the daily snivel
Yours Truly, B.A., LL.B.
This weekend, I graduated from law school at the University of Ottawa. What an amazing feeling it is to finally be done (and a feeling that would fill me with even more thrills and tingles if I didn't have to qualify the statement "Hooray! I've finished school!" with "... except for those classes I have to go to every morning..." as I trudge my way to the Bar Admissions Course only hours after being handed the diploma). The past three years have, in a sense, flown by, but they were still invested with a great deal of work, hardship, stress, and sacrifice. As every graduation speech will inform you, a graduation ceremony is both an ending and a new beginning, but I feel this is especially poignant when thinking about the fact that I am about to enter a profession that fosters continual learning and a refinement of the skills I already feel confident about. It's the beginning of a future in the practice of law. It's the beginning of the great things I will do. It's the beginning of having to repay my small mortgage-sized student loans.
Convocation was held at a fancy-pants ceremony held at the National Arts Centre -- which, let me tell you, is a far cry better than the stuffy gym at Carleton University, which was were my last convocation took place. I felt very proud to be there that day, surrounded by friends, family, and colleagues, and being bestowed the Baccalaureate of Laws I had worked so hard to earn over the past three years. The night before, I took my mother and my dear friend Natalie to a dinner that was being held at the Chateau Laurier (one of Canada's few five-star hotels) for the Common Law students. Tickets were $55 each, and soft drinks were $3.50 (let alone the $6 price of a domestic beer), but we were in the grand ballroom of this immense old hotel and treated to elegant service, complimentary wine with dinner, and the vegetarian option was nothing short of fantastic. Yum. After the dinner, the dance floor opened up, and I couldn't resist shaking my booty somewhat. My dear mother got acquainted with some of the other law school mothers when she went outside to smoke, by chance getting engrossed in a half-hour conversation of the mother of a good pal of mine, prompting said friend to go looking for her in concern.
After that, it was off to the Dominion Tavern. Ah, the Dominion. It's a wholly unpretentious rock'n'roll bar in the middle of the Byward Market. Lesser law students have turned their noses up at it, remarking that the patrons look like people on welfare who would rape you, but I've been going there for the past ten years and my mother, brothers, sister and I have spent the past two Christmas-ses there (as my older brother works there and likes the Xmas day shift), and we can all attest to the fact that it is simply laid-back, thoroughly non-swanky, and a source of cheap pints and (yes) quarts. A bunch of my friends were going out after the dinner to the Dominion in their suits and gowns, and being joined by many more who did not attend the dinner but like drinking and carousing all the same.
It was a little hard getting up the next morning for the ceremony, but once I had a shower I was at least able to shimmy into my suit, buckle my feet into my finest, most uncomfortable shoes, and tie up my necktie into a passable half-windsor knot. I had to be at the National Arts Centre for 8:30 to get robed, hooded, poked, and prodded, but was comforted by the fact that all my bleary friends were also there, doing the exact same thing. At some point I was (rather unceremoniously) handed a program, ushered to a seat, and left to await my destiny.
Of course, I had the happy knowledge that in the audience were my mother, my brother and my sister-in-law, my dear friends Natalie, Celeste, and Mélanie, and some law school friends besides. When I was called to the stage and my awards were announced, I was lavished with applause and cheers (including those delightfully non-obligatory "woos!" that signal that people are really excited for you, and not just being polite), and truly ate the attention up. A friend later remarked that my awards took the longest to announce because of the wordy qualifications attached (e.g. "The Legal Aid Ontario Awards to have made an outstanding and and continuous contribution to legal aid, clinical practice and/or public interest law."), thus heightening the spotlight. Afterwards, I madly lunged for a table of coffee and cookies, since I had partaken in neither coffee nor breakfast before leaving early that morning, and it was now noon. Then I was found in the immense crowds by Celeste and Mélanie, still sipping my coffee gratefully and looking around for signs of familiar faces, and dragged outside to join the rest of my party and become the subject of many, many photographs, variously posing with family, friends, and just the diploma. Throughout, I was pleased to see how well my mother got along with my friends, especially Celeste (who has now met the entire set of my highly collectible family members).
And, oh, the wonderful day just kept continuing. My friend Mélanie was the gracious hostess of a brunch for myself, my mother, and Celeste, cooking eggs, tater tots (never underestimate the wonderous powers of fried potato products), and providing literally heaps of croissants and danishes while we sat on her huge balcony at her new apartment. That new apartment, coincidentally, was my brother's old apartment, and after brunch my mother and I made our way to the new house that my brother and sister-in-law just bought and moved into, for many fine hours of conversation and tasty beer. I was really stunned by their new house. It's a small, post-war bungalo that has been well-maintained, though they are in the process of extensively renovating it. What shocked me was the floor -- a beautiful, matte-finish hardwood floor that looked all the world like it was brand new. When they first looked at the house as prospective buyers, the floors were this nasty green linoleum tile. In fact, below that layer of flooring was another layer of tile. Beneath that were pristine hardwood floors.
This is something of an aside, but I've always been shocked and appalled when watching those home renovation shows like "Trading Spaces" and found that beneath some god-awful layer of soiled carpeting or lineoleum are beautiful hardwood floors that were covered up and forgotten about years or decades ago. The amazed designers rip up the nasty old stuff and all of a sudden you see pristine hardwood that must increase the value of the home by thousands of dollars. I've always thought it should be a crime to cover up hardwood floors.
So, in terms of my brother's house, it turns out that at some point in the past it was no longer fashionable to have hardwood floors. People went out of their way to have their homes re-done with wall-to-wall carpets and tile. So the hardwood floors were covered in plywood that was (sob) nailed down, and over that went glued-down tile. As the years went by, another layer was added. It took my brother and his wife three agonizing weeks to rip up the old flooring nail by nail, after which they had to sand down and re-finish the hardwood floors. But the result is fantastic and beautiful, and I was sincerely impressed by the elegance it added to their home, even in its stage of being only partially renovated.
Anyway, all that to say I had a wonderful weekend. I am indebted to my friends and family for their support (and patient understanding) over the past three years of law school, and it was great to have them with me as I graduated, and to share such happy times.
Thanks.
Comments:Convocation was held at a fancy-pants ceremony held at the National Arts Centre -- which, let me tell you, is a far cry better than the stuffy gym at Carleton University, which was were my last convocation took place. I felt very proud to be there that day, surrounded by friends, family, and colleagues, and being bestowed the Baccalaureate of Laws I had worked so hard to earn over the past three years. The night before, I took my mother and my dear friend Natalie to a dinner that was being held at the Chateau Laurier (one of Canada's few five-star hotels) for the Common Law students. Tickets were $55 each, and soft drinks were $3.50 (let alone the $6 price of a domestic beer), but we were in the grand ballroom of this immense old hotel and treated to elegant service, complimentary wine with dinner, and the vegetarian option was nothing short of fantastic. Yum. After the dinner, the dance floor opened up, and I couldn't resist shaking my booty somewhat. My dear mother got acquainted with some of the other law school mothers when she went outside to smoke, by chance getting engrossed in a half-hour conversation of the mother of a good pal of mine, prompting said friend to go looking for her in concern.
After that, it was off to the Dominion Tavern. Ah, the Dominion. It's a wholly unpretentious rock'n'roll bar in the middle of the Byward Market. Lesser law students have turned their noses up at it, remarking that the patrons look like people on welfare who would rape you, but I've been going there for the past ten years and my mother, brothers, sister and I have spent the past two Christmas-ses there (as my older brother works there and likes the Xmas day shift), and we can all attest to the fact that it is simply laid-back, thoroughly non-swanky, and a source of cheap pints and (yes) quarts. A bunch of my friends were going out after the dinner to the Dominion in their suits and gowns, and being joined by many more who did not attend the dinner but like drinking and carousing all the same.
It was a little hard getting up the next morning for the ceremony, but once I had a shower I was at least able to shimmy into my suit, buckle my feet into my finest, most uncomfortable shoes, and tie up my necktie into a passable half-windsor knot. I had to be at the National Arts Centre for 8:30 to get robed, hooded, poked, and prodded, but was comforted by the fact that all my bleary friends were also there, doing the exact same thing. At some point I was (rather unceremoniously) handed a program, ushered to a seat, and left to await my destiny.
Of course, I had the happy knowledge that in the audience were my mother, my brother and my sister-in-law, my dear friends Natalie, Celeste, and Mélanie, and some law school friends besides. When I was called to the stage and my awards were announced, I was lavished with applause and cheers (including those delightfully non-obligatory "woos!" that signal that people are really excited for you, and not just being polite), and truly ate the attention up. A friend later remarked that my awards took the longest to announce because of the wordy qualifications attached (e.g. "The Legal Aid Ontario Awards to have made an outstanding and and continuous contribution to legal aid, clinical practice and/or public interest law."), thus heightening the spotlight. Afterwards, I madly lunged for a table of coffee and cookies, since I had partaken in neither coffee nor breakfast before leaving early that morning, and it was now noon. Then I was found in the immense crowds by Celeste and Mélanie, still sipping my coffee gratefully and looking around for signs of familiar faces, and dragged outside to join the rest of my party and become the subject of many, many photographs, variously posing with family, friends, and just the diploma. Throughout, I was pleased to see how well my mother got along with my friends, especially Celeste (who has now met the entire set of my highly collectible family members).
And, oh, the wonderful day just kept continuing. My friend Mélanie was the gracious hostess of a brunch for myself, my mother, and Celeste, cooking eggs, tater tots (never underestimate the wonderous powers of fried potato products), and providing literally heaps of croissants and danishes while we sat on her huge balcony at her new apartment. That new apartment, coincidentally, was my brother's old apartment, and after brunch my mother and I made our way to the new house that my brother and sister-in-law just bought and moved into, for many fine hours of conversation and tasty beer. I was really stunned by their new house. It's a small, post-war bungalo that has been well-maintained, though they are in the process of extensively renovating it. What shocked me was the floor -- a beautiful, matte-finish hardwood floor that looked all the world like it was brand new. When they first looked at the house as prospective buyers, the floors were this nasty green linoleum tile. In fact, below that layer of flooring was another layer of tile. Beneath that were pristine hardwood floors.
This is something of an aside, but I've always been shocked and appalled when watching those home renovation shows like "Trading Spaces" and found that beneath some god-awful layer of soiled carpeting or lineoleum are beautiful hardwood floors that were covered up and forgotten about years or decades ago. The amazed designers rip up the nasty old stuff and all of a sudden you see pristine hardwood that must increase the value of the home by thousands of dollars. I've always thought it should be a crime to cover up hardwood floors.
So, in terms of my brother's house, it turns out that at some point in the past it was no longer fashionable to have hardwood floors. People went out of their way to have their homes re-done with wall-to-wall carpets and tile. So the hardwood floors were covered in plywood that was (sob) nailed down, and over that went glued-down tile. As the years went by, another layer was added. It took my brother and his wife three agonizing weeks to rip up the old flooring nail by nail, after which they had to sand down and re-finish the hardwood floors. But the result is fantastic and beautiful, and I was sincerely impressed by the elegance it added to their home, even in its stage of being only partially renovated.
Anyway, all that to say I had a wonderful weekend. I am indebted to my friends and family for their support (and patient understanding) over the past three years of law school, and it was great to have them with me as I graduated, and to share such happy times.
Thanks.
