"Objection! Assumes a fact not in evidence. We've not established that this evening is, in fact, good."

So...I've been learning a lot lately. The good news is that with all the homework I've had, I haven't had to spend a lot of time with myself. I've had to move so much stuff into my brain so quickly, there's hardly room for me in here anymore, which probably is a good thing. Today I had my first exam. It was professional responsibility. While it's important, the substance of the test is not NEARLY as difficult as the others will be. So, it's a relatively small deal.

Even still, I tried to celebrate a little that the exam was over. It didn't work out.

Do you know that feeling you get when you've made a choice and you're left dealing with the consequences, which just make you sad. Even when that choice is the right one, it's still not easy when you feel like you're missing out on something others have that you don't. That feeling is where I am right now.

For me, that "choice" is not having friends. I'm not saying I can't or that no one likes me or anything like that. It's just that I shouldn't. A while back I realized that (1) I don't understand what having friends/being a friend means; and (2) that confusion makes my life hell. My life is much more manageable without the angst of dealing with humanity. I know it's selfish. But, it's necessary.

ANYWAY, having no friends bummed me out tonight when I wanted to go out. I felt like a celebratory drink was in order. But, my trawling the bar scene solo was not a good idea.

I realized that I'm too old to hang out at the bar near my home. Really, I'm too old for most of the bars in this college town. And, I'm out of place...I sat awkwardly on a stool by myself underneath the television playing 4 pics 1 word for nearly half an hour before I left. So, I'm sure I looked strange. Although, I did wear a bow tie. What's life without a little whimsy? Hmmm?

So, after I tried to be cool for an hour, I failed. But that's okay. That's me. I'm not cool. I AAAAAMMM free, and I'm running with blood on my knees (bonus points to the person who can identify the song and artist I'm stealing from!).

It's time now to rest...and start frantically reviewing for my next exam on Tuesday. For those of you who pray, please, please, PLEASE keep my passing the next exams in your prayers. : ) Much obliged.

Did you have a good Saturday evening?

First, thanks for all of your well wishes as I've been getting through finals this week. It's hard to wish your classmates luck/get them to wish you luck when you're forced to a very strict curve: usually mutual luck is impossible. At this point, I only have one, 2-hour exam tomorrow morning. And it will all be multiple choice. : )  I should be done by 10:30 at the latest. Then, the winter quarter is OVER! And I'll be a 3L...I'm kind of surprised that it has even happened.

But, come Monday...practice court starts. Fort those who don't know, practice court is a big nasty monster that swallows you alive and doesn't barf you out until two quarters later after it's mercilessly eaten six months of your life and most of your life dreams. Then...there's review like made for the bar. Then the bar exam. And then working for the next 45 years of my life. 45 is feasible...I crunched the numbers. IT NEVER ENDS!

ANYWAY, all that to say: posting from here forward will be sporadic at best. There may be an occasional weekend post. But I make no promises! Hopefully I'll still be able to keep up with what y'all are posting. I think it will keep my sane.

For now: I think I will take a nap before my parents get here this evening. And, later, I will study for family business planning.

One of the most impressive trends over the past several hundred years is the move toward formidable macro-cultures. North America (US and Canada) is perhaps the clearest example. Although vast and diverse in geography, population, and historical profiles, there are significant similarities that you expect as you travel across the region. Things like: fashion, types of restaurants, the music people are listening to, how people spend their time, relationships with technology, etc. I will hazard that my day (in TX) doesn't look that much different (depending on the time of year/weather) from that of someone who lives in Toronto--even though we're separated by 1200 miles/2000 km and two, distinct sovereign governments. But, 1200 miles in another direction puts in you Oaxaca, Mexico where things are very different from here!

Anyway, the point of the post is: I sense the beginnings of a Latin American/Spanish/Portuguese macro-culture. And Zumba could be the evidence of such a trend. Zumba is more than just the latest fitness craze in the US. It could be considered a new genre of music that has roots over a large geographic area. The existence of "Zumba" raises an interesting issue: Is Zumba an externally imposed label or one that actually serves a useful purpose in reflecting a trend in process? That is, has the fitness movement artificially created a class of music, OR is it "a next step" in a trend that has been well underway? In the first case, recognizing a "Zumba" genre is probably not appropriate; in the second case, there very well could be something here. Naturally, we must begin with a discussion of what music is "Zumba."

During the workouts, the songs played are upbeat, with strong, underlying bass and percussive elements. They're almost exclusively in Spanish or (Brazilian) Portuguese. the product of different musical traditions with little in common--other than the language used. Current Zumba tunes feature aspects of reggaeton, cumbia, bachata, and even hip-hop. All of these are distinct genres with their own characteristic elements; most have a regional component--especially cumbia. In contrast, Zumba is a big mixing bowl of sound, beat, rhythm, subject, and tone. It's not limited to any one region. Some of the prominent "Zumba artists" and their nationalities are listed below.

Daddy Yankee: American (PuertoRican)
Pitbull: American (Miami-Cuban)
Don Omar: Dominican
Gusttavo Lima: Brazilian
Michel Telo: Brazilian
Juan Magan: Spanish
Note: Mexico is conspicuously absent (to my knowledge--please inform me if I've overlooked someone).

There's also a very prominent subject to "Zumba" songs: generally, they're about dancing with an attractive individual. They often tell the story of how the dancers got together, why they're "en la discoteca," etc. "No sigue modas" is a great example of this, although it's not unique in its substance.

It's also noteworthy that Don Omar has released a song called "Zumba." Whether this is a brand-sponsored deal, I don't know. But, it exhibits all the characteristics of the genre--if it can be properly so called. It has the strong beat, those high-pitched instrument things that I don't know, and even a salsa "cameo." In fact, I'm sure it even follows a definite development pattern, but that's a technical matter of musical theory on which I am not qualified to opine...also, I don't want to put that much time into thinking about it.

Perhaps most critical is the terpsichorean effect of Zumba. No matter what happens, when a Zumba beat pulses through the speakers, I have to twerkalate...at least a little. Often, my "manos" go "arriba." It's almost involuntary.

[Side not: if this is true, the owners of the "Zumba" brand would do well to register their brandname/logo in Latin America and Europe since USTPO protection ends at the border. While that's a good idea, please note it is NOT legal advice...just a thought.]

I think it will be interesting to see how Zumba develops...especially in the Caribbean where there is a great mix of Euro-original institutions mixed with Afro-original and native cultures. Even for the similar history of the region: Native cultures displaced by European cultures who brought slaves, there is great diversity: Haiti is very different from the Cayman Islands: Puerto Rico from the Virgin Islands; Jamaica from Trinidad; etc. While closely situated, each one is very distinct, making a little a leopard print of human culture in the Caribbean basin.

It's also interesting to think that American demand for a "regional" product might have spurred transcultural (or supracultural?) innovation. While Americans might be the consumers of these cultural products, the American culture isn't actually that involved in the production. But, this seems better topic for sociologists/ anthropologist/ academic humanitarians. So...have at it!

So...what do you think?  What are your experiences with Zumba? WHY AM I THE ONLY WHITE PERSON WHO THINKS ABOUT THIS STUFF?

...is empty now. I used up all my expletives on the walk to the bus stop after my tax exam this morning. I'ts understandable, I guess. But, with each step, I thought of something that I did wrong or forgot or could have done better. And, with each step, a tiny--somtimes silent, sometimes not--curse fell from my mouth onto the ground below.

Plus, it's the tax code: you can be wrong EVEN IF you're right. MMUUUGGGHHHLLL!

But, it's over now. There's nothing to be done at this point.

So, I'm going to start working on my estate planning project in advance of the final tomorrow. It never ends. Wish me luck!

On the plus side, I've brokered a PC-materials deal. So...Whoop!

The "unusualness" here is twofold. First, it's unusual for me to have conversations with strangers. Second, the subject matter of the conversations were unusual.

After I submitted my paper around 3:30 I was hungry (not having eaten since 4). I decided to treat myself to lunch. Plus, I had a coupon. So, I made the little jaunt to a nearby Wendy's. After I placed my order and got my cup, there was a lady babbling to herself at the soda fountain.

Lady: "Man...I'm so hungry, I'm dizzy."

Me: (trying to be polite...the lady clearly wanted to talk with somebody) "I've been so hungry before, I thought I would throw up, but never dizzy."

Lady: "I gottoo tell ya', I'm in a bad spot." (Please note: she had her food in her bag at the soda fountain, she just hadn't started fooding yet).

Me: "I feel ya." (WTF what am I SAYING? Engaging in the conversation was a bad choice. Abort. ABORT!)

Lady: "One time, my brother said...he said...look here...he said he was so hungry (she lowers her voice and looks around)

Me: (leans in)

Lady. "Look here...he was so hungry...he said he could eat the ass out of a rag doll."

Me: (politely laughs)

Lady: (cackles)

Me: (continues to politely laugh and move toward a table)

Lady: (now from across the dining area) "...out of a rag doll!" (more cackling)

Me: (more polite laughter)

Truly, this lady could have been the inspiration for an SNL character. Throw her on set with Janet and I would probably fall into a giggle coma. My chicken sandwich was not nearly as spicy at that moment shared with a total stranger. I went to a restaurant with a coupon and left with WAY more than what I paid--a bargain of many dimension.

Then, on the walk home, I passed a man in a green shirt with a green hat who stopped to ask if I smoked cigarettes. I said no. And apologized--which now seems ridiculous. I SHOULD NEVER HAVE TO APOLOGIZE FOR NOT SMOKING! He said, "then, do you at least have 45 cents." I said, "No, I have no cash on me." That was factual. If I have change, I normally give it away to people who ask. I don't like the jingles.

As I got back, I had to go to the bathroom (too much spinach lately). I was reflecting on the general uniqueness of the preceding hour (rag doll and all) in my "thinking spot." I got to thinking that the guy in green looked a lot like a guy I had helped out previously (I mentioned in this post). Then...the doorbell rang. I didn't even know I had a doorbell. I quickly pulled myself together to answer the door...some business was left unfinished.

It turns out that it WAS Bobby from before. But, neither of us recognized each other right away. In my defense, I thought he was going back to Austin AND he was wearing a hat low over his face. In his defense, I was wearing a hat. Neither of us wore hats when we first met. To my credit, I did remember his name. He had forgotten min. In his defense, I'm not that memorable. Anyway, he remembered where I lived and he just popped on over.

So, Bobby's at the door. He asked if I was busy...I said I was--I had just been in the middle of a fairly important activity. He then asked if I can help him out with an "arrangement" to make rent payments. I said I couldn't. I had no cash on me. Also, I had no way to get to a free ATM because I don't have my car. He seemed disappointed, but understanding.

And...dear readers (especially the one I know IRL who makes fun of me for this), he asked about the bag I gave him last time. He remembered it because it had socks in it. Forget the pop tarts and the water bottles and the fast food gift card. What he remembered was socks. I told him I had another one if he wanted it (I keep several of these "hobo bags" made up and ready to go at all times.). He took it and then went on his way...still a little sad about the failure of his arrangement.

So, while Kelis has the milkshake that brings all the boys to the yard, I have the hobo bags that bring the indigents. Hmmmm. I don't know how I feel that there are ex-cons comfortable walking up to my house and ringing my doorbell because they *THINK* they saw me on a walk home. He really seems pretty harmless...and I guess, worst-case scenario he kills me: he's still solved more problems than he's created. So I shouldn't complain, right?

I guess on the upside, I have a friend in the 'hood? Maybe...idk. I don't think even Bobby wants to be friends with me IRL. Pero...no me aguito. C'est la vie. Meh...at least no one can beat me over the head with Matthew 25:40.

...I've had enough law this past quarter to resolve the following hypothetical (I think I've left out Tort and Con. Law issues):

"Businessperson X approaches you and is interested in expanding his business. He has contacted a potential purchaser in the Netherlands about buying his goods. However, he cannot acquire enough raw materially domestically to meet the demands, but he has several potential suppliers in the Middle East, Mexico, and Brazil. Furthermore, he's currently operating his business as a sole proprietorship. X anticipates that the business will grow substantially as a result. To that he's interested in purchasing a local state-law corporation whose single owner has offered to sell him all the stock in the corporation so he can take over the business. He is not individually wealthy and his business assets are not substantial.

If the expansion takes place, X wants to be sure to include several employees as owners in the venture. These employees made the business profitable this last year after having run losses in the previous three years. They were also instrumental in creating the brand logo that has helped the company do so well.

Furthermore, X is in the midst of an affair. He's planning to divorce his spouse and marry his girlfriend. He has an inclination that the girlfriend is a gold digger, and while he's madly in love, he's still a little suspicious. Although his relationship with his wife is strained, he stays close with his children and would like to see his business eventually go to them."

Advise X on his options to achieve his goals, being sure to cover possible liabilities, risk management, trade law, and income and transfer tax consequences. Recommend a plan for him to aid this next phase of the rest of his life.

I think a fact pattern like this could easily result in dozens of billable hours. Easily. But, that may be because I'm slow and inefficient.

***[DISCLAIMER: There are probably some (especially idiomatic) errors. If you notice any, don't hesitate to let me know. Thanks! ATENCIÓN: Es probable que hay errores (especialmente idiomáticos). Hazme el favor de enterarme para que yo los corrija. ¡Gracias!]***

…porqué continúes leyendo esto. No sé qué quiera decir; y no sé qué hacer.

No hablamos de ello nunca, incluso cuando nos vemos. Por el otro lado, no nos hablamos nunca de nada—un hecho raro ya que es unusual que no tengas nada que decir. Tienes muchas palabras. Para ser justo, tengo también muchas palabras, pero no las digo a nadie nunca. Las escribo aquí. Es más seguro así.

AUN, no lo comprendo. No hay nada aquí para ti. Es decir, a menos de que te guste saber que soy todavía inoportuno y que me falta una sofisticación social…pero eso no cambiará jamás…sin importar de que sigas leyendo.

Lo que me confunde más es como compartes lo que escribo aquí con otras personas. Es una cosa compartirlo al pensar: “Wow…es algo interesante. ¿Qué pensarán mis amigos de esto?” Es otra cosa enteramente compartirlo porque: “¡Ay! ¡Qué estrafalario Trey es! Verás si lo lees tú mismo.”

No sé qué hacer.

Me gusta de que esto sea un foro público…Me gusta pensar que, a causa de la franqueza, la gente puede pasear por aquí y encontrar una razón honesta para quedarse por un rato. Es posible que compartamos un interés…o quizás un pensamiento o una risa. PERO!Si lo todo que hago es incitar tus travesuras contra mí, terminaré este blog.  No tengo que lidiar con eso. Si te me quieres sacar de encima de donde siento que pertenezco, bueno. Yo salgo. No vale la lucha.

Si buscas datos de origen para burlarte de mí, sencillamente entérame. Te lo juro: no hay quien me ridiculice o me denigre mejor que yo. Indica la categoría…es probable que yo te envío diez datos dentro de una hora.

Para concluir: no comprendo porqué lees mi blog. Tampoco, no sé qué quieres que yo haga.  Pero, es uno de mis grandes deseos que me dejas en paz…aun si me quedo solito paro el resto de la vida. Porque ninguna atención es major que la tuya.

Sometimes slang is fun. Generally, it has to arise organically; but sometimes, when you have a cool idea for something, you just force it. That's what I'm doing here. Below are a few propositions for new additions to your idiolect. They're already a part of mine!

1. "The 'Plex." I'm from the Dallas-Fort Worth area, as are literally millions of other people. But that's cumbersome to day. It's often shortened to "DFW,"--like the airport. Because it's two, distinct cities, you can't really say you're from Dallas if you're from Fort Worth. Similarly, people who live in Grapevine are just as far from Dallas as they are from Fort Worth. And, people from Grand Prairie, Arlington, Irving, and Plano--all respectable cities in their own right don't like to be lumped into either Dallas, Fort Worth, or DFW. For these reasons, I propose that we call the mass of humanity in North Central Texas "The Plex." It short. It's descriptive. It has its origins in referring to the area as "The Metroplex," but it sounds a lot trendier. I hope it catches on.

2. "Hasta Masta'." There is a danger in creating slang for a language that is not your own. But, I have been speaking Spanish relatively well for eight years now. I feel like I'm allowed. Plus, it's not really novel--it's just an abbreviation of the longer phrase: "hasta mas tarde," which means "see you later!" Plus, this shortened version rhymes, which is fun.

3. "Gracisimas." It's a way to say "Thanks a lot" with a Latin flair. "Gracias" is the general word for "thanks," but I added the "'-isim@" ending, which really is only for adjectives. When it's added, it turns the adjective almost into a superlative. For example, "mucho" to "muchisimo" are "a lot" and "the most!" respectively.

4. "Crazy cakes." I've not been using this one as much I used to use it...it may be outmoded now. For a while, though, I thought it might catch on. I remember saying it once--I don't remember if it's something I picked up or something I invented. After I started using it, I heard it on a TV show...it. was. AWESOME. What I like most is the idea of an insane dessert is pleasant...even if slightly absurd.

Now...to use them all together. Pretend that A and B are having a telephone conversation.

A: Hello

B: Hey, I was wondering, can I get a ride into the 'Plex this weekend?

A: Sure. I thought your sister was taking you. Is everything alright?

B: Yeah...except that she went crazy cakes on me after she caught her boyfriend wearing her underwear. She's not good for anything lately.

A: That's a super bummer. Listen, I gotta get...I just now realized that I have to use the bathroom.

B: Alright, that's cool. I'll talk to you later. Gracisimas for the ride, though.

A: No problem. Hasta masta'.

[clicks]

Do you think you could work these into your conversations? I'd love to hear how it.

To be friends with someone who doesn't judge

OR to be friends with someone who isn't afraid to judge, but will still be your friend when you do terrible (i.e., judgment-worthy) things?

I think I prefer the latter. I sometimes do things that are NOT okay, and I respect those who: 1. know when actions are wrong/inappropriate"; 2. confront me about it; and 3. will hold me accountable for the consequences. In most cases I think a prefer a friend who makes me be a better person--and doesn't let me get away with being less than a great version of me.

I think that if I ever murdered someone, I would rather have the friend who would turn me in and still visit me in prison, rather than the one who helps me escape from "the law" (and whom I would probably never see again).

Maybe this isn't really what I want to post. Maybe, what I want to post is:

GUN TO YOUR HEAD: In less than 100 words, explain what "don't judge me" means.

I may just be a little confused about what people mean when they say, "don't judge me."

This weekend, I went to my dad's cousin's wedding (which is my first cousin once removed, right?) in Baton Rouge. The wedding was a good reflection of the couple and who they are. I think everyone who attended generally enjoyed it.

My (first) cousin (once removed) and the girl he married are both in fairly official, moderately high-profile positions in the government. In planning, they had done a good job of making sure that everything was in good taste--I'm sure a consequence of the make-no-waves mentality their jobs require. The ceremony was in the front yard of a large, neo-antebellum-style plantation house (not built until the 1990s, so no actual slave history). The bride wore a very simple, but elegant gown (it looked nice without being showy or decadent). The bridesmaids wore navy dresses, the groomsmen gray suits (subdued colors that aren't daring, but always look nice). The reception featured a live band (orchestra?) playing Rat Pack and big band songs, with a few Elvis hits here and there (all song in a clear tenor). The food was all professionally prepared and delicious.

All in all, the wedding was very tasteful and classy. But, it was so classy that it verged on being boring.

I've thought about what it means to "be classy" or to "have class." My working definition is that someone 'is classy" or "has class" if: (1) s/he appears comfortable or at ease in any social situation; and (2) demonstrates poise, graciousness, respect, and self-control in the face of anti-social or inappropriate behavior. I think that captures the heart of it with respect to people. With respect to events, though, defining "classiness" is a more difficult task.

 What makes a person classy is the ability or willpower to not make things worse when things go bad. It's an anti-drama characteristic. That idea is harder to translate to an event. I think that what makes an event classy is whether the people who attended had a good time, will remember it, and are glad that they went. At a classy affair, the circumstances don't inflict any undue drama; and if there is a "situation," it is handled quickly and quietly. All in all...kind of lame.

Maybe events shouldn't be TOO classy. When you feel like you can't really mess up or are too afraid to do the wrong thing, things get a little stifled.

One of my favorite lines in a rap song is by Rasheeda in "My Bubble Gum." The line goes: "Classy, but getting nazzty at the same time." I don't know if that's actually the way to spell "nasty," but it seems to fit. I think Rasheeda's delightfully contradictory juxtaposition is the essence of the difference between a good party/event and a GREAT party or event. It needs to be by all objective standards "classy," but provide a structure for the people who atttend to get (just a teeny-tiny bit) nasty at the same time.

As an illustration: the best part of the wedding (in my mind) was my grandmother's comment to one of my first cousins twice removed. The cousin was wearing a long, blingy pair of pendant earrings. After complimenting them, my grandmother said, "If I tried to wear those, they'd be sitting on my tits." I AM NOT PARAPHRASING. That's my little Granny. What it made it so awesome was that it was an off-color thing to say in a "posh" setting. Plus, it was my grandmother...and there were witnesses! So, it was perfect on many levels.

So even though the music was very pleasant, I could have enjoyed it more. Maybe it's just me...but, sometimes I need some booty-shaking tunes. For me, your reception doesn't count if  you don't play "Push It" and "Hey Ya" AND there some drunk foible. That could have taken this perfectly pleasant wedding to a whole. other. level.

How "classy" was the best wedding you've ever attended? If really classy, did you enjoy it anyway?