"In vacant or in pensive mood..." I am: Bekah; 24; Law Student / Favorite Things: Carbs (so there!), Johnny Damon, Smiling at babies, Grilled cheese, Comfortable silence / Favorite Supreme Court Justice: Brennan / Favorite Wilson: Owen by an inch / Today's Special: Song: Elliott Smith, "Bled White"; Quote: "You know, there's like a butt-load of gangs at this school. This one gang kept wanting me to join because I'm pretty good with a bowstaff." Please love me: mmbekah@yahoo.com

 
I was talking with my friend Greg about the Commerce Clause yesterday. In case you a) are a supremely lucky individual and are not in law school, or b) somehow haven't gotten to chance to brush up on your knowledge of the Constitution lately (why ever not?), the Commerce Clause is a provision in the Constitution that gives Congress the power to regulate commerce. (Damn, that's a lot of C's. That makes me think of consonance and poetry and nice, pretty things I used to be able to read before the Uniform Commercial Code and Estates in Land decided to take over. Why can't I go back to a time when I could just read Middlemarch and call it a day?) Anyway, I will only subject you to one piece of information about the Commerce Clause so that I can tell my story. It's short and painless: one of the Supreme Court's early interpretations of "commerce" was "commercial intercourse." So back to the story, I was talking to Greg and he said that every Con Law issue looks like the Commerce Clause to him. And then the male psyche became so clear to me. I breathed an exasperated sigh and explained, "It's not all about intercourse, Greg."

posted by Bekah at 3:11 PM :: |

 
I am going to sue my dad for telling me to go to law school.

posted by Bekah at 3:14 PM :: |

 
I know, I'm big on the lists lately, but it's just because they allow me to say a lot of short, unrelated things without having to draw them together in any coherent way. So here's a list from the past few days. Wait, I'll justify the list: Its randomness represents my state of mind during exams. There, see, I'm not slacking.

1. Today at the coffeehouse (and by "today," I do mean the full 24 hours), I made small talk with a boy who had a fantastic hipster combover. I was wearing one of my Beck t-shirts that says "The Beck," and he asked, while handing me my coffee, "what's 'The Beck'?" Thrilled that he spoke to me, I smiled nervously and answered, "It's just Beck referring to himself in the third person because he's that cool. And my name is Rebekah, so it's kind of a double meaning. Hehe." He seemed pleased. I looked around to make sure people had seen the interaction. It was a moment of vindication for me because I'm usually really intimidated by the people who work at the coffeehouse. They wear vintage jeans and old Velvet Underground shirts. They have jackets with 1950's political buttons and ones that say things like "God is for wimps" and "I love Joey Ramone." They do not bathe often, because they are above such things. And one of them actually spoke to me. My hipster level is rapidly increasing by association.

2. I was talking to one of my friends yesterday about how my mom is in Oxford writing a book and my dad is a law professor, and how I sometimes feel (slightly) inferior. He said, "Oh, I'm sure they live just to look at you." By far the nicest thing anyone has ever said to me. I'm still smiling today at the thought.

3. I saw a boy today and knew something was strange about his appearance. Then I realized that he was walking without swinging his arms naturally by his sides. This gave him a very evil automaton-like aspect, as if he were on a mission to eradicate the human race. The look of distant determination in his eyes also suggested that he was trying to keep his arms still as part of some sort of sick experiment. In a moment of intense psychological insight, I decided that he must have been one of those kids who worked tirelessly day after day at recess trying to jump on the shadow of his head, or bite his own ear, or to perform other sundry tasks that are not humanly possible. Then one day, entirely by chance, he discovered the stiff-armed walk and was able to defy natural human behavior in a way he couldn’t before. Additionally, I concluded that he has trouble interacting normally in social settings, suffers from feelings of inadequacy, and likely has unresolved issues with his mother. Some people are so easy to read.

posted by Bekah at 12:50 AM :: |

 
The weight of exams is descending. I only have time for a few thoughts today:
1. I was walking behind two law students this morning, and they both stopped dead in their tracks at a "don't walk" sign, despite the fact that the streets were deserted. I deftly circumvented them and continued on my way. That experience illustrates a lot of things, but I'm too tired to go into the details. Feel free to draw your own conclusions. What really pisses me off is that those two are probably going to kick my ass on the Contracts exam. Something is just not right.
2. If I see or hear about another med student who smokes like a chimney, I am going to pull my hair out. I already think smoking is, hands down, the dumbest thing a person can do. Tied with drunk driving, maybe. But a med student who smokes is just the last straw. I think they actually light up as their looking at overhead projections of blackened lungs and cancer of the mouth. ("Yes, (cough, cough), his throat is quite (cough) red and inflamed.") Maybe they know something I don't.
posted by Bekah at 10:02 AM :: |

 
I really really hate having to order things with cheesy names. I also hate the fact that employees at places like Smoothie King actually enjoy watching the poor customers squirm as they make their orders. Today, I wanted a pineapple smoothie. But could I order a "Pineapple Smoothie"? Oh, no. That would make too much sense. No, at Smoothie King, one must order a "Pinapple Pleasure." I think it's obvious that there is something fundamentally wrong with having to utter the word "pleasure" in a Smoothie King, especially to a greasy man with a ponytail who has protein powder on his shirt. I also find it offensive that I am required to refer to a simple blended beverage in such a fancy way. I get upset about having to do it, and then I get nervous and flustered. Today, I tried to rebel. "I'd like a small pineapple please." "Is that a pineapple pleasure?" "Yes. Yes, that's right," I grumbled. Like he didn't know. Smug bastard.
posted by Bekah at 5:48 PM :: |