the daily snivel

Talking Points Memo, a blog I read almost daily, is highlighting a video clip featuring Ben Barnes, the former Speaker of the House in Texas. Evidently this is the man who got President Bush into the Texas Air National Guard at a time when many were seeking this haven from the draft during the Vietnam war. He has this to say about that exercise of influence for the sons of the wealthy:

Let’s talk a minute about John Kerry and George Bush and I know them both. And I’m not name dropping to say I know ‘em both. I got a young man named George W. Bush in the National Guard when I was Lt. Gov. of Texas and I’m not necessarily proud of that. But I did it. And I got a lot of other people into the National Guard because I thought that was what people should do, when you're in office you helped a lot of rich people. And I walked through the Vietnam Memorial the other day and I looked at the names of the people that died in Vietnam and I became more ashamed of myself than I have ever been because it was the worst thing that I did was that I helped a lot of wealthy supporters and a lot of people who had family names of importance get into the National Guard and I’m very sorry about that and I’m very ashamed and I apologize to you as voters of Texas.

The clip is here.

I have become so sickened by the flinging of slime during this election campaign, if not surprised (given that this is one of the most contentious and divisive elections in American history). I am especially upset with the brutal character assassination attempts by the Bush administration and its friends in the Swift Boat Veterans for Politically Motivated Lies Truth. John Kerry went to Vietnam, and both the accounts of eyewitnesses and military records establish beyond any reasonable doubt, debate, or discourse that he acted heroically, was wounded in action on at least three occasions, and deserved the medals he has been awarded. The only motivation behind these lies is to plant the idea in a largely uncritical media that these objective historical facts have ever been open to interpretation. And as every day passes by and we see not only the incontrovertible contradictions to the nearly every SBV claim, but also the exposure of many political, personal, and financial ties between this group and Karl Rove, the Republican Party, and the White House.

Bush has only gone so far as to clamor for an end to "shadowy attacks." He has never condemned the group's tactics. Nor would he, as these dirty tricks served him well in 2000 just as they serve him well now. The formula? Don't just attack your opponent's weaknesses. Make weaknesses up ("flip flopper" and "unstable" and now "lying about his service"), especially when they undermine an opponent's greatest strengths (military service in wartime).

What happened to the time when people made honesty a heroic trait? What about self-sacrifice? What about standing up for what you believe in? When I look at most politicians these days, all I see is dissembling and self-interest and catchphrases like "Common Sense Revolution" and "Compassionate Conservative" that imply a great deal more than they actually deliver.

I had a conversation with a friend this week in which I lamented over my observation that what really seems to matter these days is winning. Winners -- those who come ahead and place first -- are our heroes, be it in sports or politics or journalism or schooling. And that isn't inherently a bad thing. Excellence is something to strive for, and a great shame would it be if people allowed their natural talents to lie fallow, or failed to pursue their dreams. But the idea of winning at all costs, instead of "how you play the game," is something I find even more shameful. Cheating has become increasingly fashionable -- and is acceptable insofar as it is rarely caught and seldom punished meaningfully. Cheating is done in politics by lying, dissembling, slandering, and allowing influence to overcome merit and virtue. Cheating in sport is done by an increasing abuse of performance-enhancing drugs (and this is probably as prevalent in high school and university sports as it is among Olympic athletes and professional athletes). Journalists cheat by making up facts, plagiarizing stories, and failing to critically evaluate stories and sources, to the detriment of a woefully misinformed public. Students cheat too. Everyone's heard of the law school legends of people who tear cases out of library books, and everyone knows someone who downloaded his or her essay off the internet. Earlier this summer I talked about the disappointing story of a friend who gave in and let her friend know what to expect an exam she had deferred.

What it boils down to is that it's the result that matters. It's the big bucks or the degree or winning the election or the prize. Whatever it is, if there's a faster and easier way to do it, then this is the way to do it, no matter the cost to integrity. And no matter the hard-working people you trounce whilst on the way up.

When did we stop celebrating integrity, hard work, honesty, and playing by the rules? When did our heroes just become the people who win? And why is winning so important in the first place? I think there is a great deal more to be gained by doing something because you love it and therefore seeing it as worth doing well, whether or not it pays as well or gets you ahead.

Or am I just idealistically thinking people ever really cared about these things?

Well, anyway, I care about these things. And I have nothing but contempt for those who do not.

Update: More on the Barnes and Bush story here.  

Among the many other relaxing things I did this weekend, I decided to update the format of my website a little, because I noticed (while in various Toronto cybercafes) that the background graphic for my index page wasn't large enough for huge display resolutions, and that there was a bit of noise in the graphic that looked terrible on those same large screens when the image tiled. So that should definitely be looking better now (and perhaps those of you with big, luxurious displays can let me know for sure, since I'm confined to my 12" iBook display at 1024x768).

I also went back and began reformatting my older Daily Snivel archives from 1997-2002 so as to make them consistent with my current Blogger-era entries. I insterted some CSS styles and got rid of a lot of the <pre> and <tt> tags that I was enamoured with when I was a lad. I also got rid of the atricious alternating green and blue font colours that I used to make the text more "readable" back in the day (what was I on?). I've only updated the first 60 archive files (spanning a year and a half between 1997-1998), but it's a good start and I finally like how it looks. Everything is a lot cleaner, easier on the eyes, and looks like it belongs on a mature website that's been running for 7 years, versus one that was set up hurriedly over a weekend by someone who's never done this before. I don't know who (Microsoft) decided to (Microsoft) make Times New (Microsoft) Roman the default display font on web browsers, but it's ghastly.

But, for the first time in years, I got a chance to re-read my old entries as I was inserted CSS code and deleting bad HTML and archaic nuisance tags. I think what's impress me most is that I've really grown in these years. Starting out, all I did was whine about Leah (known then by her pseudonym "Lilith") and worry about lots of little details. I obsessed about whether the phone rang. I obsessed about getting enough attention from people. I obsessed about roommates. I obsessed about classes that I didn't really enjoy, and heavily procrastinated getting work done in them for that reason. In short, I really obsessed about everything. I must have driven people crazy sometimes. In fact I know I did, because I obsessed over that too, and wrote about it.

I'm much more relaxed and balanced now. It's gratifying. I'm happy with the direction -- heck, I have direction, period. I love my classes, I love my work, and I'm happy in my life and with the people around me. I may not be getting all the lovin' I might like, but I'm not whining about it either. I don't base my days on who calls when and how appreciated I feel. I don't pine for unrequited loves. I spend more time writing about things that matter, and engaging in analysis and critique of current events, than I do complaining about things I could change if only I tried. Nowadays, I do change things that bother me. I'm a year away from starting my Articles of Clerkship as a Student-at-Law -- a year after that (all things going according to plan), I'll be a lawyer. Now, I solve problems for people. I'm carrying 16 cases right now at the Community Legal Clinic. I'm in court every week -- sometimes, it's every day. I have heaps of confidence and personal agency and expertise that I just didn't have before. I'm happy where I am, I have big plans (not just idle dreams), and that's that. I've grown up.

Now, of course, I'm still sentimental and sweet and a little sappy, but I'm not so passive and needy and sullen and moody as I was. Which was always the hook behind my good intentions -- I demanded a lot, read into everything, took little mixups entirely the wrong way, and was fairly high maintenance. Currently, I'm just the troubleshooter, the person other people depend on, a good friend, and far more easygoing. I can just laugh things off, or delve straight into the matter, instead of ceaselessly worrying in vain.

I like seeing where I was back in the Classic Snivel days, because it shows me how far I've come. I don't have the same big bag of regrets anymore. There are things that still bug me, and people I wish I saw more (and still intend to), but it's not the same thing as constantly grousing and lamenting without taking charge and fixing things. I have the same dimples, and in fact I use them more. I don't sulk the way I used to. Heck, I have bigger muscles now, too, because I take my extra energy and anxiety and aggression to the gym, instead of brooding or complaining.

I know some of you have been following these entries since the beginning. How do you feel you've changed since then? 

One of the things I've definitely become leery of is sugary beverages. Whether it is Coke, Fruitopia, or my beloved Jolt Cola, the consumption of these sweet drinks is part of our lifestyle here in North America, and it's safe to say that they probably aren't helping our waistlines any. What was once referred to as a "beer belly" is being worn by more and more children, teenagers, and computer programmers than ever before. In fact, can for can, Coke has more calories than your average beer. And so, given my newfound health and fitness after years of Jolt guzzling and dessert choices, I had to say: "I'd rather have beer than pop." So mostly I just drink water now, or coffee without sugar, and the occasional pint while out with friends.

Anyway, I found a rather good manifesto on the subject that I wanted to share. The website, ChangeThis.com, freely disseminates PDF articles that are generally compelling and interesting to read. I'm specifically endorsing this one, since it rings with something I've long personally held -- that is, we should really cut back on the sugar. Not completely, of course, since a life without cake isn't a life worth living, but we really do put it in everything when we should instead be saving it for something really special. I'd much rather abstain from pop or "fruit" drinks like Fruitopia and instead feel entitled to the occasional chocolate bar, or pint out with friends. 

By which I mean, of course, the common car.

Today I applied for and earned my "G1" licence, which is the classification for a learner's permit here in Ontario. The prerequisites for the G1 licence are an eye test, a written knowledge test of signs and the rules of the road, some identification, and a hundred smackarooneys. After successfully providing or completing all of these feats, they take your photo and hand you a piece of paper that says you're good to go, as long as you only do so with a licenced driver accompanying you, having a blood alcohol content of zero, forbearing to drive on any freeway or major highway, and never driving at all between midnight and 5 am.

But other than that, man, I'm rollin'.

Still, it's very exciting to know that I can finally earn a licence and complete the final rite of passage into adulthood, which I've been procrastinating for so many years since until now it's been completely unnecessary for me. Although I absolutely do need a licence and a car for September 2005, when I begin my articling position in Toronto, I'm also looking forward to being able to drive and owning car for other reasons, like being able to go out to the country and visit my Mom whenever I like, for example.

Meanwhile, I'm going to sign up for driving lessons as soon as I can yield up the time and money. It will make the process a heck of a lot easier, and will also considerably shorten the period of time required before I can take the test that qualifies me as a "G2" driver (you can drive by yourself and on major highways, but still only with a blood alcohol content of zero -- I think I can handle that since I detest the very idea of having any alcohol in my system while driving). The official driver's licence card (complete with badly digitized photo!) will be mailed to me in a couple of weeks, which I'm pathetically looking forward to, since it will mean I finally have real ID (aside from my passport, which is cumbersome to carry around).

All in all, neato. 

On Thursday morning at 10:00 am, I formally accepted the offer of employment made to me by a criminal defence law firm located in downtown Toronto. Although the offer was made at 6:00 pm on Wednesday, August 11, I'd decided to wait in order to make a fully informed choice that depended on me knowing my options, since I was first on the waiting list with the Ministry of the Attorney General and might have been in a position to consider an offer from them as well. I suppose that might sound weird, given that I was grateful just to have received any articling position offers that afternoon (and only minutes before had been wondering if my position on either waiting list would lead to more than false hope), but I had a lot to think about and I didn't want to rush into making a decision. Early the next morning, I called the Ministry again and let them know I'd received another offer and would like to know where I stood, as I was still very interested in working with them. The senior civil/family policy counsel called me back and let me know that, unfortunately, the student to whom they'd made an offer the day before had finally accepted it, and so I thanked them for their time and let them know that I appreciated the experience. Then, after some embarassing phone tag with a receptionist (I called the lawyer who'd interviewed me, discovered he wasn't in the office, got his cell phone number, promptly forgot his cell phone number, and I had to call again so I could write it down on a Shopper's Drug Mart receipt and an eye pencil I borrowed from my sister), I rang up my future boss and let him know I was happily accepting the offer. He told me he was very happy to hear it, welcomed me aboard, and asked me to contact the firm next June and in the meantime to "not forget about the car!"

More on that last bit later.

Anyway, I'm tremendously excited about my new job, even though I won't be starting it until over a year from now (the practice is to apply for and arrange articling positions a year before graduation). It's the largest criminal law firm I've ever heard of. I might even get to lock horns with my sister, who is articling with the Crown Attorney's Office as of this September, and who will probably still be working there as a full-fledged lawyer when I commence my own articles as a Student-at-Law.

One of the really cool things that I discovered during my interview with this firm is that all the lawyers use Macintosh computers. When I was waiting for the interview in the reception area, I noticed an iBook box tucked away in a corner. I made a point of asking about that at the end of my interview, since I'm a huge Mac fan and, frankly, even if it is really schmoozy, it shows an interest and I wanted to make sure they had as many reasons to remember me as possible. They let me know that, though some might love the computers and some might hate them, the lawyers at the firm relied on Macs and I'd get one of my own (along with a -- sigh -- cell phone) if I were hired.

The one catch about this job is that I now have to learn how to drive. The articling students are sent to the different satellite courts in Toronto almost every day for routine matters, so having wheels is essential. I think the only reason I wasn't initially ranked higher was because I didn't have a car or a driver's licence, which was a topic that they couldn't emphasize enough during my interview. I was even warned about the fact that a car would be essential at the time, and this was why the words "and, Rob, don't forget about the car!" was the last thing my future boss said to me when I said goodbye.

I confess, I'm actually not too worried about learning to drive. I know the rules of the road extremely well on account of the fact that I cycle on them daily and because a good number of the cases I deal with through the Clinic involve driving offences. I have a lot more confidence when it comes to driving on the road, thanks to the need to be very defensive when cycling, and really the only thing that's held me back until now has been the lack of time, money, and incentive. When you live downtown, within walking, biking, or busing distance of all destinations, it's just not a priority. Now that I have an extremely good and critical reason to learn to drive, I don't foresee any major problems. I took a sample on-line written test this week and passed it with a perfect score, without even doing any extra reading. That said, I'm going to pick up one of those handy-dandy Ministry of Transportation driving instructions manuals and then I'm going to take the written test this week to get my G1 driver's licence (Ontario's version of the learner's permit). Once you have the G1, it takes a year of practicing with a licenced driver before you're eligible to take the road test and earn the G2 licence that qualifies you to drive unsupervised. That can be shortened to 8 months if you take an accredited driving instruction course, which is also something I intend to do -- and, hey, it can decrease your insurance costs to boot.

I'm even excited about moving to Toronto. A lot of my good friends will be articling there as well, such as the fabulously funny Aniel and the devastatingly clever Jenn, and my sister is back in Toronto now, as is my friend and mentor, James. As I mentioned the other day, Angela also lives there, and so do some old friends from Smiths Falls. Even my darling stalker, Leah, lives there now. Assuming the prices in downtown Toronto stay roughly the same as they are right now, I should have no problems getting a one or two bedroom apartment all to myself. I think that's the best part of all. I can hardly wait to start looking in all the funky neighbourhoods for my dream apartment next Spring.

The only thing I'm having mixed feelings about is buying a car. On the one hand, it's kind of exciting to know I'll be able to get a shiny new car next year, but I've become fairly opposed to the driving culture in recent years, seeing the impact our dependence on foreign oil has on the environment, the economy, and the Middle East (not to mention what the car culture has done to the waistlines of millions of North Americans, whose legs have become almost vestigal), and it's odd to know I'm going to be one of those idiots someday myself. I've already priced out hybrid cars and determined that they simply wouldn't fit within my budget, fresh out of law school (and deeply in debt) as I'll be, so I'll have to settle for a car that gets the best mileage possible without really being much of a solution to the overall problem of emissions and fuel consumption. If anyone has any suggestions, please let me know. 

Well, after three days of interviews, receptions, and more interviews, I am at the end of my strenuous journey into the weird world of the articles of clerkship (known as "articling" to us mere mortals, and is the 10-month process of apprenticeship in a law firm that all law school graduates who wish to be Called to the Bar must complete). The earliest that firms could call with offers was today at 5:00 pm. By 5:15 pm, I had heard nothing, and was devastated. Devastated. I could just picture myself slinking home on a bus, smothered in a stinking cloud of failure.

At 6:00 pm, just as I was sitting down to write a despondent e-mail to all my friends at a sleazy Yonge Street cybercafe, my cell phone rang (*) and I got an offer with a criminal law firm in Toronto. I'd just interviewed with them today.

I'm also on a waiting list with the Ministry of the Attorney General. I'm their third choice overall in a process with two positions, meaning I was first on their "waiting list."

I would be thrilled to work at either place, especially given how crestfallen I felt earlier, but as I'm making an important decision I want to know all my options and talk to my friends and family before committing to one place or the other. I'll hear for sure from the Ministry by 9:00 am on Thursday. I have until 12:00 noon to make up my mind with the criminal defence firm. I'll make my decision well before then.

I'll keep you posted.

Meanwhile, I had a thoroughly lovely afternoon with my good friend Angela, who has lived in Toronto for about four years, and whom I hadn't seen in that time. We went out for a drink, and she treated me to pizza and wine in Toronto's beautiful, industrial-esque distillery district. I could totally see myself living around there when the time comes to start work in September 2005.

Aside: I miss Ottawa so much already, after only three days. My cat and my friends miss me terribly, and I miss them. It's a good thing so many of my law school chums will end up here next year as well, or I'd probably die of loneliness.


* -- disclaimer --
It's true that I now have a cell phone. My sister had received an old one from a relative and, since she already has one for kids, court, and driving, she gave it to me to see if perhaps we could activate it and donate it to the Clinic. I'm bringing it to the next Clinic Steering Committee meeting to see if we'd like to use it as a "Clinic cell phone" when caseworkers are in court and need to call clients and call review counsel, but in the meantime it was very essential to have one with me in Toronto, since if a firm calls you and you're not by the phone, you might as well have never existed at all. 

Articling interviews are nigh, so a horde of ambitious law students and myself are descending upon Toronto (also known as "The Big Smoke") like so many flying monkeys. I'm catching a bus later this afternoon, and will be staying at my sister's house for the next few days while I try to land myself an articling position. There will be schmoozing. There will be shameless self-promotion. There will be the shaking of many, many hands. In essence, I will be nothing more than a (reasonably priced) law whore for the next three days. I will do anything, just about anything. I will tell them all why they're my number one choice. I will betray the precious Caramilk Secret. I will give them shoulder rubs.

And then, on Wednesday afternoon at 5:00 pm, I'll know if I have a job.

I'll let you know as soon as I do. 

I honestly didn't know this before, but if you're typing in a text window (such as appears in blogger or a webmail composition) while using Internet Explorer (and perhaps others) and you accidently press the "escape" key, it clears the entire field and all your hard work is lost instantly.

As just happened to me and the post it took me half an hour to write. Gone.

Thank you, you stupid computer.

Anyway, what I was originally writing about was the fact that I weighed myself at the gym last night, and I lost three pounds in the past week. I've really hit that sweet spot where, between the sensible diet choices, the increased metabolism, and ongoing exercise, I'm building muscle mass and burning fat. I've lost at least ten pounds this summer, and that's without taking into account the weight I've put on with increased muscle mass. Everyone has noticed the change in my appearance and I'm feeling tremendously motivated right now. 

On Saturday, I helped my big sister move out of the spacious and lovely apartment she's been sharing with her two daughters for the past year and a half, and she's now back at her old, beloved stomping grounds in Toronto, off the Danforth. After three years of law school here at the University of Ottawa, my sister has graduated, is almost finished her Bar Admissions Course, and will be starting her articling position with the Newmarket Crown Attorney's Office in September. Although Ottawa is where we were born and raised, my sister has made Toronto her adopted home, and has many friends there (including quite a few who left for there from here earlier in the summer) she has been quite eager to see again.

Unfortunately, my sister encountered all manner of troubles in getting the move to actually happen, though, as the truck she'd reserved a month in advance blew a muffler near Smiths Falls, meaning it wasn't going to be available and the hateful trolls at U-Haul had overbooked their remaining fleet for the weekend. Worse, the new tenants were moving in bright and early Sunday morning, so if my sister wasn't out of her apartment in time, she stood to be potentially liable for any costs incurred plus lots of bad karma. Our mom came up to help her pack and clean, but needless to say nothing was going right and the stresses of moving were high. Fortunately, a truck came in to a U-Haul depot in Russell unexpectedly, and was available for 2pm on Saturday. Additionally, my sister had lots of strong backs to help out (including myself, the girls, our sister-in-law, our cool uncle, Mom, and some friends). And after the move was over (taking about six hours in rain and humidity, up and down winding stairs!), my sister took us all out for a fatty feast at the Royal Oak, where we all indulged in beer and greasy things, and much recharging merriment was had by all.

Yesterday was a civic holiday in Ottawa, so I went out for coffee with my lovely friend Celeste. Among laughs and banter, we also shared some pecan pie at the local coffee shop, and we wandered through the grocery store and bought some ant traps for another friend of mine (ants in August are like robins in Spring) before heading back to my house. Celeste then surprised me with an "intervention" regarding my excessive clutter. I think of myself as rather neat, but I don't have a lot of storage because of the roommate situation at my house, so my bedroom is increasingly overstuffed with clothes and papers and bits and pieces. Since Celeste is well versed in many design shows like "Clean Sweep," she and I set out to better organize my room, and in particular sort out what could stay and what had to go. And yes, this is on top of how much purging I'd already done with the assistance of Celeste and Mélanie earlier on. Continuing to expel my belongings really wasn't too hard, since I'm not particularly materialistic, and even some of the stuff I'd sentimentally packratted away has lost relevance over time. We put out four boxes of junk festooned with happy signs advertising the contents of boxes and promising them as free to good homes, and I was pleased that it all vanished by nightfall. I mean, the junk included my beloved old 386, a working 4MB video card, my hated NEC SuperScript 150 inkjet printer (expensive and increasingly difficult to buy ink for, and poor in print quality and ink economy -- I literally would rather have nothing to print with than continue to use it) and an HP DeskJet that had been thrown in when I bought my classic Macintosh SE for $35 two years ago (and which only worked with older Macs). Oh, and two old keyboards. The fact that I put this stuff out despite holding onto it all for so long is one thing. The fact that people spirited them away quite happily makes that gutsy move even better, since I know they'll get good use.

Then we went through my clothes and filled a garbage bag of clothes to donate, even though I don't buy clothes often and actually have been a regular donor of old clothes throughout the past two years. We also filled up a smaller bag of clothes that really had to be thrown out because: they'd become torn, or gotten too big, or too small, and anyway I hadn't worn them in at least a year. I owe that gal big time. My room looks great right now. Much less cluttered and much less hopeless. I'll have to start doing it more regularly.

One thing Celeste did clarify was that, contrary to what I'd written last week about the complexities of our friendship, she didn't think it was possible I could hurt her. While it may be true that she is a sensitive and insightful person who has been treated quite badly by men in the past and hurt quite a lot, she doubted very much I was capable of inflicting such pain. I admit I am not quite sure if she said this just to set the record straight or because she felt it wasn't a very good excuse to prevent us from dating. I suspect the former.

Meanwhile, my plans for tonight basically include the gym. It's not much, but it is helping me look increasingly fabulous.

Finally -- it's just under a week to Toronto interviews. Cue the tense music and crashing lightning bolts.