| | Or, Because the Mysterious Yearning Secretive Sad Lonely Troubled Confused Loving Photographically Gifted Intelligent Beautiful Tender Sensitive Haunted Passionate Talented Mr. Czolya is too long to fit in the title line.
My life's been playing out like one of those indie flicks wherein the (anti) hero muddles around about life, no friends, no excitement, everything's droll, and he realizes that he's a cog in a machine that he might be able to escape but he's too apathetic to do so and instead sits around spouting random but poignant lines of Proust and Foucault all day and no one ever understanding him, even that young beautiful girl who tries, unlike anyone else, to understand him but is fated to be aloof to his meanderings as insular as they are external.
Not that my life has become that barren or is going to adapted to the silver screen and in the running for a Palme d'Or at Cannes next Spring (and thus relieve me much earlier of the burden of carrying this law school loan debt earlier than I would like). Nor are there any lines from Proust, Foucault, or even Sartre coming from my lips. It's all black-letter law. People can pretend to care about panopticism. People find Being and Nothingness sexy. NO ONE gives a damn about strict scrutiny tests for fundamental rights. And fate would have it that the Bar examiners don't really give a damn about human rights law, treaty law, or intellectual property. Sure, there's a bit of overlap. Think Venn diagrams. A. B. C is what I took in law school. C is just a teeny little slice between A and B on the Bar Exam. International Business Transactions did more to prepare me for the Bar exam (Contracts) than International Humanitarian Law (treaties are the supreme law of the land, which is a question or two in the Constitutional law section), but the latter I believe probably did more to prepare me for being a lawyer. And I'm not the one writing the exam (sorry for the confusion this brings any of my Canadian readers, I hope you didn’t leave your Canuck - Yank translators at home).
Then again, no pretty, lonely, equally misunderstood girl is following me around the halls of the law school, where I've been spending most of this surreal experience. We're all in the same boat together. I look like hell. We all look like hell. No one certainly has anything approaching Scarlett Johannsen in Lost in Translation. You have me and all the people studying for the NY Bar in one lecture hall. Just across the rotunda from us are the IL Bar people. And there's a smattering of some OH Bar folks who wander in and out of the school now and again. They're looking much more chipper than us in the NY Bar classroom. So do the IL Bar folk.
The central reason I bring up movies is that the one strange side effect of studying for the Bar are the increased vividness and lucidity of my dreams; to the point where I wake up feeling as if I sat through a film festival that went on in my head. At first I appreciated my subconscious trying to keep me entertained but one feature film-esque dream is enough per night when I'm trying to remember the intricacies of contracts, torts, constitutional law, wills, etc. I don't want to have to deal with myriad characters engaging in epic battles utilizing zeppelins, spaceships, flying carpets, and giant beanstalks (all at once, mind you). I found the dream dealing with architects remodeling Big Ben and transforming its beautiful four analog clock faces as they appear now into rectangular digital screens a bit confusing though not out of the realm of possibility given the proclivity of some architects to transform what has been established as beautiful into something no one finds beautiful to try to push the boundaries of what we find as such. Leave those meditations to the Tao Te Ching, at least for the next month. After the second week of Bar prep, I started dreaming like mad. I've started dreaming even before I fall completely asleep. Maybe I'm just that fatigued. However, I wake up remembering, at least in the first few minutes, four or five dreams. Too much. Too tiring. I want to sleep and get rest and not remember anything except that the intentional tort of battery at common law involves four elements: (i) the intentional (ii) offensive contact by the defendant (iii) of the plaintiff's body that (iv) causes harm. I don't need to bother myself about flying on a spaceship to the planet Zephyron where there are no Bar exams but where everybody settles disputes by stepping into a boxing ring. Naturally, I worry about what sort of dilemmas this system creates when the 90-year old decrepit grandma accuses the 18-year old thug built like a bulwark of snatching her purse. But each society, having survived long enough, has its own reasons for dealing with its problems in its own way.
Right now, I'm dealing with my own. Both in the very real realm of Bar prep and the oneirosphere. 26 more days to game day.
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| | Posted 7/2/2009 2:55 PM - 21 Views - 4 eProps - 3 comments
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