Jury selection happened today in the probate court. From the Old French, "truth" and "to speak," "voir dire" is an exciting time! Watching people and giving them a forum for opinion always has an interest result. Here is a list of my favorite quotes from today:

"Frankly, I don't care what happens to these people. At the end of the day, both parties walk away rich. I have no interest in hearing these people squabbling over money."

"UUUGGH!"

"I no speak English."

"I've already paid for a vacation. Being here watching these people while I miss my vacation will PISS me off."

"I've been selected for teacher training that will impact my income for the next year. I will literally cry if I get called for jury duty."

"I make pipe organs."

"English is a second language for me."

Each of the lawyers had distinct and discernible jury-selecting strategies. It was all very instructive. During one of the breaks, one of the plaintiff's lawyers had a chance to talk to us interns. He said that jury selections are perhaps the most critical thing they do, but the least capable of control. It seemed true today. Both parties are angling for a jury that is biased in their favor; they'll settle for fair jury. It's hard to tell what they got.

I think the case is decided before the evidence is heard. That is, the fate of the case is determined before the matter is tried. But neither party knows what the result will be. As that information becomes known during the course of the trial, there is a better alignment of expectations and a greater chance for settlement. But, I'd rather there be no settlement a'cause that'll give me a better chance to observe what a trial is like.

All in all, today was a good day in the Dallas County Probate courts...for me at least. Not so much for the defendants.

There's something relaxing or comforting about simply hearing another human breathe.

There's a rhythm to breath. It's so natural that we forget we're doing it. But when we focus on it, that simple act is calming. It brings us together and sets us collectively apart.

While people will often take things (food, clothes, toys, mates, etc.) for themselves to the exclusion of others, air is different. It's not practically excludable and only temporarily rival. Air is weird because it flows: I take it in and breathe it out, and then another person can take in the exact same air and do the same thing. The same matter that was in me could also be in you. It's kind of gross, but in that way, breath unites all breathing things--and not just because it's a feature of living necessities. Rather, the unity lies in the fact that we take in, breathe out, and generally share a same essence.

And of course, this blog wouldn't be complete without the etymological side note: a long time ago and for a long time, (circa Proto-Indo European), "breath" and "smell" (nouns) were the same word as were their verbs. I typically prefer not to associate smells with breath, but I've certainly had the smelly-breath experience. I'm glad that hygeine has improved to the point that respiration can be phonetically distinct from odors.

The last several times I've been in a library, things have been quiet enough that I can hear the other people around me just breathing. It's a great reminder that, while I'm intensely focused on what I'm doing, there is life around me. Other people...also working. There's a connection...even if silent and uncommunicated...even unacknowledged.

Quand j’étais petit, je ne voulais pas être pompier ou policier. I didn’t idolize the professions that depend on strength and bravery. I had a tremendous respect and appreciation for them, mais je savais que cette catégorie d’emploi n’était pas pour moi. Instead, I longed to be un artiste.

Je voulais dessiner des œuvres  qui adornaient les murs de grands halls des musées. The beauty of my work would make people contemplate what was happening around them de nouveau.

Quelques fois je mentionne ici sur Xanga que j’aime l’esthétique. For me, beauty doesn’t just rest in the eye of the beholder ; avant d’être« belle », une chose doit être créée, formée, contemplée avec l’intention qu’elle deviendra belle. C'est à dire que, beauty is in the mind of the maker as much as in the eye of the beholder…même si la conception et le ressentiment ne sont pas assortis.

I’ve always liked things to be put away and orderly. There’s a simple elegance to tidiness. Later I learned that a few misplaced items créent un sens d’interêt…it can bring you in and keep you there. But, too much and it’s like walking into a tiny room with a rock concert, a parade of official vehicles blaring their sirens, and an army of hungry, screaming babies—all filling the air with the concussive,cacophonous force of sound at the same time. Ça fait trop.

Selon mon avis, il y a une tension entre l’ordre et le intéressant (I don’t want to say « chaos »). Beauty finds the equilibrium. Too much order makes things boring and feeble. Trop d’intérêt est écrassant.

Ilearned this lesson fairly early in life. I’ve struggled with it. C’est une grande idée...avec beaucoup d’aspects. For me, finding the good in life =trouver la beauté = finding the right balance.

Je suis reconnaissant de la courage et l’attachement que les policiers et les pompiers ont pour leur travails. I deeply admire the desire to help others. Même plus, j’admire la beauté. Conséquemment, j’admire les streetwalkers, the homeless, et les criminels quelques fois.They have an important role; they tell more about the society than social structure itself. Ils fonctionnent comme un miroir qui révèle les profondeurs que le monde superficiel ne montre pas. They prove a harmonious tension.

Car, tout ensemble, chacun fait le monde just a little bit more beautiful. Together we compose un chef d’œuvre.

Hmmm...the lessons we take from childhood have a delightful complexity, n'est-ce pas?

My favorite part of this weekend was when my older, deaf, monolingual brother attempted to explain to me the differences between European and Latin American Spanish. HAH! A later conversation ended up with him explaining to me which documents a court would admit to probate/construe as a will. Double HAH!

My grandfather (ever full of crotchety, practical wisdom) once told me: "The only fool bigger than the one who thinks he knows it all is the one who tries to argue with him." I have been that fool. I keep hoping that someday older bro' will realize that there are certain topics he should not attempt to know in greater depth than I do. To that end, I ask questions about why he has formed certain opinions--even though he has no reasons for them--and then explain why he's wrong. I'm trying not to argue...but he needs to know that talking out of your ass is bothersome to many people, right?

"That's incorrect. There's no such thing as a universal 'European' dialect because they speak different languages across Europe. In Spain, they do a lisp thing with c and z before e or i and use the form "vosotros." Those are the primary differences."

"A 'letter of intent' is not a thing in the will context. And whoever is the designated beneficiary of your life insurance will get it free and clear of any instructions you left in a 'letter of intent.'"

How do you handle that one relative in your family who just doesn't get it? It reminds me of drunk uncle:

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While not typically incendiary with the substance of the conversation, the presumption of knowing something better than me (even though all of our history together would clearly contra-indicate the presumption) is upsetting. It's like there's: (1) no memory or depth of our relationship; or (2) any respect for my knowledge of a particular field. When it comes to language and phonetics, I know stuff (yes, even more than this guy); I speak three languages and spend free time just acquiring linguistic knowledge--not to mention the formal education I received in my foreign-language classes. And, I'm currently interning with a probate court judge, so I think I have a better sense of the effect a certain kind of document would have as a testamentary disposition.

BAH! It's just kind of frustrating.

How do you handle family members who belittle your expertise? How do you try to ween them from their annoying habits for their own good?

This title is really funny if: (1) you know that partial performance is a thing; and (2) you know that this phase of the research topic is partial performance in contracts for the transfer of real property. Alas, why must I always resort, to arcane, inaccessible humor? It's probably because I don't have access to the normal objects of witticism (pop-culture, surrounding circumstances, references to previous events). Oh well...someday when I'm not up to my nose in legal research, I'll be able to make jokes that are actually funny. But, by definition, today is not someday.

Research has been an interesting process. I think I've finally gotten a handle on what being a research assistant is. The research is raised by an unanswered question. The research process answers the question and is analogous to putting together a puzzle. My job isn't to put the pieces together. My job is to find the right pieces out of a box of pieces for many different puzzles. Then, I'll give the pieces to the judge to work out. So, it's critical that I find all the right pieces.

I've spend a large part of today navigating various research channels and will continue to do so. I also need to go jogging. But, the day is kind of rainy...but I feel so much better after I jog...but I feel awful when I jog. So, that will be an interesting conflict that I will resolve later. Unlike the research project, I actually will have to answer this question. Also unlike the research project, I'm not interested in the answer...

At any rate, I got to research from home today and not have to defend myself against the hordes of marauding, inconsiderate Dallas drivers. People generally drive friendly in Texas. For one, we Texans aren't a rushed people. For another, many people don't carry the statutorily mandated liability insurance--an accident could result in the suspension of their license. Additionally driving "friendly" is the Texas way. But, there's something about Dallas drivers...Dallasites I think are just tightly wound and obnoxious. But, that's just my humble, West-Plex point of view. (Note: I'm attempting to get people to call the DFW area "the Plex." It's a shortened form of "Metroplex," which is a common way to reference the area. I think it could work.)

In the meantime, keep it real.

Today was my first day of internshipery. There was a commute. There were important things. I felt like a grown up.

Unfortunately, I was unprepared. I spent most of my time observing the court. I've decided to keep a journal from now own. I'll call it: "Trey's Guide to Dying." It sounds morbid...but I'm in a probate court, which deals primarily with the instruments of death--wills, will contests, etc. (Sorry @robofthesky, I'm not stealing your "guide" paradigm, I promise!). So, it's an apt title.

I learned a lot (like about the Court's hesitance to construe a will without an underlying, authorizing cause of action). And I saw some pretty absurd things (like the lawyer who said that opposing counsel "threw" an order at him. I "L"edOL.).

All in all, I'm looking forward to tomorrow.

Today started better than the best couple days have wound up. (Perhaps for lack of an event requiring it? J/k...BizOrg joke (BizOrg = business organization).)

It appears that I will get an internship after all, which is exciting...kind of. It's not the one I wanted...there may be a lot of work. However, it seems that the schedule will be rather flexible. Plus, it will be a good resume builder...which I DESPERATELY need. But, that means I need to get my FB page together...you know, to look official/professional. Sigh. I'm not sure I can pull it off. But, then again, self-doubt and loathing is my strong suit...before you get upset thinking I'm being ridiculous, it's been said that "it's not bagging if it's true." So, despite what you may think, I'm not just full of myself.

I bought tickets today for the various legs of my trip to Europe later. I have a layover in Amsterdam. I wish there was enough time to enjoy the Netherlands...alas, it'll just be another opportunity in my life that I'll have to fee liked I missed. C'est la vie. Qu'est-ce qu'on fait? The good news is that the layover should be the perfect amount of time to get to the next gate and catch my breath from running. Score!

My sister was kind enough to let me crash at her place in Switzerland for the few days before I have to be in Spain. That'll give me a chance to get over the jet lag. Luckily, the jaunt from there to Madrid is less than two hours. The timing for checking in that day should be perfect.

So, my summer will be: Internship in Dallas, brief stay en Suisse, studying abroad in Spain, nannying in Swtizerland. Not too shabby.

And accomplishing the same.

Although, I did catch the new "Addicted to You" video. It was a disappointment. But, that's probably only fair that I have that reaction...since that the emotion I produce in most people I meet.

In other news, I've decided to reactivate my Facebook. I'm trying to make it awesome. I'm adding pictures, updating my statuses, etc...but it seems entirely hollow because, as of yet, I still have no friends. My FB page is sad, which makes me sad. I'm bad at Facebook. I.e., I'm bad at doing nothing.

The good news is that I don't have to be doing anything. So, by not accomplishing anything, I'm right on task. There's a comfort in being on task. There's discomfort in not having a task...everything feels wasted. Especially when there's a task you want to have.

But, I'm going to try to keep busy doing productive things. Let's see how it goes. The good news is that I have a blog, so if there are any developments--you'll be posted.

BTW, this is getting posted to the ol' FB wall.

Note: The whole post is not French!***D’abord, je voudrais exprimer que je suis très désolépour les erreurs que vous verrez ici. Je ne parle pas français nativement, et voilà pourquoi je commets des erreurs de grammaire.***

C’était mois…j’étais le petit homme. Mais je ne suis pas petit et n’avais pasde drôle de maison. Rather,I lived within the walls I created for myself.

Quand on estpetit, personne tells about the dangers of l’imagination. Quelquesfois, une maîtrise a dit, dutifully and jovially, que “Your imagination is apowerful thing. Use it wisely.” Elle n’ajouté pas de explication. Leproblème est que les jeunes ne sont pas très sages. So, seizing onthis newfound power, I built another world…un lieu sain et sauf ou je pouvaisréflechir aux evennements du jour or even about what I wanted to do in thefuture. Slowly, though, I stopped carrying the “baggage” « de la réalité »with me. Je fixais sur la construction imaginaire.

 …Pirouette, cacahuète…

Comme le « pauvre » facteur a appris, appearancescan be deceptive. Jene me suis pas blessé le nez while using a paper staircase; néanmois, I oftenrely too much on my imaginatively constructed reality to the detriment of morereasonable observations. In the scheme of things, this seems like a mild fauxpas ; mais, il apporte des conséquences graves.

Aujourd’hui, j’ai trouvé cette citation de MadeleineMonette :

« Le danger, c’est quand on se met à composer sa viecomme une œuvre d’art. Le danger, c’est quand l’imagination n’écoute plus quesa propre poésie. »

“‘Danger’ iswhen you start proceeding with  your lifelike it’s a work of art. ‘Danger’ is when your imagination stops listening toeverything but its own poetry.”

 There’s afundamental beauty to tidiness. I like it when things wrap up neatly.  J’aime beaucoup l’esthétique.Je préfère que tout aille nettoiement, selon un schème discernable. But, lifeis messy. La vie ne se passe toujours comme prévue. Le problème que je trouveest que a lot of times, my neat and tidy explanations of things I can’t directly observe ne revèlent pas toujoursla vérité.

 Et voilà la chose: l’imagination doit être basée sur la  réalité.Or else, it fails for want of meaning. Imagination, while powerful, cannot existin a vacuum. To achieve anything, must begin or end or in some way develop areal issue. Ce qui est purement imaginaire ne fait que perdre letemps. Mais, quand ces deux forces sont en équilibre, there’s a dynamicsynthesis of thought that leads to compelling resolution…voilà, le synthèsedynamique.

Avez-vous des conseilles pour bien mélanger la réalité etl’imagination ? Howdo you keep your imagination in check ? How do you keep reality fromkilling it ?

If you’re notfamiliar with this song, c’est mignonne. Voici un lien.

I've been looking forward to summer break for a while. The way our classes are scheduled, we don't really get any time to stop and breathe. Our breaks come in the middle of the quarters--which is NOT the way the quarter system is supposed to work, btw. Consequently, I spend my quarters worrying about outlining, catching up, pending finals, etc. instead of decompressing. It's entirely likely that this is a "me" problem because I don't handle stress well...I should probably be medicated. But, I'm not, so...I whine in a blog instead.

Anyway, instead of studying the law of business organizations in the wee hours of the morning like I should have been because I couldn't sleep, I stumbled across some old blogs written by friends in high school. While I graduated in 2007 and the blogs were from around my sophomore year, it still doesn't seem like it was THAT long ago (not the eight years that it's been). And while I was an ancillary character in the blogs (I can remember the events happening, but I wasn't a party), I felt a weird nostalgia. I disliked the first half of high school, but generally liked the second half. But, I made many more mistakes the second half (mostly class scheduling), which I desperately wish I could undo.

In high school, the only (extra)curricular activity I really participated in was drama/theater. I wish now I hadn't. It turns out, I don't really like it. This realization was compounded by the fact the old blogs I read were written by hardcore drama students--the type who are likely now professional actors. They had incredible talent...and pursued it. They were all in.

In contrast, I didn't go all in high school. My talent was not drama, but language. I don't speak French and Spanish perfectly; but, for only having learned them in school, my current capacity to use those languages is freaking incredible. Rather than take French III in high school, I did the one-act play competition. It was lame. We didn't do well (due in part because the really talented people I mentioned earlier boycotted the competition under the teacher who was the coach). French III would have been a much better use of my time. For that matter, art classes would have been a better use of my time!

So...Here on the verge of summer, anticipating the upcoming break, I see myself looking forward but hung up on the similarities my current state bears to the past. I'm in law school. I don't have a preferred area. My grades aren't good. I don't feel like I'm succeeding on this "life path." I spend most of my time doing stuff that's not my favorite.

Sometimes I want to raise a single, glorious middle finger to law school and get a Ph.D. in linguistics. Doubtlessly, I'd uncover all the mysteries of universal grammar and reveal the complexities of human, verbal expression. Hah! But even if I didn't, I'm fairly sure that I would enjoy every second of trying to do so. Other times, I think that dream is illusory and it wouldn't work out the way that I think it would, which is probably true.

The situation then is somewhat analogous to the one I'm facing now. I'm having to make decisions, essentially without guidance, about what I can do to make my future better. The lack of guidance comes more from the inherent uncertainty of the future than a lack of advisers. That is, my choices are essentially a "best choice," which is still entirely speculative; I can't ground a choice in anything concrete. That was my condition in high school. It's the same story now.

The only comfort I find is that I'm about eighteen months from my twenty-fifth birthday. When you turn twenty-five, most of your big life choices are over. You're education is essentially complete; you've selected a career; most people have found a spouse or are in a relationship with the person who will be their spouse. The quarter-century paradigm is not as pervasive as it once was (and I could go on for days about how unfair it is that society makes under-25-year-olds make these choices); however, it still lingers enough to make me think that somehow, within the next two years, my life will magically all come together. Y sigo esperando...

This post turned out kind of melancholy. If you need something a little cheerier, watch this. http://www.youtube.com/watch?src_vid=vDRnkTSdbRE&annotation_id=annotation_831236&feature=iv&v=jTzOh3K11jM  I'm sure it's the next youtube sensation. I want to get my parody in early...I have a clever idea that involves contraceptives and tacos...cuz I'm classy.