the fierce urgency of now

Quick update

noreply@blogger.com (the emo pitcher) — Thu, 11 Sep 2008 06:29:00 +0000

I know that I haven't posted much lately, but law school has been keeping me busy. It's much more like a full-time job than undergrad ever was. I leave my apartment in the morning and don't come home from the library until late evening. I'm not complaining, mind you. I'm having a lot of fun with my new crew.

Anyway, I've been planning on making a "first two weeks of law school in review" post for awhile now. I don't have class until 11 tomorrow, so maybe I'll work on that in the morning. Stay tuned.

Studio 4, Apartment 106

noreply@blogger.com (the emo pitcher) — Fri, 29 Aug 2008 07:40:00 +0000

So I've finally decorated my apartment enough that I feel comfortable showing it off here. All images can be viewed full-size with a clicky:

The entrance to the apartment. Note my Imelda Marcos-like hat collection. One can never have too many hats, I say. And these are just my baseball caps. My other hats are still at home to be brought up. I can't go to law school without a fedora, after all.

A close up of the entrance area. The table came with the place, but I'm not sure exactly what to do with it. Perhaps I could put more knick-knacks, but that may be too cluttery. For now, I've settled for the Ikea lamp and my digital picture frame (nice picture, Jack).

The view from the door. Instead of a table, the bar on the left serves as the eating surface. Not ideal, but I guess I don't really need a full dining table since I'm only one person (emo noise). At least the place came with stools. Now if I just had room for a small bar...

The kitchen. I don't know what I can really say about it, besides the fact that I didn't clean it before I took this photo. Yes, I'm that much of a neat freak. Take note, ladies. This should surely improve my market value in that regard. ;)

The candle on the counter should tell you what you already know: I'm Mexican.

Close-up view of the previous shot.

The living room area. The fan is a necessity since it's been incredibly hot (at least for the Bay Area) since I've been here. The high this weekend is supposed to be 100 degrees F. The Lakers banner is a placeholder--I except to put up an Angels 2008 Western Division Champions pennant once October rolls around. Calm down, Phil and Brandon, the Lakers banner stays, it just moves down the wall.

I was unsure whether to give Jack and Bobby their own wall and place them behind the couch. Seems like a waste of space, and I guess a California wall isn't too bad. Note my bass guitar behind the couch.

Speaking of the couch, if I had one complaint about the room, it's the fact that the couch situation is a bit awkward. The desk the room came with is pretty large, almost abnormally so. The desk actually sticks out into the space just in front of the right side of the couch. What's worse is I can't move the couch any more towards the kitchen without denying myself any room to sit at the bar behind it. Oh well.
My desk, with the requisite computer (set to Facebook, as always), TV, and PS2 (for The Show!) You can see my $741 law textbooks on the first shelf, along with the three most important books I own: Baseball Prospectus 2008, Ron Shandler's Baseball Forecaster, and the Bible. Note how large the desk is. It makes the ones in Governor's Corner look like the Dennis Kuciniches of desks. I also have my subwoofer and my printer underneath the desk (though only the subwoofer is really visible in this picture).

The always-present American flag behind my bed. I always keep that flag with me, no matter if I'm living at home or at school.

Yes, that's a spare mattress under my bed. That's actually the mattress the came with the room, but I was snotty enough to want to use my own mattress (one must sleep in comfort, after all). I should probably ask Housing to pick that up (mental note).

ALSO, THE LEAF IS BACK, MUTHAFUCKAS!

As you can see there's plenty of closet space, which I guess is wasted on me since I don't have too many clothes. One interesting quirk: the dresser is actually bolted to the closet floor. I had no intentions of moving it, but I find it pretty funny anyway. Were they afraid that someone was going to steal the dressers? I guess one inconvenience: because the dresser is stuck in the middle, you have minimal closet floor space alongside it. A better compromise would have been to put the dresser to one side of the closet to allow maximum roomage.

The bathroom. I know, so exciting. I plan on making the bathroom England-themed by filling it with mementos from my quarter abroad at Oxford. Unfortunately, I failed to think of this genius design idea while I was still at home, so I only have a handful of things to put on the walls. The Underground map and the Union Jack will have to do for now.

The toilet, presented without further comment.

I was actually a little disappointed with the room when I first walked in--I thought it was too small, smaller than I actually thought it was going to be, and I didn't have high hopes to begin with. But after living in it for a week, putting my own personal touch on it and seeing some of the other studios, I've come around on the size issue. It's a pretty decent sized room for one person.

Anyway, I'm not yet done decorating. I need more stuff to put on the corkboard (forgot to put more pictures I have up with me, actually). I need to decide exactly what to do with a leaf. I want to put a wall clock where the "Si Se Puede!" sign is now above my bookshelf. I need a new desk chair. A small table by the couch would also be desirable. I also want to buy an "Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind" poster to replace the "Hard Day's Night" poster next to my bed.

If any of you have design ideas, let me know, especially those of you who have already lived in your own apartment. One more thing: if any of you have pictures that I can put on my picture frame, drop me a line and send them to me!

Were you in this campaign just for me?

noreply@blogger.com (the emo pitcher) — Wed, 27 Aug 2008 08:01:00 +0000

A quick post for today: last night, Hillary Clinton gave a much-anticipated address to the Democratic National Convention. If you haven't seen it, here's the linkie:

Those of you who know me know that I've never had much affection for Hillary Clinton. I think she and her husband embody the permanent campaign that has laid waste to our politics. Bill was a decent president, and is often hailed as one of the great politicians of his generation. This assessment is largely true, but Bill's genius was in his tactical abilities rather than his strategic talents. His administration was incredibly adept at daily hand-to-hand combat with the Republicans, but lacking in its ability to piece together a coherent message that unified his presidency. It's not surprising that he was able to win reelection even while his party lost even more seats in the House two years after losing control of that body for the first time in decades.

Hillary has the same problem without many of Bill's positive attributes: the effusive charm, the innate talent for empathy, and gifts as a speaker. I think this explains why she lost the nomination to Obama: her campaign was incredibly proficient at negative campaigning, but she lacked the charisma to compensate. Like her husband, Hillary ran a tactics-first campaign that struggled from week to week to find a coherent message beyond the shininess of the Clinton brand.

That was my long-winded way of saying that I don't like Hillary. But back to the present.

Her convention address was certainly one of the best speeches I've seen her give. One of the little things I've noticed over the course of the past primary campaign was Hillary's evolution as a speaker. Initially Hillary was a bit wooden, a la Al Gore. She seemed to have no concept of gesturing, and her ability to vary her tone left something to be desired. Something I found especially grating was her inability to change her volume. She seemed to scream any line or phrase she wanted to emphasize. "That's why we need to send another Clinton to the White House" would become THAT'S WHY WE NEED TO SEND ANOTHER CLINTON TO THE WHITE HOUSE instead of "THAT'S why we NEED to send ANOTHER Clinton to the White HOUSE!" A good speech to watch as a reference is her speech to the 2004 Democratic National Convention.

While she still lacks the seemingly easy passion of her husband and the polish of Barack Obama's almost preacher-like cadence, she's become a pretty capable speaker in her own right. She understands the usefulness of the silent beat. She is screaming less and less. Her speechwriting is even improving (whether or not this is a kudos for her or a speechwriter is another matter). Gone are lame catch phrases like I'M IN IT TO WIN IT! In are pretty good lines like "Were you in this campaign just for me?"

So all in all an impressive performance. Whether or not this is going to persuade the remaining Hillary holdouts to devote their energies to Obama, a question asked countless times by pundits over the past few weeks, I do not know. But at the very least, I have seen Hillary's speechifying abilities improved greatly, which I am sure will be useful to her later political endeavors.

Why lawyers make a lot of money, or why I should have been a painter

noreply@blogger.com (the emo pitcher) — Tue, 26 Aug 2008 09:10:00 +0000

I spent a whole bunch of money yesterday. For the amount of cash culled from my bank account, you know what I could have gotten?

One of these, with enough cash left over to pay for three months worth of data service:

Two of these, and a few games to boot:
A guaranteed plane ticket to this idyllic destination:

Instead, what did I spend a small fortune on? Well, folks, it's these babies:
Yep, you're looking at $741 worth of law textbooks. I always knew that my textbook expenditures at SLS would dwarf anything I spent during undergrad, but the margin was more than I imagined. Before I got my reading list for my fall semester classes, I went to the bookstore on Saturday to try and scope out the law section to get a ballpark figure for the cost of books. I was surprised to see that most were reasonably priced, and by reasonably I mean less than $70. I shook my head, and mused that every law student I've heard complain about this problem was just exaggerating.

Reading list in hand, I went back to the bookstore on Monday to get my books before everyone
else did. Most people had yet to move in so I reasoned I had a shot of picking up the used books, which are sold at a decent discount. That pipe dream lasted long enough for me to find the first book on my list: Civil Procedure, Theory and Practice. $138. That's the upper limit of much I spent on textbooks per quarter back in the day. The used books were listed for much cheaper prices, but of course, none were available. After quickly scanning the rest of the books I had to buy, I estimated that the bottom line would be somewhere from $300 to $400.

Obviously my serious deficiency with numbers explains why I'm going to law school and not getting a Ph.D in math, because when the cashier read "seven hundred and forty one dollars," I remembered what it felt like to get shafted (figuratively of course). I suppose that I may keep these books for the rest of my lawyering days, that they could be handy reference guides for years to come. That doesn't make the cost any more palatable, though.

So, next time you wonder why lawyers make so much money, here is your answer: because it costs so much to become one. If lawyers made what service workers made, there'd be no reason to go to law school. There would be no lawyers. Some of you may think that would be an improvement, but ask yourself: who are you going to turn to next time you spill a scalding hot cup of McDonald's coffee on your lap? Are you going to sit there, take it, and apply ice to your genitals? No. You're going to lawsuit up, and take the Golden Arches to court. While your lawyer is before the judge explaining how the boiling coffee has done irreparable damage to your reproductive organs, and that this impairment has caused you great emotional turmoil, don't complain about how much you're paying him to represent you. Don't complain because he had to dole out a shitload of money just so he could get up there and represent your clumsy ass in the first place.

Schedules and Salads (but not necessarily in that order)

noreply@blogger.com (the emo pitcher) — Mon, 25 Aug 2008 08:58:00 +0000

After a year of general bumitude, there is nothing more jarring then receiving an email from Stanford Law informing me that my class schedule for the fall semester had been published. The worst part was the tone of the message--whoever wrote it made it sound as if this were a happy occurrence. It was not. I've gotten used to a lifestyle where the biggest decision of my day was what I was going to eat for lunch. Compared to hours in the library, choosing between Ted's and Tommy's seems like a happy dilemma (though I'll admit a less healthy one than I'd like).

As is usual with Stanford, anything that can be done easily, well, isn't. They provided us with two sites: one listing our course numbers and date/time, and another with the corresponding course names and professors. Why they couldn't provide all of that information on one grid is frustrating, but all too expected. So after a few minutes of putting everything together on iCal, this is what I got (click to see it full-sized):

What makes the first semester of law school different than any of the other constituent parts is that all classes are mandatory. The idea is to force everyone to take survey courses in the core subjects of the law every lawyer should be familiar with. I suppose the first semester is the crucible in which they intend to take our legally untrained minds and shape us into lawyers-in-training. As you can see, the core classes are Criminal Law, Contracts, Civil Procedure, Torts, and Legal Writing and Research. Criminal (or Crim), with its "Law and Order" appeal, sounds like it could be fun, and I could see Civil Procedure as potentially interesting. As for Torts, well, I definitely don't want to pursue it as a career, but at least the cases will be fun to read (imagine reading accounts of the stupid things people do everyday, and you have a torts case...I've read one involving a circus elephant pooping on a woman in the stands and whether or not the circus was liable for the emotional damage she suffered as a result). I also get a perverse pleasure out of assigning blame to people for their negligence. It appeals to the J in my ENFJ personality.

One of the cookie cutter, getting-to-know-you questions everyone asks one another at this embryonic stage of law school is, "What section are you in?" Like some high schools, there are certain sections of people who have the same schedule day in and day out. For whatever reason, your criminal law class determines which section you are assigned to. I have yet to meet anyone in my section, but I'm sure that'll change once more people move in. I'm in no rush--I'm sure I'll get to know those people pretty well anyway (I think it'd be impossible not to get to know one another after sharing five hours of class a day).

As for the difficulty of the schedule itself, I'm actually a bit relieved. I was convinced it would be much worse than this. I envisioned hours of lecture every day followed by even more hours reading at the law library. Shower, rinse, REMless nap, repeat. This isn't quite that bad. The good news is that there are no classes past 330 PM. Now, despite my propensity to avoid sleep, I actually prefer having classes in the morning so that I can get them over with, allowing me to veg out for the rest of the afternoon. I'm not looking forward to a 9:50 AM class (definitely the bad news) but at least the lunch break is pretty substantial, leaving more time than I had as an undergrad here. Apparently Stanford thinks that lunch should be long enough for you to either A) rush back to your dorm and eat fast enough to jet off to the next class or B) stand in line at UnionSquared for twenty minutes and scarf down your southwest chicken salad without tasting the rich yet tangy cilantro dressing.

Man, just mentioning that salad makes me hungry. Silly as it sounds, that salad was not a small part of my decision calculus between Stanford and Harvard. In college, the mere promise of that salad was enough to get me through the week. The song says everybody's working for the weekend, but not me. I was just trying to survive until Friday for the "dudes" lunch with my crew and the opportunity to enjoy that salad.

Speaking of which, Union Squared is open tomorrow. Is a southwest chicken salad in the cards? Or should I be frugal and have leftovers? Kinda funny--I'm at law school but without a meal plan, what to eat at lunch is still one of the most important decisions I make on a daily basis. Maybe this won't be as big a departure from the last fifteen months as I thought it'd be?

I'm back, and a preview of many bumper stickers:

noreply@blogger.com (the emo pitcher) — Sat, 23 Aug 2008 08:09:00 +0000

What I think about the choice of Biden is irrelevant. I'm mostly unhappy that I didn't get a text message, as promised, announcing the pick. I signed up like everyone else, and was waiting with bated breath to hear that distinctive *ding* on my Crackberry. Imagine how jealous I was when everyone on Kos was bragging about getting their (3 AM, of course) text message. Oh well.

A few weeks ago, I told an Obama phone banker that I would give another $25 to the campaign, so this seemed as good a night as any other to fulfill that promise. While I intended to make a donation this month anyway, I wanted to give this poor guy on the phone a positive result. I've been on the other end of phone banking, and let me tell you, it makes your day to finally get on the horn with someone who willing to help out. As it is, you're lucky not to get hung up on at least twice per day.

I can imagine that the Obama-Biden '08 bumper stickers are going to be on sale and on a car bumper near you any moment now. My dad asked if I wanted a new sticker, but I told him that I'm keeping the sticker I already have on my car. I've had it there since Obama announced back in January 2007, and retaining it is my way of declaring, "I'm not a bandwagoner, I could tell this guy was gonna make it way back when."

That doesn't mean that I won't be purchasing an Obama-Biden yard sign, though...

Edwards drops out

noreply@blogger.com (the emo pitcher) — Wed, 30 Jan 2008 19:20:00 +0000

From MSNBC:

Democrat John Edwards bowed out of the race for the White House on Wednesday, saying it was time to step aside “so that history can blaze its path” in a campaign now left to Hillary Rodham Clinton and Barack Obama.

I'm not sure what sort of an impact this has on the race. Of course Barack Obama seems like the natural safe haven for erstwhile Edwards supporters, but I've read arguments and seen statistics that seem to suggest that isn't true. It's an oversimplification to say that the Edwards people will gravitate towards the other "change" candidate--Edwards constituency was much more complicated than that. Many of them are populist-minded middle class and upper class folks who will probably lean towards Obama, but the working class folk who were attracted to Edward's promise to fight for their interests have proven to be Hillary supporters in the previous four primaries. I think that, barring an endorsement either way, Edwards supporters will break about even for the remaining two Democratic candidates.

What's interesting is that, in case of a brokered convention, Edwards may retain considerable "king-making" power. Though he's suspending his campaign, he is still on the ballot in many states, and will still gain delegates through Super Tuesday and beyond. If we don't have a nominee by the time the party rolls into Denver, Edwards may have enough delegates to effectively choose who the nominee will be.

I'm going to Santa Ana to the Orange Country Obama for President office. More on that later.

Tulo and Me

noreply@blogger.com (the emo pitcher) — Wed, 30 Jan 2008 07:16:00 +0000

A mancrush; if you follow sports long enough, follow it with enough devotion, you will eventually—whether or not you fight it—develop one.

If you don’t know what I mean, let me explain. Like most infatuations, a mancrush begins innocently enough. Mine did.

Last year, I played fantasy baseball for the first time. The shortstop I drafted, Khalil Greene of the Padres, was adequate but nothing more. Sure, he had plenty of power for a shortstop, but he couldn’t hit for average and wouldn’t know how to take a walk if a pitch hit him. I needed someone more promising, so I picked up rookie shortstop Troy Tulowitzki.

I was derided for picking him up. I was told that he was a waste of a roster spot, a prospect more likely to be fool’s gold than the real thing.

Then, a strange thing started to happen: he started to hit. I mean hit. He had never flashed any real power during his minor league career, but suddenly, during his first year in the show, baseballs began to fly high into the Denver night with regularity. Writers raved about his defense, his range and great throwing arm. He was praised for his field leadership, even at the young age of twenty-two. People were labeling him the next great shortstop, the next Cal Ripken. By October, he had hit twenty-nine home runs (a record for rookie shortstops) and led his team to a Cinderella run, winning the National League pennant. By then, he was no longer Troy Tulowitzki, shortstop for the Colorado Rockies. By then, he was simply “Tulo” to me. Every home run, every stolen base was more than a few more points for my fantasy team, it was like a personal victory.

I first realized I had a mancrush on Tulo during the World Series. I wasn’t watching the series because it promised to be particularly exciting. The Red Sox are a juggernaught, the best team in baseball, and everyone expected them to easily push past the insurgent Rockies. I was also loath to watch the Sox be the first team to repeat in the new millennium, especially since they had swept past my Angels in the first round. I was watching because I was excited that Tulo was playing in his first World Series.

At this point you may be wondering why Tulo was not merely one of my favorite players, why I had to use the rather extravagant term “mancrush.” The two are similar, I admit, but having a mancrush is much more than having a favorite player—the former is the logical end of the latter. It goes far beyond simply thinking that a player is “awesome” or “cool.” While the interest in a favorite player extends only to that player alone, the affection for a mancrush can spread to anything or everything connected to that player.

Before this past season, I could have cared less about the Rockies. My preferred team is in the American League West. I had, perhaps, a lingering interest in the Dodgers because they are LA’s other team, and because of their exciting core of young players. But after I found Tulo, I was actively rooting for the Rockies to win their one-game playoff against the Padres, for them to push past the Phillies and Diamondbacks. I’ve become interested in the team, and have become familiarized with it to the point where I could talk about them with almost as much fluency as I can the Angels. I know that the Rocks have a good offense (despite holes at catcher and second base), a logjam at third base with Garrett Atkins blocking Ian Stewart, and a need for better starters beyond Jeff Francis and Aaron Cook.

My friend Phil is another example; he has it pretty bad for Dwyane Wade of the Miami Heat. His second favorite team—after the Lakers, of course—is the Heat, mostly because of D-Wade. In 2006, he desperately hoped that the Heat would win the NBA championship (which they eventually did). He had been trying to get a Wade jersey for years before his brother finally got him one as a graduation gift. This may all seem quite normal except for the fact that Phil has virtually no connection to Miami. I don’t think he’s even ever been there, but that won’t matter so long as the Flash still plays for the Heat.

I’m not sure if mancrushes are as gender-specific as the name implies. I once read someone on an Angels blog wonder aloud if women were susceptible to something similar—if they could ever go so far as to wear shirts or jerseys that have another woman’s name (and uniform number) on them. Wouldn’t that be strange: little girls wearing Miley Cyrus or Vanessa Hudgins shirts instead of “Hannah Montana” or High School Musical. I’m not sure if this “mancrush gap” is due to the fact that men are generally more interested in sports than women, or that men’s sports (unfortunately) get more than their due share of attention than their female alternatives. Whatever the reason, I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone wearing a Mia Hamm or Lisa Sparks jersey.

And what ever happened to Tulo? Unfortunately, the Rockies’ fairytale lacked a happy ending, as they ran into the Red Sox buzzsaw like the Angels and Indians before them. Tulo had a less-than-stellar World Series, hitting for a line of 231/333/385. That didn’t matter to the Rockies, though. A week ago they signed Tulo to a six–year, thirty-one million dollar contract—the most ever for a player with only two years of service time. It certainly didn’t matter to me either. As I sit here, at a Starbucks in Laguna Beach with Michael Uy, I am (untentionally and coincidentally, I assure you) sitting here wearing my purple-and-black Troy Tulowitzki shirt. Thanks to the Rockies and the generosity they’ve shown their budding shortstop, I’ll be able to show off my mancrush for years to come.

Everyone has vices...

noreply@blogger.com (the emo pitcher) — Sun, 20 Jan 2008 21:37:00 +0000

...even assistant coaches on the Golden State Warriors. From Rotoworld:

After Matt Barnes was left off Saturday's game roster by assistant coach Keith Smart, coach Don Nelson attributed the mistake to the pay-per-view options at the team hotel.

"Keith Smart left him off because he was watching the adult movie channel and he should have been concentrating on drawing up the roster," Nelson said. "So we're going to take that privilege away from him for the rest of the year." Barnes was forced to watch the game on a TV in the locker room.

It's bad enough to have something like that revealed among your peers and friends, but throughout the whole Bay Area, and through Rotoworld, the whole country?

What? An inconclusive conclusion?

noreply@blogger.com (the emo pitcher) — Sun, 20 Jan 2008 00:43:00 +0000

While Sen. Obama lost the popular caucus vote to Hillary by about 5 points, apparently he won one more state delegate than the New York senator. It's a bit like losing the popular vote but winning the electoral college in November, prompting Chris Matthews to ask Tim Russert, "Well, then, who won Nevada?"

Despite my obvious Obama fanboyness, I'll have to admit that while Hillary won Nevada, this is a welcome development. It means that the race is still close, and Barack still has something of a fighting chance assuming he can blunt Hillary's momentum in South Carolina.

A long way to go

noreply@blogger.com (the emo pitcher) — Sun, 20 Jan 2008 00:29:00 +0000

One of the hopes behind the Obama candidacy is that he can help put aside the concerns of identity politics--that politics can finally be about character and ideas instead of skin color or gender. But a trend that began in New Hampshire seems to have continued in Nevada:

Entrance polls indicated Democrats were split along ethnic, racial and generational lines. But women made up nearly 60 percent of those taking part in Saturday's contest, and the New York senator and former first lady led her top rival, Illinois Sen. Barack Obama, by a margin of 52 percent to 35 percent among those voters.

For the life of me, I can't understand this. There are a myriad of reasons why someone can support a candidate, but I don't understand how gender or race could be one of them. I'm not trying to imply that all of the women who voted for Hillary did it just because she is a woman, but certainly some of them did.

If anything this shows how much more work we have to do before we will realize Dr. King's vision of judging people not by the color of their skin (or their chromosome count) but by the content of their character.

I am a political junkie

noreply@blogger.com (the emo pitcher) — Sat, 19 Jan 2008 18:23:00 +0000

Last night, I was turning on my TV, and before a picture was actually visible I knew that Tucker Carlson was talking just by the sound of his voice. Something is wrong with me.

Purpose

noreply@blogger.com (the emo pitcher) — Fri, 18 Jan 2008 04:32:00 +0000

As much as I don’t like the idea of “about” sections on websites, I’m a firm believer that everything must have a purpose, thus so must this blog.

Most of you who read this already know me, so I won’t waste your time with personal introductions. If you don’t know me and were somehow misled or convinced to make your way here, feel free to browse.

Here goes nothing.

I’ve had several aborted attempts at blogging, and if you looked hard enough you could find the wreckage of those failures. I’m still not sure why I’ve been unable to keep at it. It’s not that I don’t have anything to say—though I’ll admit that I’m not sure I have anything interesting to say. I think, I think I even over-think. I often stay up late at night, hours after I’ve gotten into bed, sitting there thinking. It’s not an enjoyable process. I’ve lately taken to listening to my iPod to try and silence the thoughts. I may be infamous for my owl-like hours, but even I need sleep occasionally. I think writing on this blog, finding some outlet for those thoughts, may help me. So think of this blog as therapy for me as much as anything else.

Perhaps the problem is the medium. As the old communications adage goes, “the medium is the message.” I think the real problem may be that I’m too much of a perfectionist when it comes to my writing. Any thoughts that could travel from my head to other people (without excessively offending someone) requires such a rigorous filtering process that it takes forever for me to write even a few paragraphs I think are presentable. Eventually I get so tired and frustrated with the amount of time it takes to produce something that I give up altogether.

That, to me, is simply not acceptable. I don’t know myself all that well, but I do know that I need to write. I need to. In my personal statement for my law school applications, I wrote that “I love writing, but I love it the way you love a hobby, not the way you love your life’s calling.” While that may be true, it does nothing to diminish the fact that it is an important part of my life. I need to write to keep myself human. I will probably end up in law and politics in my career, two fields notable for their propensity to dehumanize people. The last thing I want is to be some drone filing temporary restraining orders or mindlessly spouting talking points to another talking head. Those things may one day be the prose in my life, but I need some poetry, too.

Not that I think I’m a particularly great writer or that the world somehow deserves to be blessed with my brilliancy. I only think I’m borderline brilliant. I’m at most a decent writer who has yet to really find his voice (for what it’s worth, it seems to be one part snarky and two parts emo). If what they say is true—that most of talent is practice—well, I could use the practice. The only way I’m going to be a better writer is to keep writing.

So I guess this blog is more for me than it is for the people who read it. If somehow what I say interests you, then welcome aboard. If not, well, you know what do with yourself.

A year later, and we're hovering

noreply@blogger.com (the emo pitcher) — Wed, 09 Jan 2008 06:07:00 +0000

The last time I posted, this blog had a different name, I was still in school, and Barack Obama had just announced his candidacy for the presidency.

My, how things have changed.

Tonight's Iowa shocker is another example of that old political truism: "a year is an eternity in politics." As recently as a month ago, Obama seemed to be little more than a footnote on Hillary's historical march towards the nomination. Then he took Iowa by storm, and for a moment--sadly, just a moment--looked like he was going to be the movement candidate whose victories finally matched the enthusiasm.

Another truism: just as you should never start a land war in Asia, you should never underestimate the Clintons.

I wish I had something terribly insightful to say, but it's going to take some time (read: days) for me to recover. Barack Obama is a once-in-a-generation candidate who has the potential to transform American politics in a way that hasn't been done since 1932. The prospect of losing that chance to the machinations of the entrenched, bloated Clinton machine is a bit depressing to say the least.

In the meantime, I'm going to watch Sweeney Todd.

the last and greatest hope for the democratic party:

noreply@blogger.com (the emo pitcher) — Sat, 10 Feb 2007 23:21:00 +0000

I need a title

noreply@blogger.com (the emo pitcher) — Fri, 05 Jan 2007 08:34:00 +0000

If you watch the special features on the DVD for Almost Famous, writer/director/man holding a boombox in the rain Cameron Crowe mentions that each month during his days as a Rolling Stone writer he would make a mixed tape of the music he was listening to. He said that the tapes are as good as a diary—even now, decades later, the music can return him to the thoughts and events associated with the music.

I know what Crowe means. Whenever I hear that cover of “The Art of Dying,” I remember the blunt heat of Italy and the hours spent on riding on TrenItalia. “My Sweet Lord” brings me back to my hip replacement surgery. I realize that those are both George Harrison songs, but my musical library is not limited to the Beatles and their post-Fab careers. Hearing “The Reason” or “Palo Alto” reminds me of my favorite quarter of college—spring quarter of freshman year—with all of the dizzying possibilities and charged air.

Where the Crowe leads, I will follow, so in November I decided to make my own mixed CDs—the more advanced media a sign of the times. At least I can’t accidentally rip the film out of the CDs, though I suppose I could always scratch them if a particular month rubs me the wrong way.

The CDs I've made so far—

November 2006:
1. Theme from Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind
2. Travis – Good Feeling
3. Travis – Writing to Reach You
4. Death Cab for Cutie - Tiny Vessels
5. Doves – There Goes the Fear
6. Postal Service – Be Still My Heart
7. Beck - Everybody’s Gotta Learn Sometime
8. The Beatles – Maxwell’s Silver Hammer
9. Radiohead – Wolf at the Door
10. Muse – Butterflies and Hurricanes (Paco Version – shut up, Jack and Steven)

December 2006:
1. Rudy Soundtrack – Tryouts
2. Travis – U16 Girls
3. The Beatles – Strawberry Fields Forever (from “Love”)
4. The Killers – Mr. Brightside
5. Travis – All I Want to Do is Rock
6. The Beatles – Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds (again from “Love”)
7. The National – The Geese of Beverly Road
8. The Beatles – While My Guitar Gently Weeps (can you tell that I really enjoyed “Love”?)
9. Blink 182 – What’s My Age Again
10. The Beatles – Hey Jude (no surprise, it’s from “Love”—that bass solo is awesome)

Anyone else ever thought of doing this?

Giants sign Planet Zito, $126 mil/7 yr deal

noreply@blogger.com (the emo pitcher) — Fri, 29 Dec 2006 01:17:00 +0000

If I were a sought-after major league baseball free agent deciding which club to sign with, there would be four factors to consider:

1. Contract quality (how many years, how much money, club/player options, no-trade clauses, incentives)

2. Club's potency and likelihood of making the playoffs

3. Location

4. Existing relationships with other players or management staff

Today, the San Francisco Giants signed Barry Zito and his loopalicious curveball to a 7-year, $126 million contract. If you are Zito, here is how those factors line up with the Giants:

1. Incredibly, friggingly awesome. He gets amazing job security with 7-years and a full no-trade clause, and becomes the highest-paid pitcher in the history of the game. Even if he begins to decline (a likely prospect) it is Zito and Zito alone who will determine if he remains in Halloween colors.

2. Iffy. While the NL West is no longer the worst division in baseball (that honor belongs to the Senior Circuit's Central Division), it remains decidedly weak. The top three teams in the division (the Dodgers, Padres and Giants) have all made their share of moves this offseason. The Rockies and Diamondbacks have yet to make the drastic roster changes they require to be legitimate playoff contenders.

However, out of those three teams, you have to see the division as a race between the Dodgers and the Padres. Those two teams have either stayed the course (the Dodgers) or made marginal improvements (the Padres). Those two teams ended the 2006 season tied, and while the Giants found themselves 11.5 games behind Los Angeles and San Diego. The Giants have about broke even this offseason--they lost a good pitcher in Jason Schmidt, but gained another (albeit one who is lung-tighteningly expensive) in Barry Zito. They resigned the “other” Barry in baseball, keeping the steroid-enhanced cap on their bottled elixir of veteran ineptitude in place.

3. After spending six years in Oakland, Zito is already familiar with the frigid and moist Bay Area, and does not have to find a new place to live. He reportedly enjoys living in a large city, and while San Francisco is not the first- or second-largest media market in the country, it likely provides the glitz and glamour the quirky Zito desires.

4. None that I know of.

With that in mind, it appears that Zito’s priorities fell in the following order:

1, 3, 2, 4.

If winning a World Series were his primary priority, he would have signed with the Mets or my Angels. The Mets made it to the ALCS last year, and the Angels have a decent shot of making up for the embarrassing second-place finish of last season. The Texas Rangers, while an improved club, still lack the pitching to seriously contend in the AL West. Seattle? They won’t have a shot at the division while GM Bill Bavasi continues to shatter the hopes and dreams of M’s fans.

Location would have been a wash—the Mets (it’s New York, duh) and Angels (Zito is from Southern California and his family still lives here) are as attractive as the Giants in that regard. This was the Texas Rangers’ greatest drawback—Arlington? I’m sorry. Seattle would have been a decent city for Zito to live and find his spiritual center. It worked for Kurt Cobain.

So it his eventual choice is any indication, Barry Zito cares most about location and money. While his addition to the San Francisco rotation makes that club more potent, it is unlikely that they’ll make another run for the World Series in the near future.

a quandry

noreply@blogger.com (the emo pitcher) — Wed, 27 Dec 2006 22:54:00 +0000

If you asked me if I'd rather have the Angels win the World Series or have a Democrat elected to the presidency, I'd have to think about it for a second.

If the Democrat were Hillary Clinton, get your rally monkeys ready.

What does this say about me?

from the latest story

noreply@blogger.com (the emo pitcher) — Mon, 25 Dec 2006 21:39:00 +0000

Socks turned to the next page in his calculus book, gripping a mechanical pencil in his other hand. The fundamental theorem of calculus, it told him, states that the two central operations of calculus, integration and differentiation, are inverse operations. His eyelids grew heavy as he flew past these lines of text in fifties-era typeface. Per his father’s orders, he had been studying in his room for hours, and his heart sank as he looked out the window and saw the sun begin to straddle the distant horizon with a pastel glow. The time on his watch indicated it was just about time for the weekly ballgame at the sandlot, and at school he had promised Johnny that he would pitch that day. He closed the textbook, keeping his page with a legal pad filled with equations, and went to his father’s study downstairs.

His father’s angled face was partially hidden behind a pile of faded books resting on his desk. “Yes, Socrates. What do you want?”

“Well, um, I’ve been studying for awhile now, and I wanted to know if I could take a short break from my studies. Maybe walk to the creek to study the effects of small rocks and other obstructions on water flow.”

“Really? When did you gain an interest in such things?” His father stood, searching for a book among the dozens in the behemoth of a bookshelf behind him. “I suppose you may want to read this on the way. It may have some relevance to your task.” He turned back to his son, his eyes flashing in sudden comprehension. “Wait. I can predict your motives with some accuracy. You want to play that damned game again, don’t you?”

Socks sighed. There was no use hiding what he wanted from his father now. “Father, we’re playing the guys from Front Street, and I—”

“Enough, Socrates. A boy blessed with your talents shan’t waste his time with such infantile pursuits.”

“But, Father—”

His father stood up from behind his desk, and the color in his cheeks rose as he raised his voice fiercely. “In this house, my word is final, and I say no. Go back to your room and continue your studies. Don’t back come down until you reach the section on differential equations.”

Socks huffed and puffed his way up the stairs as a dark gloom set over him. He opened the page of his calculus book in resignation. If a continuous function is integrated and then differentiated, the original function will be retrieved. He could no longer concentrate on tedious things like math and physics; only his pitch selection preoccupied his thoughts: fastball inside, low curve, finish him off with a changeup outside the zone. His mind was so agile that he could easily stand on the mound and rush back and finish the work his father demanded of him. He grabbed a faded baseball glove from beneath his bed, and lowered from his window a rope of bed sheets that he kept hidden in his closet. Staying inside with dusty textbooks—while the wide world waited outside—was no way for a ten year-old boy to spend his days.

the schedules among us

noreply@blogger.com (the emo pitcher) — Sun, 24 Dec 2006 11:34:00 +0000

Not to be too post-happy, lest I look like Britney Spears at a Vegas drive-through wedding chapel, but my schedule for next quarter looks pretty sweet:

M: Poetry and Prose in Conversation, 315-505
T:
W: Poetry and Prose in Conversation, 315-505
Th: Term Limits in American Democracy, 315-505
F:

The rest of my units will be occupied by my thesis, which may or may not be finished by the end of the quarter (someone please send some good vibes and good luck charms my way). It won't be an easy quarter though, as that thesis deadline is starting to look larger and larger in my rear view mirror.

Obama-rama and others

noreply@blogger.com (the emo pitcher) — Sun, 24 Dec 2006 10:55:00 +0000

Robert Novak, he of the sharp-tongued right, is reporting that Barack Obama has all but decided to run for president:

Contrary to reports that Barack Obama is still trying to make up his mind whether to seek the 2008 Democratic presidential nomination, sources close to the first-term senator say he is unequivocally committed to making the race.

The word has spread through political circles that Obama's wife, Michelle, is resisting the campaign out of fear for her husband's physical safety as an African-American candidate for president. But an Obama insider dismissed that as a problem. "We took care of that last summer," he told this column.

Would it be too presumptuous to say that the senator has shades of 24's David Palmer? An African-American senator running for president? Fear for his safety because of his race? Hopefully Jack Bauer isn't needed in this universe.

Much much more to say on Obama in the future, I'm sure.

In other news, Juan Rivera, the likely starting left fielder for the Angels, has broken his left tibia playing winter ball in Venezuela. I don't know what to say. I think this is badbadbadbadbadbad. Hopefully this is an incentive for Stoneman to bite the bullet, sign Barry Zito and trade Santana or Saunders for a bat.

Merry Christmas (and Happy Holidays), everyone.

network interactivity in the new world

noreply@blogger.com (the emo pitcher) — Fri, 22 Dec 2006 10:51:00 +0000

A few months ago when the media sensation caused by Senator Ted Stevens's (R-AL) gaffe on the floor (in which he called the internet a "set of tubes") caught fire on YouTube, Jon Stewart joked on "The Daily Show" that he thought this internet thing was "a keeper." The audience's laughter was an acknowledgment of both Stewart's sarcasm and the reality that the internet has become an irreplaceable part of American life.

While Stewart and his Comedy Central bosom buddy, Stephen Colbert (he of the famous Report, pronounced like "rapport") have gotten a lot of press recently about their nimbleness on the web--Colbert's green screen challenge even got George Lucas involved--network television cannot be counted out from adaption.

A few weeks ago, in a sketch creating faux college mascots, Conan O'Brien (a giant among men--literally and figuratively) suggested that Florida State University's new mascot should be the "Webcam Manatee." As is Late Night's usual MO, cue the cut to a man in a manatee costume and a webcam. I'll let Conan express the rest:

first post

noreply@blogger.com (the emo pitcher) — Wed, 20 Dec 2006 23:53:00 +0000

dig it.