smilies cover pretty much any feeling I wanted to convey to my old friend, but they also accurately illustrate every type of feeling and characteristic you can have during finals.

The All-Nighter

Still wearing the same clothes from the previous day, the All-Nighter face is the default expression of a person who leaves an average of two notes a week in the suggestion box in the Tarlton, asking that the library be kept open 24 hours per day during finals. In the meantime, he sets up shop in the Tom Clark Lounge and lives off of the hot pockets, donuts and milk in the vending machines. The All-Night face may be due to the of writing a paper, a last effort for Wills & Estates, or homelessness. Whatever the reason, when you see the All-Nighter face, you can sometimes count on him to push you up a spot or two on the curve, usually because his lack of sleep finally caught up to him... during the exam. The All-Night face can be seen in approximately 2% of the law school population (not counting 24-hour exams).

The Generally Confused

The most common expression during exams (especially among the 1L class), a number of people aren't freaking out, they're just a little confused about the rule against perpetuities, about property law in general, or perhaps about law school itself. The Generally Confused will be sprinkled throughout the curve, as some will watch their confusion drift away happily during the exam while the confusion of others will be apparent in their answers. The Generally Confused make up about 54% of the law school population (closer to 68% among 1Ls).

The Worry Wart

Despite having a 3.81 GPA, the Worry Wart is the face of a person who continues to stress during each finals season. Each exam period, the Worry Wart has to isolate herself from the world because any time someone starts talking about a class she's in, she starts having visions of Ds and Fs. Always seconds away from either crying or laughing or vomiting, the Worry Wart knows that all of her anxiety is pointless, but she just can't seem to help it. 93% of Worry Warts spent a lot of time doing theatre in high school and college. This may or may not explain their current behavior and repertoire of facial expressions.

The Law Review Kid

Self explanatory.

The Flirt

The Flirt can be spotted by her low-cut shirt, often seen hanging out with The Law Review Kid or the professor himself. She may or may not be heard saying things like "I'd do anything for an A."

McSerious

Remember when your friend was so much fun throughout the semester? Do you often look at him now, thinking, "I don't even know who you are anymore." Fear not, your friend is just a McSerious (full of fun until Thanksgiving, and then incapable of cracking so much as a smile again until his last exam is over). Be warned, his Jekyll & Hyde personality will return every exam period, so you may just want to avoid him during finals.

The Stressor

The Stressor is usually in abundance towards the end of finals when a number of students just. can't. take. anymore. The Worry Wart and the All-Nighter faces are at particularly high risk for morphing into The Stressor.

The Cry Baby

Related to The Stressor, but 99% of Cry Babies are female. Extra points for doing it in public, like me. ;)

Laptop Eyes

Pretty much anyone who types their own outlines. Seen on about 70% of the 1L population, and about 40% over all.

The Calm & Collected

It's okay to openly hate them. Sometimes you can make yourself feel better by making fun of their outfit or spreading nasty rumors about why they're so confident.

Pre-Exam Prayer

Even the non-devout can get in on this one.

During-Exam Ruth

Yeah, this is pretty much how I feel during most exams. I call it my "B+ Face."

Immediately Post-Exam

I know Forbath's 1Ls felt (and some of them even looked) like this on Tuesday. I felt like that after Copyright last spring.

1 Hour Post-Exam

When you feel like no matter what you got on the exam, you're just glad that bitch is over. This feeling is short lived, however, as you begin to gear up for the next one and your face reverts back to The Worry Wart, The All-Nighter, or the Generally Confused.

Post-Exam Period

See you downtown!

Post-Post-Exam Party

Sleep never felt so scrumtrilescent. I, unfortunately, won't get to enjoy this one until the day after my last exam once I've completed the gazillion hour drive home.

The Professors

Bastards.




*Lest anyone think I was the first person to come up with a list like this one, check out Mike and Russ for a more in-depth look at exam time personalities.

*Originally posted Dec. 18, 2005 under the title "Killing Me Softly With His... Exam." Edited to reflect current class load. New content is overrated.

Ruth is sitting in the library when she catches a hooded figure in a black cloak and carrying a scythe walking around as if lost. No one else on the floor seems to notice him. Ruth thinks she's having a caffeine-induced hallucination, and tries to ignore him. She fails. The figure then realizes that Ruth can see him and moseys on over in a manner much too jovial for his outfit. Ruth is now way uncomfortable as he walks towards her.

Ruth (whispering): I don't think they allow scythes in the library.

Death: THERE'S NO NEED TO WHISPER. THEY CAN'T HEAR YOU WHILE YOU'RE TALKING TO ME.

Ruth: Which, of course, raises the question... how come I can talk to you? It seems like no one else even sees you.

Death: SINCE YOU'RE KILLING YOURSELF OVER YOUR CONFLICTS EXAM, YOU GET IN ON A TECHNICALITY. NEVER UNDERESTIMATE THE POWER OF METAPHOR.

Ruth: ...

Death: ANYWAY, CAN YOU TELL ME HOW TO GET THE ROOF? SOMEONE'S DUE TO JUMP IN A FEW MINUTES, AND IF I'M LATE THAT'LL MEAN A LONG AND VERY PAINFUL RECOVERY FOR THE JUMPER, AND AS SOON AS I FILE ALL THE PROPER PAPERWORK FOR LATE DEATHS, I'LL JUST COME BACK FOR HIM ANYWAY. BETTER FOR HIM TO GO QUICKLY.

Ruth: Oh, shit! Someone's going to jump? We need to call someone, we need to--hang on... why would anyone here want to jump off the roof of the Tarlton? I mean, finals can be tough, but isn't that a little over dramatic?

Death (pulling triplicate forms out of his cloak pocket): WELL NO ONE EVER SAID DEATH HAD TO BE BORING. ACCORDING TO THIS PAPERWORK, THE JUMPER'S SAYING SOMETHING ABOUT FAILING OUT OF LAW SCHOOL.

Ruth: That doesn't make any sense. You don't fail out of UT Law.

Death (scratching head): I'M FAIRLY CERTAIN THIS SAYS "I'M GOING TO FAIL OUT OF LAW SCHOOL!" SEE, RIGHT THERE. (Death points.)

Ruth (scanning paperwork): Oh, I see the problem. You're at the wrong school. See there? It says "Baylor Law School."

Death: OH. SO IT DOES. I JUST SAW 'TEXAS' LISTED UNDER STATE, AND JUST ASSUMED I SHOULD COME HERE.

Ruth: It's okay. Everyone would rather come here than Baylor.

Death: I SHOULD GET GOING THEN. THAT POOR STUDENT'S DUE TO JUMP ANY MINUTE. I'LL SEE YOU TOMORROW, RUTH.

Ruth: Tomorrow?

Death: OH YEAH. THAT CONFLICTS EXAM IS GOING TO KILL YOU.

After getting several emails from desperate 1Ls wanting to know whether it's worth taking the time to mail out a gazillion resumes tomorrow, I finally decided to answer. I wasn't going to--after all, I didn't do the mail-out as a 1L. Hell, I graduate in like 5.5 months, and I still have no idea what I'll be doing after that. But there was something about the desperation in their emails that made me feel for them. I made a couple of calls and was able to compile the following advice from peeps who had been there, done that. I will reproduce that advice right now.

1. First I asked them about how many resumes people should be sending out. There was, of course, some debate on the matter, but the general consensus was at least 200. Any less than that and the odds go down to the point where it's not worth your time and effort. The largest number of firms from people I talked to was 642, but he was able to get his unemployed uncle to stuff the envelopes for him for $4.00 an hour. If you haven't started your mail-out stuff yet, you probably want to stay closer to 200.

2. Be sure to use at least 32lb. 100% cotton resume paper. And only in ivory. White was *so* last season, and grey is just a huge faux-pas. Nothing says "bor-ing" like grey resume paper. If you've already printed everything on white, I suggest spending the extra time and money to go purchase some ivory and print it all out again.

3. Always list at least three interests on your resume in order to give you some more talking points during interviews. And don't list things like "Astros baseball" or "Texas Hold-em poker." All that does is signal to the firm that you're going to try to sneak out of the office early on game day or gamble with your client's money or both. Instead, you should keep your interests safe. The most common one is "proof of breach of duty in a negligence case," so you clearly want to avoid that one because it's overdone. But "the commerce clause" and "motions to dismiss for lack of subject matter jurisdiction" are still solid ones to list.

4. Don't use cute stamps, even though it's December. No snowflakes, no Santa, no gingerbread cookies. Get out that good-ole' Statute of Liberty and quit complaining. Better yet, go for metered mail. Already put snowflake stamps on 250 envelopes? It's only $97.50 to get new ones. It'll be worth it. You don't, under any circumstances, want to come across as silly and festive. It's a sure-fire way to get your letters to the trash. For all they know, you're the type of person to wear hideous Christmas sweaters or a Mickey Mouse as Santa Claus tie. Go plain.

5. No matter how worried you are about finals, you should be willing to sacrifice the 12 hours minimum it takes to get all this stuff in order. After all, getting a job is a competition and the sooner you can get out the gate the sooner you can reach the finish line, which in this case = making partner. Yeah, so you're looking at least 10 years before the finish line presents itself, but better ten years than ten years and one day. If you half-ass this, you'll probably half-ass everything else in law school, and then you'll end up like me, alone and without a job and bitter for all eternity. Except I'm not bitter because it's not in my personality. It's probably in yours, though, so don't half-ass this.

6. Be sure to have a catchy name. One they'll remember after they've sorted through thousands of resumes. Don't have a memorable name? Change it. Select a name, put it on your resume, and then go have it legally changed. It may seem like a hassle, but you'd be amazed how many interviews you get when your name is Oliver Wendel Holmes, Richard Posner, or Ally McBeal.

7. Don't bother with Avery mailing labels. They're a hassle to stick them to each individual envelope, it's nearly impossible to get them on exactly straight, and they're completely gauche these days anyway. Just hire a professional calligrapher to do your addressing. You can get a decent one for about $1.00 per envelope, so it's only going to be an extra $200-$300 depending on how many firms you're looking at. It's a small price to pay for perfection. And that kind of attention to detail is sure to get you hired.

8. If all else fails, just send home-baked cookies in with your resume. Stuff like that is expected in the legal profession. I recommend sending them straight to the hiring partner and just skipping over the recruiting coordinator.

So, there you have it, boys and girls. I hope that's helpful. Although, if you're a 1L who took the time to read through all of it, you've probably wasted too much time already. Might as well quit now and hope you luck out during Spring OCI.

Inspired by my good friend Katie Mapes' latest column in Harvard Law's The Record. Check her out.

1. Oh, eff! It's finals season here at UT Law! November is here, and Fun is little more than a distant memory. If you decide to hit the books immediately, go to 2. If you choose to go out tonight instead, go to 3.

2. You arrive at the Tarlton, with books for each of your classes, study guide for each of your books, and a box of flashcards for each of your study guides. You begin unpacking your bag at your favorite study carrel, but the noise from setting the books on the desk unnerves the stressed out student next to you. After you accidentally drop your Chemerinsky on the floor with a thud, he finally snaps and strangles you to death in order to secure a better spot on the curve. No one attends your funeral because, let's face it, you were kind of annoying anyway.

3. You go downtown and get totally wasted. You end the night singing with Joe Vega at the Blind Pig. You make it home--thanks to the mercy of the cabbie--and spend the rest of the night bonding with your toilet. You awake around 11:45 the next morning. If you choose to go to Juan in a Million for a Don Juan, go to 4. If you head to the library to meet with your study group, go to 5.

4. Juan's is, as always, exactly what you needed. Your headache magically fades away with each bite of the Don Juan. Now feeling better, you head to the coffee shop to study. If you choose to outline your classes all by yourself, go to 6. If you decide to borrow outlines from others, go to 7.

5. You meet with your study group, but your head is pounding so badly from your hangover that you can't form coherent sentences. Your study group begins to get annoyed. Finally, they tell you to leave because you aren't contributing anything of value to the study session. You stand up to go, but you're hit with a wave of dizziness, you fall over, smacking your temple on the corner of the table, dying instantly. Your study group checks for a pulse, and when they realize that you're dead, they vote to wait until after the session to call someone so that they don't lose any more precious study time.

6. After outlining all of your classes, you have them printed out at Kinkos. However, your outlines were about 436 pages each, and when combined they end up crushing you to death under their sheer mass. Kinkos sues your estate for the cost of the printouts.

7. You convince your Law Review buddy to procure all the necessary outlines from the TLR outline bank. You spend some time looking over them and then decide it's time to take some practice exams. If you take a practice exam immediately, go to 8. If you choose to take a break and watch Monday Night Football instead, go to 9.

8. In order to take your practice exam under real exam-like conditions, you need to install Exam4. The installation causes your computer to crash and burn, losing all of your notes and outlines. You can't take it anymore, and you fling yourself from the roof of the Tarlton. No one finds your body until the Spring semester.

9. Your team wins, which pumps you up for taking practice exams. You take one or two and feel sufficiently prepared for the real thing. You take your first exam and feel decently about it when you leave the exam room. Your friends invite you out to Crown & Anchor for lunch and a beer. If you choose to decline and hit the library to start preparing for your next exam, go to 10. If you decide to unwind with a beer at Crown, go to 11.

10. On your way up to the 6th floor of the Tarlton, you die in a freak elevator accident. But, let's face it: by this point in time in the Choose Your Own Adventure, you were totally expecting it.

11. The mushroom swiss burger at Crown & Anchor was particularly fabulous, and the beer was just what you needed to keep sane. You make it through the rest of finals and are pleased with your grades when they start rolling in late January. You do Spring OCI and land a sweet firm job paying way more than you're worth. You laugh at all the assclowns who, despite their high GPAs, just didn't have the personality to wow the various firms in their interviews. You also note how this Choose Your Own Adventure is completely devoid of any bitterness or wishful thinking. You also wonder if the author would be interested in getting drinks with you. If you choose to ask her out for drinks, go to 12. If you decide she's out of your league, go to 13.

12. She accepts and the two of you have a wonderful time. Stories of how drunk the two of you got are told around the law school for years to come. The hiring partner teases you about it during your summer clerkship, but you still get a permanent offer and live happily ever after.

13. The firm decides that while you're relatively smart, you're just too timid and antisocial. You don't get a permanent offer. You disappoint your parents, and your friends kick you out of the Super Sekrit Firm Job club. You die of embarrassment. Literally. Only your parents and Ruth attend the funeral, but Ruth remarks about what a nice person you were and how she only wished that you'd had the chance to drink together at least once before your untimely death.

Overcrowded library? Check.
Overcrowded coffee shops? Check.
Over abundance of study groups? Check.
People studying with earplugs in? Check.
Outline trading? Check.
Freaked out 1ls? Check².
So much stress that you can feel it in the air? It's getting there.

All of that can only mean one thing. Finals can be seen on the horizon. Fun is not only dead, but it didn't even get a proper burial. Welcome to law school finals, friends. And now... a song.

It's beginning to look a lot like finals
Here at UT Law;
Take a look in the Tarlton, it's filled up once again
With students who just want to withdraw.

It's beginning to look a lot like finals
You can't even flee
And the scariest sight to see is the 1ls that will be
Scared of getting Cs.

A pair of E&E books and an outline that's good
Is the wish of Barney and Ben;
Flashcards by the box, and a Gilbert's that rocks
Is the hope of Janice and Jen;
And the 1Ls can hardly wait for school to fin'lly end.

It's beginning to look a lot like finals
Coffee by the pot;
There's a kid on the fourth floor who's trying to read some more
But Torts has tied his brain into a knot

It's beginning to look a lot like finals;
Soon the tests will start,
And the thing that will make them sting is the terror that you bring
From within your heart.

It's rejection letter season, and if you're like me, you have more than you know what to do with. Sure, you could just toss them, but we're supposed to reuse, renew, recycle, right? This list focuses on the "reuse" part.

5. Rejection Letter Scratch Paper. Sure, this is the obvious one, but there is a basic satisfaction that arises from writing your grocery list or directions to the next house party on the back of a form letter telling you that you'll make a great lawyer someday with your excellent qualifications, just not at [Insert Firm Name Here].

4. Rejection Letter Oragami. Instead of swans and dragons, fold your rejection letter into small swords, knives, or a little oragami AK-47. Appropriate.

3. Rejection Letter Formal Wear. Along the same lines as the Duct Tape prom outfits, but much less durable. Avoid spilling drinks on your dress or suit if the rejection letters were printed on cheap paper.

2. Rejection Letter Paper Mache. Grab some paper mache paste and construct a small hut or shack. Then if your job prospects don't improve, you can later live in it when you can no longer afford to pay rent.

1. Rejection Letter Voodoo Dolls. Find your nearest confetti paper shredder and run your letters through it. Then take the confetti and use it to stuff voodoo dolls of the interviewers or hiring partners of the rejecting firms. Remember that Voodoo is a religion, so be sure to perform the proper ceremonies. Also, you may not want to tell your friends about this one; it might creep them out and make them avoid you as much as possible.

(What Would Wings&Vodka Write?)

Today has been a sad day in my blogging life. I finally removed my bookmark to Wings&Vodka, and I resigned from De Novo after finally admitting to myself that I really never post there.

So when I got the following email today, I was really feeling the void in my life. Mostly I knew that if W&V was still blogging, that email would have gone to him instead of me. In fact, the email probably did go to him instead of me and was then sent to me only after his sign off. But whatevs. The point is that he would have answered it much better than I can, and it's sad that he won't be answering it. Here's the email:

Dear Ruth,

As you probably know, this Saturday is the biggest day in college football this season. I have season tickets, and I'm definitely going to the game, but I do have a LOT of reading to do too. Like I said, I'm already going to the game, so my question is should I tailgate first? And if so, then what time should I start? I'm asking you because you seem to take a level-headed approach to law school.

Thanks,
1L

Now see, I would have just ignored that email because WTF? We haven't even been in school two full weeks yet! But I had to stop and ask myself WWW&VW? And he wouldn't berate this poor, confused 1L. So in W&V's memory, I will try to give advice lovingly.

Dear 1L,

Balance is the key to staying happy in law school. Clearly you've already realized this, since you're planning on attending the game, and I applaud you for it. As for tailgating, that's a little trickier. I hesitate to tell you to go, because if you fall behind now, that could really cost you on your exams in December. After all, the really dedicated students will be sitting this game out. On the other hand, if you're going to the game, I suspect you've already got a handle on your semester, meaning you've done all your class reading, outlined your courses, and have moved onto practice exams. So the way I see it, if you've done at least two practice exams in each class, then go ahead and start at noon with the slackers. If you've only done one exam in each class, you may want to stay in the library until about 2:00 or so. And even if you haven't done a practice exam in every class yet, you can still probably afford to get about an hour or two of tailgating before the big game. And if you're feeling at all unsure of yourself, just take some flashcards with you to go over during time outs and half time.

Glad to help,

Ruth

Student 1: Hey, I've got an outline for Sokolow's BA from the Law Review outline bank. I'll give it to you in exchange for a Wills & Estates outline.

Student 2: Dude, everyone has that BA outline. It's the most highly traded outline out there. I'll tell you what, ask your Law Review connection for a Sexuality and the Law outline, and we've got a deal.

Student 1: No can do. I already had him check for another trade I was doing. Oh! I bet the public interest groups would have it.

Student 2: Good call. My friend in PILA needs a Secured Credit outline. You get me the Secured Credit so that I can trade for the Sex outline, and I'll give you my Wills & Estates. Although, I didn't realize you were taking Wills.

Student 1: I'm not. I need it to trade with my friend in exchange for Woolley's Civ Pro that I'm giving to a 1L who has a good Copyright outline that I can trade for Corporate Tax.

Student 3: You know, you two could just try outlining your classes yourselves.

Students 1 & 2: ...

Student 2: Right, well I'll get on that Wills outline for you. I know of a guy who will trade his for a good FIT...