The Obligatory Internet Rant

"You know what Stewie? If you don't like it, go complain on the Internet."
--Brian the Dog, Family Guy

Allow me to put one of my favorite one-liners to literal use. The day has been long. My mood is foul. My nose is currently running at half capacity, as my allergies have decided to drop by for an extended visit. As such, the day has been filled with hacks, coughs, and the kinds of sounds that a horse usually makes when it sneezes.
Normally, this does not get me down. If anything, the allergy meds make me extraordinarily entertaining if you mix a little caffeine in there. I can be the life of a party if you hand me a Coke and a couple Claritin-D. But today was different. Today was a bad day.
I usually dive into things when I really want them. The upshot of this, of course, is that my learning curve in such endeavors is about as gradual as that cliff that the roadrunner always gets the coyote to fall off of. I hit a lot of branches on the way down, too. Eventually, though, everything settles out and I wind up doing well. My mission only got better as time went on, the second semester of law school was markedly better than the first. My mistakes gradually tapered off after I started working at Finale. Good ol' Father Time has been my savior in this sense, as I imagine he is for everyone, save those few maddening prodigies who look at something for 2 seconds and then proceed to do it perfectly. Given time, I can pretty much do anything I set my mind to.
Even with this in mind, however, the learning curve doesn't get any less painful. There's always the lingering doubt in the back of my mind that wonders if this time things will never get better, that this time I've bitten off more than I can chew and I'm just not cut out for what I'm doing. This time, after hitting all those branches on the way down, I'll hit the ground and immediately get crushed by the 10-ton Acme anvil that fell off the cliff with me.
I've always wanted to be a criminal attorney. I was going to be a prosecutor, I just knew it. Nothing was going to stop me. It was a foregone conclusion. The law was my muse. And then I came to work at CPCS.
Oh sure, I can do a client interview, I could even do client intake if I had to. I've found homeless clients in the middle of the city, and batted legal theories around with people years ahead of me. But my reasoning and my arguments, more often than not, suck. I know I've only taken one very broad criminal course up to now. But for whatever reason I felt like I should be able to come to the same conclusions my bosses come to when we do motions or look at cases, despite my lack of experience. This morning my boss wanted me to look over a case before a motion to amend hearing. I had maybe 20 minutes to do so. I told him I didn't think the case applied to our situation because of some differences in the fact pattern. And after 5 minutes of looking at this case the guy says no, it totally applies, and yanks out this crazy inference, and I had no idea where he was getting it from until I heard him argue it. And it makes total sense. Oh sure, I wasn't as familiar as he was with our present client's situation; I don't know the nuances of a criminal proceeding like he does, and where and how to poke holes in an argument. Maybe if I did things would have been different. But I don't know that for a fact. I could just be an idiot. As it stood, I walked out of court feeling very out of place in a hall of law.
I went back and looked over some past memos I had written up. Admittedly, they were hastily thrown together at the behest of an attorney who didn't want a formal memo so much as a quick overview of the law. But I still looked it over and saw problems with organization and clarity, and it pissed me off even more. Then I looked at the present assignment I had to do. Like most assignments at this office, there's very little (read: no) case law expressing a clear answer to the question at hand. I absolutely did not feel up to the task. I knew I was just going to mess it up again. I was abjectly demoralized. Fortunately, I spent the rest of the day on a field trip to the house of corrections to visit a client, so I could avoid the problem for the rest of the day.
You might say I'm being too hard on myself, and the thing is, you'd probably be right. I inflict a lot of this mental punishment myself. I'm extremely hard on myself, expecting miracles while at the same time exacting very little from those around me. I suppose it's better than being the opposite, but it still makes those branches I hit on the way down sting a lot more than they probably should, by all rights.
The most frustrating part is that I know all of this. If this were someone else, I'd absolutely tell myself to chill out, calm down, it'll all be fine, you're still learning and you will be for a while. Yet I can't follow my own advice. For whatever reason, I expect to be perfect when I'm not, and I won't be for a long time, if ever. And so, I wind up at the end of the day feeling like a failure, like this time, I'm in over my head.
Only now, the thing I'm struggling most with is my lifelong dream. The inevitable what if questions arise. What if I've been mistaken all along? What if I can't do what I've always wanted to? Throw in the fact that an ADA makes about as much as a McDonald's manager (quite literally) and a change in goals seems altogether necessary and devastating.
I've heard it all before. The things we want most take the most effort, it's always darkest before the dawn, etc. etc. I've said all these things to others. Yet they offer no consolation in this instance. Only the slight spark to trudge onward. Does that make me a hypocrite? I hope not. I sincerely believe in the veracity of those maxims in the lives of everyday people. Yet for whatever reason I won't let myself accept them, as much as I want to.
I've always said that my view of the universe and the grand scheme of things is what keeps me going. And it's true, even in times like this where I just want it all to go away. No matter what, I keep going. But it doesn't make those branches hurt any less.

Whap!

Whap!

Whap!

Top Ten Reasons I Love the Public Defender's Office

So, when I got the offer to work at the Public Defender's I took it, mostly because it was the first place that offered me a position. When I got the invite to interview with the State office, I was, of course, kicking myself for having taken the job. But, as it turns out, I love this place. And here's why, in no particular order:

1. Strict 9-5. And by strict I mean, "come in at 9, leave whenever you want."



2. Most interns spend their days buried in paperwork, writing memos about dreary legal theories (see: the awe-inspiring "mailbox rule" or "adverse possession). I interview clients in jail. Ooo-rah.



3. Eating Herrera's on the Common. Best Mexican in the city, says this Texan.



4. Some people just think cops are jerks. We prove it.



5. I've gotten a crash course in Evidence before taking the actual class. If I don't get an A in that course now, it'll be a massive disappointment.



6. Actually using my Spanish.



7. The greasy-spoon pizza joint 3 doors down.



8. Traipsing around downtown looking for a homeless man to tell him to be in court the next day.



9. Going back to the same place to find said homeless man when he doesn't show up to court.



10. If I liked criminal law before, I love it now. This place is awesome.