Law School: The Dominance of Individuality, Cash, and Networks (The First In The Law School Series)

A couple of days ago, I was walking to grab lunch with a friend--or something like that--this is law school, friendship does not exist, it's more like "what the hell can you do for me so I can get a job"-ship. The funny thing is, I find this attitude more prevalent amongst Black folk at the law school than any other group of people. It's all new to me. Though I had some issues with some folk at my undergrad, I can say this: they were SINCERE. I can't say that about the group at OSU. The rumors, gossip, and sniping that goes on in the law school is amazing. Perhaps, I was naive about what I was getting into when I decided to apply to law school--perhaps, my expectations were too high. I thought I would meet amazing and focused people. I haven't. What I have experienced is HIGH SCHOOL all over again.

At the root of all this, is the DOLLAR. Not only do you HAVE bills, but you HAVE loans. You WILL have a car payment (at least, a bus pass, which still costs money). You WILL have a mortgage or rent. Thus, you NEED to have the means to pay all that stuff off. Reality breeds competition. No one wants to be the one to spend nearly $100,000 for an education that leads to nothing but defaults and bad credit (that's assuming that you aren't already there). With all that glaring each law school grad in face and coming closer each passing day, there is more imperative to foster false friendships and take advantage of relationships that can lead you to opportunity. The code name for this in law school is NETWORKING. Though you hear it in undergrad, it becomes common jargon in law school and commonplace at these things called "mixers". In fact, there are things called "NETWORKING MIXERS" (as you can probably tell, I've never been a fan of "networking," I don't believe in it). Sometimes, to get that spot in the summer class (I mean, summer associate class at a law firm) or to network your way into a corner office (someday), will come at the expense of "friendship."

Jealousy becomes common. I have a BIG firm job forthcoming in the summer. I don't tell anyone about it in the law school. I don't brag. But, I can't count the number of times that a fellow Black student has said, albeit sarcastically, "With your big firm job...", "Since you got that big firm job and all..." I don't get it. What happen to just being happy when someone was able to do well? There is a noticeable absence of communal uplift--you know, the feeling that when one of us succeeds, all of us succeeds? If the roles were reversed and I found myself heading to government (which was my original plan), public interest, or a smaller firm, or even jobless, I would be happy for a person that is able to break into those upper echelon larger firms--of course, if that was their goal.

But what more can I say? It's easy to be idealistic when you've got what you want and what everyone (well, mostly everyone) else wishes they had. Community is dead. This is professional school. No one wants to be a broke professional. Unfortunately, it's a reality I find myself accepting more and more each day.

Idealistic? Yeah, I am. Just whenever it suits me. Law school has taught me well.

Barack Wins!!!!!

Barack Wins South Carolina!!!! Not much more to say about that...well, until I get this Brief and the Judge's Order and Memorandum out the way. Stay tuned!!!! You can catch more about Barack's victory, the primaries in general, even those old crusty White things called Republicans on the left in the news bar (though I have to say, Mitt Romney is quite the old crusty white fox, I bet he was a playa back in his day--because as a Mormon you could do stuff like that). A Obama-Romney electoral campaign would have all the ladies drooling.

The Unexplainable Disappearance of Quarter Juices

When I was a youngster, I would often visit my mother's family in Indiana for the summer. Often, the highlight of one of those hot summer days was one of those little juices that came in a bottle that resembled a burrow. You know, the ones that had the aluminum cover over the top that felt like steel. Those things were impossible to get open. My older cousins, who were a lot stronger than I, were able to pop those suckers with their thumb. I, often a brittle, yet adventurous child, was unable to pop those foil tops with my thumb. So, my great-uncle, who seemingly had an infinite supply of those things, would often give me a quarter to tear my juice open with. Then, he would let me keep the quarter to buy candy at the corner store. So, there I would be in my uncle's backyard, playing with my cousins with my teeth, tongue, and lips stained with a heavenly mixture of sugar, water, and red.

My uncle died three years ago. As a general rule, I don't do funerals. Never have and I probably never will. Never the sympathetic type. Too much crying earlier in life leads to a dry eye as you get older. I tried to attend my uncle's funeral at the behest of my mother. The funny thing is as I was about to enter the church, someone noticed I had split my pants. I guess it was God's way of confirming that I can't do funerals. Anyway, before leaving Indiana and driving back home, I decided to stop by the corner store where I often spent my uncle's quarter. Walking around in split pants, I found the quarter juice, the burrow of sugar, water, and red. I bought one, it cost me one quarter. I sat in my car, popped my quarter juice with a quarter of my own. I sipped it. Thought about my uncle. Thought about getting older. It was the last quarter juice I ever had.

Things have changed. I am 23, quickly closing in on 24. Most of my cousins and I have either gone off to jail, college, and the like. Most of my cousins have started families and now give their children "juice boxes". They ain't the same. With the arrival of a new generation and a quickly maturing one, it seems quarter juices are no longer around. Now, you have Capri Suns, Kool-Aid sippers, juice boxes, and juices pouches and all that. Since the day of my uncle's funeral, I have yet to find a quarter juice, the harbinger of my childhood. Maybe, I've outgrown them once and for all.

Gangbangin' On Campus: Black Folks Will Do Anything For Colors

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Barack Obama: The New Jedi Knight

I know HillBill are gunning at my man, Barack Obama. After listening to Barack and Bill trade insults and then having to hear Barack painfully joke about Bill's "Blackness," I got to thinking, "why do Black people have this infatuation with Bill Clinton?" You know, this whole thing that he was the first "Black" President and all. Well, GUESS WHAT?? NEWSFLASH!!!! Bill Clinton is going to wake up in the morning as a crusty old white man and is going to die a crusty old white man. 

What exactly makes Bill seem "Black" to Blacks? Oh, I know what it is, he did each of the following: (1) played the saxophone; (2) smoked weed; (3) got some head in the White House; (4) helped rebuild some Black churches; (5) enjoys a two piece snack box from Church's' Chicken for breakfast, lunch, and dinner; and (6) thought "Soul Plane" was funny.  Yep, sounds Black to me. Okay, I am assuming the last couple of bits.  But, get real!!! If that is what Black people think is being Black, then we have LOW EXPECTATIONS about what being Black means. 

Here, in Barack Obama, we have what every Black mother wishes her son will become: intelligent, articulate, educated, accomplished, and confident (I got to give a quick shout-out to Michelle Obama, she is absolutely FLY; I am going to marry a woman just like her).  Alas, I digress. What is puzzling about Blacks and the way they think about both Bill and Barack comparatively, is that some Black folk are openly questioning Barack's "Blackness," while giving HillBill an absolute pass. I have a question, WHAT EXACTLY DID BILL DO FOR BLACK AMERICA? He did not support the Racial Justice Act that would have allowed people like Warren McCleskey, an African-American on death row who appealed his case to up the Supreme Court and argued that the death penalty was being applied in a racial discriminatory fashion, to establish a prima facie case of racial discrimination by using statistics. See McClesky v. Kemp, 471 U.S. 222 (1985). Instead of challenging the "War On Drugs" policies of the prior Reagan and Bush administrations, which had a disparate impact on African-Americans, Bill tried to show that he was just as conservative on the issue. I am not saying that fighting crime is not worth the political and social exigencies, but what I am saying is this: If Bill thought racial justice was so important, why not address the racial disparity in the imposition of the "War On Drugs" policies and engage in some innovative ideas that may lessen the effect? That's a lingering question I have no definitive answer to. Why is it that it took the "Dub" (George W. Bush) to put Blacks in some clearly noticeable Cabinet positions. Yes, I know about Ron Brown (former Secretary of Commerce), Mike Epsy (former Secretary of Agriculture), and a few others (Bill had a Black Secretary of Transportation, a couple of Black Surgeon Generals, and one other Black Cabinet member I can't recall offhand), but when do you see those Cabinet members on television talking about policy? I do have a definitive answer to that. NEVER. 

Yet, here we have Blacks questioning Barack's "Blackness". Why? Is it because he is articulate? Because he is Ivy League educated? Because he is the FIRST Black candidate who can actually APPEAL TO WHITE FOLK? I mean there is this thing called a GENERAL ELECTION and last time I checked Blacks made up roughly 12 to 14 percent of the population, so wouldn't it make sense for him to try to win over some White folks? I don't get it. 

Maybe it is that age-old symptom that Blacks just think that there will never be a BLACK PRESIDENT, so we just settle on a white man who we think ACTS like one. A white man we think that because he says all the right things on the campaign trail that he will actually do something substantive when he gets in office (again). Yeah, that's it. I'm sure of it. 

I just hope that Bill keeps going after Barack and in the end, Barack will use the force on Bill. At least, the force of a police baton to show Bill what it's really like to be Black in America. 

Life In The Parking Garage...

I get up every morning, head to class and park at this parking garage near campus. I got two beefs with the parking lot folk: (1) I pay $75 to park on the THIRD FLOOR of a FIVE STORY garage, because it's mandatory; (2) the security personnel always follow me when they see me in the garage. I guess it doesn't help to be a offensive lineman sized Black male. However, wouldn't you think I am not up to something when I have eighteen backpacks, laptop cases, and ONE THOUSAND law books? I mean even if I wanted to rob someone, I couldn't escape because you know I am not dropping those books or my laptop to get away from security. Plus, I am tired of those pint-sized white girls clutching their purses every time I get on the elevator. Between my textbooks, laptop, and other mandatory law school accessories (i.e., supplementary readings, iPod, 14 packs of No-Doz, etc.), I am probably worth more than a stinkin' purse. 

Other beefs with the parking garage--well not the garage, per se, but with the owners of Mini Coopers and other mini-whatevers. Can they start parking at the edge of the space so I can see that someone is actually parked in the space instead of having me think I have a good space, only to learn that an aluminum can with wheels is parked there instead? I mean these folk park these things as close to the front-end marker as they can. My typical reaction consists of the following: "F*#K!!!! STUPID A@@ MUTHAF@#K$ B@#%$...(insert additional expletives here)."

Alas, my wishes will probably never come true...such is life in the parking garage.