"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

 
Memo #2
To: Law Professors
From: Your Conscience (yes, me again)
Re: Update on Emulating Satan: It’s Still Not Friendly

Dear Law Professors:

I write again to inform you that your performance of late has been decidedly sub par. Granted, my April 29th memo was directed specifically to the writing of exams, so I can appreciate your feeling mildly confused when the time for grading rolled around. That being said, I must confess that I expected more of you. I expected a more subtle capacity for creative cognition, and a slightly more sophisticated intuitive grasp of the idea I was attempting to convey.

Today I would like to emphasize, so that future misunderstandings may be avoided, that my request for you to harness your demonic tendencies pertains to both the writing and grading of exams. Let’s look at a case-in-point, shall we? A certain 1L, who I will refer to as “Fekah” in order to protect her identity, recently received all of her grades. Please take note of the following points of interest:

1. The two classes for which Fekah studied the hardest, longest, and most intensely (read: tabbed and color-coded outlines; highly annotated casebooks) were her lower grades.
2. The class for which Fekah studied for a mere two days prior to the exam was her highest grade.
3. Fekah received identical grades for the exam she felt best about and the exam she felt worst about.

Query (to use language to which your kind is accustomed): Given this information, how can it possibly be said that law school exams are an accurate measure of a student’s knowledge? How is a legal “education” accomplished if students can never be sure whether or not they actually understand the material? Let me explain. In law school, a student can make it through the semester, really feeling confident about his coursework, only to discover, by proclamation of one grade, that he did not understand anything after all. Conversely, someone may think, “Golly gee, I don’t get this stuff and I didn’t really work at all in this class. I’m screwed,” and end up with an A. What, may I ask, is the function of such an academic system? And where might a student who is rewarded for studying less and punished for studying more get the motivation to study at all? Might she rather decide to watch Joe Millionaire and alphabetize her cd collection? (Don't strain yourself. The answer is: yes, she might).

Please know that I am not undermining your intelligence or your capabilities as educators (for the most part). I merely wish to inform you that law school exams are ineffective, unrealistic, and unfair measurements of a student’s worth and capability. There is too much room for an unfair variable (misreading a question, having a headache, sitting next to a heavy breather), and not enough time for the student to make the professor understand how much he studied and how much he knows. If the question is too pointed, the student is precluded from exhibiting his creativity or depth of knowledge. If the question is too broad, the student can’t be sure what information he should include. It is a completely backwards method of evaluation, and it needs to be seriously reconsidered.

Unless I get an A.

posted by Bekah at 2:17 PM :: |

 
Metaphorically Speaking

Starbucks is starting to look up. There seems to be another musical genre occupying the airwaves today. Kind of indie, kind of oldie…I even heard a little Bob Dylan. This could work. Besides, I brought my headphones for emergencies. I am, however, troubled by the poster next to me. It depicts three Starbucks “non-coffee” beverages (like mocha and coconut) floating in the sky, attached to kite strings. I fail to see the point of this advertisement. Why would Starbucks beverages ever be likened to kites? Perhaps I lack the requisite creativity to appreciate the poster, but I think it would have been cooler if the beverages were visually analogized to something a little more plausible. Like a river, or a swimming pool or something. Something with volume, something liquid. Something that does not fly through the air and get caught in trees.

I don’t think I’m wrong to be skeptical of this ad. Here’s why. Last night I was flipping the channels and came upon the final round of the Miss Universe pageant, which consisted of questions written by the contestants themselves (literate and everything!). One of the contestants was asked the following question: “If you could be either fire or water, what would you be?” The ever-analytical contestant answering the question, with a puzzled expression on her beautiful face, explained that she was “a girl with feelings,” and, since a girl is neither fire nor water, she could not understand how to possibly make such a decision. Ah, metaphor. So elusive a device among the strikingly beautiful. I wonder what she would have done if the judge had told her that she was “a delicate flower.” Perhaps she would have potted herself for display in his windowsill?

Thought of the Day: Why do they call it a “laptop computer” if when you attempt to place it directly on your lap your thighs suffer third degree burns? I’m guessing it’s because Gateway is an evil corporation. I’m just kidding, I love you Gateway. Kidding. Please don’t unleash your wrath or voodoo powers and make my computer die. I’m still mourning my flip-flops.

posted by Bekah at 12:28 PM :: |

 
At Least They Display Local Artwork on the Walls...

I have been attempting to work at Starbucks lately because 1) they have dial-up internet and 2) it's not the law school. My favorite coffeehouse is not technologically advanced enough for my research-assisting needs, so I've had to branch out. But regardless of Starbucks' internet capabilities, I'm going to have to come up with a few more reasons to be here if it's going to become a regular working environment. Why? All of the usual suspects are of course to blame, including the general lack of personality in the atmosphere, the glaring commerciality of the establishment, and the hoity toity names for all of the drinks. But there are other reasons.

First of all, the music is virtually unbearable. Lots of trumpets, pseudo-jazz, and saccharin Frank Sinatra-type garbage, all played way too loud. My coffeehouse plays Interpol and The Flaming Lips, and only sometimes plays music too bizarre even for me (I recall one particular incident with moaning and loud cricket noises that went just a bit over the line from cool to weird. If you're not sure whether what you're hearing is music or someone slowly dying, you might need to reevaluate your choices).

Secondly, the patrons are less interesting than the ones who frequent my usual place. At least there I get a variety of strange characters who take random pictures and scribble in their little notebooks. I like trying to figure out what those people could possibly be doing with their lives, and how they have the time and money to spend day after day in a coffeehouse (because something tells me they're not law students with really nice parents like mine). Here at Starbucks, everyone has a laptop and seems to be actually doing work. It's boring. And if they're not doing work, they piss me off. For example, a teenage girl in an orange halter top just came in with her boyfriend and started slow dancing with him to the music. Barf. In the middle of the day, in the middle of a public establishment. Barf. She then proceeded to order a "Grande nonfat mocha latte with just a tiny drop of whipped cream" or some such nonsense. Did I mention, barf? Yes, my friends, that is a lot of vomit.

To top it all off, the employees speak extremely loudly. I like background noise, but when one particular conversation about how some lady's husband is excited about his new job in sales and her brother is gay rises well above the jazzy easy listening blaring from the speaker above my head, I actually start to feel flames of anger burning my cheeks. They are also the type of employees who will tell someone who orders a particular thing, "Oh, that's actually not very good. What you really want is..." Sweet Jesus. On the other hand, there is a constant supply of caffeine, the window seat is pretty comfortable, and I can research without setting foot in the law school. I guess it boils down to the following question: Which is worse, a corporate coffeehouse or a law building crawling with stressed-out graduates studying for the bar? I'll have to do some more research before I can make the call.

posted by Bekah at 11:27 AM :: |

 
Of Southern Belles and Big Apples

I’ve been MIA for a few days because I’ve been off celebrating one of life’s most important coming of age events: holy matrimony. No, no, don’t worry, I did not elope with Airport Freak (see below), although it took everything in my power not to yield to the temptation. My friend Jenny is the one tying the knot at the end of the summer, and the other bridesmaids and I took her to NYC this past weekend to celebrate the occasion. (Yes, I have issues with the fact that my friends are getting married, but I don't want to discuss my quarter-life crisis right now). It would be impossible to write about all of the wonderful events of the trip, so I’ll boil it down to the 5 most memorable:

1. One of the Girls. If left to my own devices, I would maintain good personal hygiene and keep my fingernails and toenails in respectable, functional condition. But when this particular group of girlfriends takes control, I become a manicured, pedicured, eyebrow-waxed, walking stereotype of a girly girl. And the thing is--I really enjoy it when they force me to partake of such nonsense. There is nothing wrong with liking it when someone massages your feet. I now have a French manicure (Freedom manicure if you're nasty), a pedicure, and perfectly groomed brows. As we walked out of the salon, Melissa caught me admiring my nails and said, "I love making Bekah do girly things. It's my favorite pastime." Yeah, don't quit your day job. We also did other "girly" things like sit around watching movies and eating cookie dough. (I personally think that the general act of sitting around watching movies and eating junk is a gender-neutral pastime). One movie we watched was The Sweetest Thing. Actually, my friends watched it, laughing periodically, while I sat, relatively catatonic, attempting to quantify the shittiness of what was unfolding before me. It ranged somewhere between extreme disgust and infinite repugnance. But this brings me to the absolute best thing about my friends: we may disagree about a lot of things, but we have each other in common, and somehow that is enough to maintain and nurture an amazingly strong decade of friendship.

2. Off Broadway, and Off With Their Pants. On Friday night we saw Naked Boys Singing, which, for the most part, lived up to the title. If I had the job of titling the show, I would probably lean towards Strikingly Nude Young-to-Middle-Aged Gay Men Singing and Dancing Within Inches of Your Face, but sadly it's not up to me. Anyway, the show was hilarious, and definitely worth the wait for tickets, especially for a bachelorette party. A group of gay men in line behind us for the show joked, "Girls? What's a group of girls here for?" We laughed, and I said, "The same thing you are!" The show was an experience you really just can't describe, but I'll give you a taste: the opening song of the second act was called "Members Only," and I assure you the pun was most definitely intended. I do not recommend the front row seat if you are at all timid; the production gives new meaning to the phrase "intimate performance."

3. Serendipity, minus the banal script and horrendously implausible plotline. We went to the famous restaurant and had the famous "Frrozen Hot Chocolate," which was fantastic, but not nearly as good as the $12 slice of cheesecake which we all devoured in seconds. I will remember that cheesecake forever.

4. Musical Shoes. We did lots of walking this weekend, and every day I wore a different pair of shoes. But I didn't do this because I enjoy variety. Let me explain. About a week ago, my favorite flip-flops died. It was an ugly, graphic death. The between-the-toe piece was violently extracted from the rubber sole in a most vulgar fashion, and the plastic innards were splayed onto the sidewalk. Sadly, none of my other shoes were sufficiently broken in for the amount of walking we did this weekend. Therefore, every day my feet were mutilated in a different place. I have cuts on the tops of my feet from one pair of sandals, on the sides from others, and assorted blisters from two pairs of boots. Luckily, I did not get frostbite or trench foot. I am hoping gangrene does not set in. At least I can rest assured that my toenails are in perfect condition.

5. "Turn around, bright eyes..." There is nothing like four great friends dancing in a bar, sipping tasty drinks, singing Total Eclipse of the Heart at the top of our lungs, and joyfully ignoring the unimpressive male clientele. Yes, this weekend we lived the "Ladies Night" that Kool and the Gang extol so beautifully in song. And it was good.

posted by Bekah at 8:31 PM :: |