Because that's about what it is. Although it's been nearer two months since I've actually posted. Fail. So... what's happened to me since early may.
Finals. They happened. They were unpleasant in the doing, and pleasant in the aftermath.
Fight Club (that is, the writing competition, the first rule of which is you DON'T talk about fight club). It also happened. Immediately after finals. There was a four day span in which I did not leave my apartment. I managed to distill ~500 pages of legal sources into 8 pages of analysis, having read every goddamn source they provided us with. In a perverse way, it was rather fun, except that the subject was... less than perfectly interesting and the deadline was somewhat ridiculous. So, that was Fight Club.
Immediately following Fight Club (well, that's not true: I turned my submission in a day early, and didn't start working until the following monday) I started working for my two profs--Epstein and D'Amato. D'Amato initially wasn't sure I was even working for him, and then suggested I talk to him again around... July. Then I talked to Epstein, who set me to work coding case sets for her empirical research. That afternoon, D'Amato called me up with a time-sensitive thing, which turned out to not be quite so time sensitive and erupted into a suit against a foreign republic for breach of contract which is all sorts of fascinating and relatively confidential. Those have both continued, and are still how I am gainfully employed. Not terribly glamorous (mostly cuz I can't talk much about D'Amato's project), but hey. It's money, which means that I can, among other things, pay rent and eat.
There's been dancing. You know, as happens. There's also been reading of books, as also happens.
I went to Minneapolis for Carleton's graduation, which was largely an excuse to visit folks up there. It was lovely. There was more Carnivale, there was gaming, there was watching Russell play WoW and poking around with that. I was declared the alpha geek of Pechous gaming store, due to dinner with George Takei and Skyping into gaming. There was a fair amount of hanging out with people, and leaving my phone charger at Russell's (there was also setting up my bed--futon--in Russell's new place). Graduation proper was lovely, and featured the requisite dancing (thanks, Grace!), and catching up with lots of random people and profs (yes, profs are people, but they're a separate category), and poking at the graduates I knew (I came for three people, but ended up seeing a rather few more).
Then I got home from MPLS (yay for eight hour bus rides to read books and a several inch stack of law reviews), and promptly got death (Russell did too, and we decided to blame Max, even if it's not his fault). Bergy rocked my world by bringing me dinner and a few groceries for general survival that first night of death. Three days later (that's approximately the right time frame for these things, according to the bible), I returned to the living, just in time to go to Morgan's lake house for a weekend of water and company and alcohol. Although none of that last for me, as I was still attempting to hack up a lung, and possibly bits of other internal organs. There was kayaking and a boat and swimming and... lots of couples. Morgan and I were the men, and the singles. It was... interesting.
Last monday there was more dancing, notable because I finally got a crew of law students (Pasquesi & fiancee, Michelle, Bergy, Mal, Morgan, me) to go up to Charlie's. Crystal spent most of the line dance lesson cracking on lawyers--she was disappointed this week because no one came, and she had a REALLY AWFUL gay lawyer joke she'd learned just for our benefit. Josh was a good sport, and Stina (the two-step instructor) asked whether he was family--his confused look was a good answer.
Somewhere in there, I wrote some. I worked a bit more on my pages and pages of backstory for Paul Twiceborn (gaming character for changeling), and wrote a story for I'm From Driftwood--a blog that collects true stories from gay people, often about coming out or relationships and whatnot. It got published. The link is here: http://www.imfromdriftwood.com/2009/06/17/im-from-kentfield-ca/ I should write more, because I've had no progress on The Alchemy of Eternity within the last several months, but... I don't know how likely that is for the next while. Concentrating mostly on Paul's story. Once it's done, I'll probably find some way to put it up for your enjoyment.
Buffy has continued apace, for better or for worse. I ended up talking to Dave Diamond--my career advisor--for about ten minutes about it yesterday, because whenever he and I meet, it's usually about 25% substance and 75% fun conversation, often about queer issues. But I'm getting ahead of myself. This past weekend was Pride, and (due to being out of town for a Carleton graduation last year, and having mono the year before) was my first Pride. We (NUSL OUTLaw and Romeo) marched in the parade, which had the advantage of personal space, and therefore access to the breeze, which was lovely. We marched with folks from the ISBA (IL State Bar Association), and were the only law school to have gotten organized enough to actually march in the parade. Morgan got two marriage proposals, there were many shouts of 'I LOVE gay lawyers!' (only in the gay community, I'm convinced, is this attitude toward lawyers quite so), there was much ass-slappery/grabbery, and only the backs of my calves got sunburned--rectangularly, because we marched straight away from the sun for several hours, and I forgot to put sunblock on that area (yay for Neutragena's post-fuck-uppery-in-the-sun lotion, the application and magic of which meant I could survive jeans yesterday, and therefore go dancing).
The only other real news is that there was some then-significant drama over classes with the result that I have dropped into BA (Business Associations), and am not in Negotiation. This means I have a more agreeable class schedule and a lot more friends to be in class with. That's pretty much all I have at the moment. If you want more details, poke at me in person--that's kinda the general rule.
I leave you, as with most of the time, with a quote:
"Any golfer who has watched his partner shank a short approach knows, it would be absurd to accept the suggestion that the resultant four-letter word uttered on the golf course describes sex or excrement and is therefore indecent." ~Justice Stevens, dissenting in F.C.C. v. Fox Television Stations, Inc. (Docket No. 07-582)
