the daily snivel
You simply must see this.
Due to my highly tragic lack of cable, I really only watch three or four television shows on any kind of regular basis: The Daily Show, The Colbert Report, The Simpsons, and (thanks to the diligent videotaping done by my very dear friend Natalie) the new Battlestar Galactica. In reality, the television gets turned on so infrequently in my house that I probably only see an hour or two of television in the average week.
That said, I am fanatically devoted to my Simpsons and my Galactica, and now a brilliant artist by the name of Dylan Meconis has crossed the two television shows by drawing the main cast of Galactica as though they were in an episode of the Simpsons. It translates really well and you simply must see it for yourself.
Take a look here and prepare to smile a big jonesed-out nerdy smile.
Wednesday, January 10, 2007 That said, I am fanatically devoted to my Simpsons and my Galactica, and now a brilliant artist by the name of Dylan Meconis has crossed the two television shows by drawing the main cast of Galactica as though they were in an episode of the Simpsons. It translates really well and you simply must see it for yourself.
Take a look here and prepare to smile a big jonesed-out nerdy smile.
Consider it a date...
I learned recently that a lovely friend of mine was so displeased with her old cell phone and its unfailing talent for dropping calls during the middle of a conversation (it was a Motorola V220, just like my current phone) that she actually threw it against a wall and happily destroyed it. I've found that people either love or hate this phone. I've personally had no problems with it, but then I deliberately purchased it because it was the cheapest flip phone I could possibly find, and I knew full well that would entail a bit of compromise. For example, it has the worst digital camera going. Everything I try to photograph is blurry and embarrassingly low-res, not to mention the fact that some microscopic scratch or piece of dust has permanently found a place on the lens such that a big weird dark blob appears just off centre in whatever the focus of your photograph is (and thus is the world deprived of pictures of my penis).
But I digress.
I approve of smashing cell phones in general. People still have little concept of proper manners when using their phones in public, and I'm amazed at how ubiquitous they've become. For some time I was keeping up a collection of cell phones that I actually found abandoned on the road (I thought this really said something about the disposable nature of cell phones, though whenever it was possible to track down the owner I would do so) with the express intention of smashing them and making some big Artistic statement about the whole thing, but as time passed my creative whims flowed elsewhere and I was left with what was essentially just hazardous waste containers with good industrial design -- which were recycled in due course.
Anyway, the reason I got my original cheap ass phone was because I was moving back to Ottawa from Toronto and, having only a friend's house to fly to, there was really no way to get a land line, and no sense in doing so given how much time I'd be spending at work anyway. Now that I'm in my swanky apartment, it still makes sense just to have the one mobile phone.
My aforementioned friend asked me to give her dibs on smashing this phone just as soon as my current contract was up sometimes next fall and I found a replacement. For some time I was thinking (being a lawyer and all) that my next phone would be a Blackberry. As of today, however, I know what my next telephone will be.
As soon as this is released in Canada, we have ourselves a V220 smashing date.
No buttons. Touch screen interface. Wide screen video playback. 2.0 megapixel camera. Wireless internet browsing. Integrated e-mail and virtual keyboard.
Honestly, I had a hard time believing the rumours that Apple would create its own mobile phone because it was hard for me to conceive of how they would differentiate themselves in a bloated market, but now that they've done it I have to admit: I was wrong. That is one goddamn nice phone.
Thursday, January 04, 2007 But I digress.
I approve of smashing cell phones in general. People still have little concept of proper manners when using their phones in public, and I'm amazed at how ubiquitous they've become. For some time I was keeping up a collection of cell phones that I actually found abandoned on the road (I thought this really said something about the disposable nature of cell phones, though whenever it was possible to track down the owner I would do so) with the express intention of smashing them and making some big Artistic statement about the whole thing, but as time passed my creative whims flowed elsewhere and I was left with what was essentially just hazardous waste containers with good industrial design -- which were recycled in due course.
Anyway, the reason I got my original cheap ass phone was because I was moving back to Ottawa from Toronto and, having only a friend's house to fly to, there was really no way to get a land line, and no sense in doing so given how much time I'd be spending at work anyway. Now that I'm in my swanky apartment, it still makes sense just to have the one mobile phone.
My aforementioned friend asked me to give her dibs on smashing this phone just as soon as my current contract was up sometimes next fall and I found a replacement. For some time I was thinking (being a lawyer and all) that my next phone would be a Blackberry. As of today, however, I know what my next telephone will be.
As soon as this is released in Canada, we have ourselves a V220 smashing date.
No buttons. Touch screen interface. Wide screen video playback. 2.0 megapixel camera. Wireless internet browsing. Integrated e-mail and virtual keyboard.
Honestly, I had a hard time believing the rumours that Apple would create its own mobile phone because it was hard for me to conceive of how they would differentiate themselves in a bloated market, but now that they've done it I have to admit: I was wrong. That is one goddamn nice phone.
Who's to blame?
There's an interesting post up at Pandagon, a daily must-read for me, about the way society continues to treat women who are rape victims as though they were responsible for their own rapes. Quoted there is an article by one Liz Funk published in a recent edition of Women's eNews ostensibly about the gender dynamics involved in "ladies nights" at bars and clubs, resulting in situations where bars lure women inside with cheap drinks and no cover charges as bait to bring in the paying male customers.
The article loses focus and coherence, however, by ultimately suggesting that women who go out to drink and have a good time inevitably face the implied consequence of sexual assault and that the only safe place for them to be is at home.
The article ends with a discussion of alcohol-related rape and a sensationalistic tale of an 18-year-old New York woman who went to a club, got really drunk, walked home alone and was subsequently raped and murdered. The article went to so far as to mention she was "disemboweled."
Amanda Marcotte at Pandagon sums up her outrage well in a letter to the editor of Women's eNews I'm quoting here:
There's every reason for every person to take precautions for their personal safety in this day and age, but slut-shaming and victim-blaming is is unacceptable. And yet it's surprisingly alive and well. Some of the commentary from male readers has to be seen to be believed. In a follow-up article posted to Alternet, one commenter wrote:
Quoth another:
The criminal law in Canada makes it very clear that at a trial for sexual assault, the character and the sexual history of the victim is completely removed from the question of the guilt or innocence of the accused. There is good reason for this, because there is a long and sad history of defending allegations of rape and sexual assault by suggesting that the victim was, basically, a slut. These attitudes are entrenched even in the legal system. At an appeal of a seminal sexual assault trial in Canada, known as R. v. Ewanchuk, Justice McClung of the Alberta Court of Appeal was soundly rebuked for writing:
It is irrelevant what the victim wore, how much the victim drank, or whether he or she is sexually active. More than that, it is generally off the table. You cannot go there at the trial stage (though of course police all too often ask questions of that sort, and many victims feel re-victimized in going through that interrogation). What is relevant is whether the complainant gave true (as opposed to "implied") consent to the sexual contact. While an accused can avail himself or herself of the defence of having an "honest but mistaken belief in consent," it seems clear now that the silence of the complainant is not sufficient to create the impression he or she is consenting. A sexual encounter requires a party wishing to initiate contact to get an express indication of consent from the other party.
Sexual assault doesn't just involve forced intercourse. The Supreme Court of Canada has defined it as any unwanted touching of a sexual nature. It's contact that interferes with your bodily and sexual integrity that you haven't consented to. That can be a kiss, a pat on the bum, or it can be vaginal penetration.
When I went out to schools to teach grade 7 and 8 students about sexual assault law in Canada through LEAF in my law school days, an almost impossible question that you always got was "does that mean my mom is sexually assaulting my dad every time she kisses him without asking?" The kids are smart. And you honestly have to laugh and say, "probably, yes." But that gets the kids thinking too. There's no reason to draw lines and complicate the issue when talking about bodily integrity and the fact that no one deserves to be sexually assaulted and everyone has the right to say "No," regardless of where they are or what they are wearing.
While there's nothing romantic in asking someone permission to touch them, consent isn't a given, ever. After all, you can still be raped even when you're married. The fact is that people negotiate these kinds of boundaries for themselves in relationships without resorting to explicit formalities (and thankfully that works most of the time or else the courts would be clogged), but even so, people aren't always in the mood, and you can still choose not to consent to sex whether you've been married for 17 years or you're on your well into your third date and you've been kissing for twenty minutes back at his place.
So who is to blame for sexual assault? Is getting drunk at a club really akin to leaving a nice car unlocked in a bad neighbourhood with the keys in the ignition? Of course not. First of all, if someone commits a crime, they are no less morally or legally culpable because they say they came across an easy target We reinforce rape myths all the time, however, in a destructive attempt to foist responsibility for the crime entirely upon the victim. Secondly, you cannot substitute the intention to go out and have fun with the intention to be raped. It is not an invitation. Alcohol diminishes inhibitions and it diminishes the ability to actively resist or express a lack of consent. It does not diminish the responsibility of the person accused of sexual assault in Canada, or most common law jurisdictions.
Let me emphasize. Caution is appropriate. Precautions are wise. This is true when in the shower at home (where more accidents happen) or when I'm walking home at three in the morning from work. But bad things can happen to you wherever you are, and however you try to protect against them, and suggesting that the solution to alcohol-related rape is for women to stay home and not go out and certainly never to drink or wear sexy clothing, is stripping away freedoms and reinforcing the privilege men have to be out at all times and do whatever they please without question. It is one-sided and it is wrong.
Not all men are rapists. Most are not. But most sexual assaults are committed by men. Worse, most are committed by men who are known to their victims. That reality is part of why blaming rape on women who go out to bars is such a fallacy. And even for those who do, sometimes despite your best precautions things do happen. You could be drinking cranberry juice all night, only to have someone put a roofie in your drink. You may leave with someone you've met, only to have them turn on you and force you into something you don't want at all.
Speaking as a man, I think we do have a responsibility to obtain consent before sexual encounters. Our society is hypocritical about sex, tolerating male promiscuity while punishing the same in females. The questions that are asked to rape victims are never asked to their attackers. And in general, men are not asked to explain themselves when out at a particular time or place even when we ourselves are the victims of violent crime.
When I meet someone attractive, and we hit it off, I'm careful to obtain consent. I make sure that what I'm doing is OK. It isn't always romantic but it shows I respect the person I'm with. And I'm not so desperate for sex that I'd try to take someone home I didn't think was capable of consenting because she was so drunk she lacked the judgment she'd normally have -- and if I did do that, I'd be the person worthy of blame, not her.
And when all that's said, there's nothing wrong in women going out to a bar and wanting to get laid that night, just as there's nothing wrong when a group of guys go out just to have a beer and a laugh. People like to go out and have fun and should have the freedom to do so. People also crave sexual contact, and that too is natural. And we've all had the beer googles on at one time or another when flirting at the local watering hole, and there's nothing inherently wrong with that. The problem is that despite all the good intentions and precautions, people often get more liquored up than they intended to, and inhibitions and judgment become impaired. Alcohol is dangerous. And you can either be a decent human being in that situation or you can be a predator. Obtain consent. Be respectful. When in doubt, get a phone number and then send that attractive drunk person home in a cab, and ask them out some time. The fact that someone is too drunk to fight you off won't do you a bit of good when the cops get involved. And you are the one who will be held to account -- at least that's how I like to think the law works.
It is not hard to get laid in this world. I'm a chubby, poor, busy, lawyer, and even I can find attractive people who want to have sex with me. No one has any excuse for relying on violence or alcohol or other intoxicants to obtain sex. That has nothing to do with lust and everything to do with hating and dehumanizing women and their sexuality. So I think it's time for all of us, but especially men, to take responsibility for our actions and put respect for oneself and for women, and obtaining consent before sex, on the forefront.
That's how real men do it.
Monday, January 01, 2007 The article loses focus and coherence, however, by ultimately suggesting that women who go out to drink and have a good time inevitably face the implied consequence of sexual assault and that the only safe place for them to be is at home.
The article ends with a discussion of alcohol-related rape and a sensationalistic tale of an 18-year-old New York woman who went to a club, got really drunk, walked home alone and was subsequently raped and murdered. The article went to so far as to mention she was "disemboweled."
Amanda Marcotte at Pandagon sums up her outrage well in a letter to the editor of Women's eNews I'm quoting here:
As a long time reader of Women’s eNews, I was deeply disappointed to read “Underage Women Sidle Up to Barroom Risks” by Liz Funk, an article that seemed to serve no other purpose than to fuss over young women having the audacity to go out and have fun dancing and drinking in the clubs as if they were, shocker, young women. The article went from merely irritating and disappointing to outrageous, though, when Funk finished the article by implying that the cause of date rape is women behaving like this. Since when is it feminist to blame rape victims for being too seductive or free in their movements? Rape is caused by rapists, end of story. If you’re interested in chastising someone for partying behavior that leads to rape, save your vitriol for young men who drink and use that as an excuse to commit rape. Feminism is about more, not less freedom for women. Shame on you for engaging in the ancient tradition of blaming the victim for rape.
There's every reason for every person to take precautions for their personal safety in this day and age, but slut-shaming and victim-blaming is is unacceptable. And yet it's surprisingly alive and well. Some of the commentary from male readers has to be seen to be believed. In a follow-up article posted to Alternet, one commenter wrote:
If a woman over 21 years of age becomes intoxicated and is taken advantage of, it is her fault. Women are responsible for looking after themselves.
Quoth another:
I don't see how anyone can claim that the victim of a crime of convenience bears no responsibility. I'm not talking about moral blame, here, but come on:
If you leave the keys in your car in a bad neighborhood, how can it be the case that you didn't contribute to the virtually inevitable theft?
If you go on vacation and let your mail pile up, leave your blinds open so all your valuables can be seen from the street and don't lock your doors, can you claim with a straight face that you're totally non-responsible for the ensuing burglary?
If you go with a complete stranger to an isolated, private location while in an impaired and vulnerable condition, can you sincerely say you've made no mistakes?
There's crime (like rape), and that's morally wrong; you might even say evil. But enabling criminals, making oneself an easy target: where I come from, we call that stupid. Stupidity may not be a sin, but it can and should be recognized, pointed out and condemned.
The criminal law in Canada makes it very clear that at a trial for sexual assault, the character and the sexual history of the victim is completely removed from the question of the guilt or innocence of the accused. There is good reason for this, because there is a long and sad history of defending allegations of rape and sexual assault by suggesting that the victim was, basically, a slut. These attitudes are entrenched even in the legal system. At an appeal of a seminal sexual assault trial in Canada, known as R. v. Ewanchuk, Justice McClung of the Alberta Court of Appeal was soundly rebuked for writing:
...it must be pointed out that the complainant did not present herself to Ewanchuk or enter his trailer in a bonnet and crinolines. . . . she was the mother of a six-month-old baby and, along with her boyfriend, she shared an apartment with another couple...the sum of the evidence indicates that Ewanchuk's advances to the complainant were far less criminal than hormonal...In a less litigious age going too far in the boyfriend's car was better dealt with on site with a well-chosen expletive, a slap in the face or, if necessary, a well directed knee."
It is irrelevant what the victim wore, how much the victim drank, or whether he or she is sexually active. More than that, it is generally off the table. You cannot go there at the trial stage (though of course police all too often ask questions of that sort, and many victims feel re-victimized in going through that interrogation). What is relevant is whether the complainant gave true (as opposed to "implied") consent to the sexual contact. While an accused can avail himself or herself of the defence of having an "honest but mistaken belief in consent," it seems clear now that the silence of the complainant is not sufficient to create the impression he or she is consenting. A sexual encounter requires a party wishing to initiate contact to get an express indication of consent from the other party.
Sexual assault doesn't just involve forced intercourse. The Supreme Court of Canada has defined it as any unwanted touching of a sexual nature. It's contact that interferes with your bodily and sexual integrity that you haven't consented to. That can be a kiss, a pat on the bum, or it can be vaginal penetration.
When I went out to schools to teach grade 7 and 8 students about sexual assault law in Canada through LEAF in my law school days, an almost impossible question that you always got was "does that mean my mom is sexually assaulting my dad every time she kisses him without asking?" The kids are smart. And you honestly have to laugh and say, "probably, yes." But that gets the kids thinking too. There's no reason to draw lines and complicate the issue when talking about bodily integrity and the fact that no one deserves to be sexually assaulted and everyone has the right to say "No," regardless of where they are or what they are wearing.
While there's nothing romantic in asking someone permission to touch them, consent isn't a given, ever. After all, you can still be raped even when you're married. The fact is that people negotiate these kinds of boundaries for themselves in relationships without resorting to explicit formalities (and thankfully that works most of the time or else the courts would be clogged), but even so, people aren't always in the mood, and you can still choose not to consent to sex whether you've been married for 17 years or you're on your well into your third date and you've been kissing for twenty minutes back at his place.
So who is to blame for sexual assault? Is getting drunk at a club really akin to leaving a nice car unlocked in a bad neighbourhood with the keys in the ignition? Of course not. First of all, if someone commits a crime, they are no less morally or legally culpable because they say they came across an easy target We reinforce rape myths all the time, however, in a destructive attempt to foist responsibility for the crime entirely upon the victim. Secondly, you cannot substitute the intention to go out and have fun with the intention to be raped. It is not an invitation. Alcohol diminishes inhibitions and it diminishes the ability to actively resist or express a lack of consent. It does not diminish the responsibility of the person accused of sexual assault in Canada, or most common law jurisdictions.
Let me emphasize. Caution is appropriate. Precautions are wise. This is true when in the shower at home (where more accidents happen) or when I'm walking home at three in the morning from work. But bad things can happen to you wherever you are, and however you try to protect against them, and suggesting that the solution to alcohol-related rape is for women to stay home and not go out and certainly never to drink or wear sexy clothing, is stripping away freedoms and reinforcing the privilege men have to be out at all times and do whatever they please without question. It is one-sided and it is wrong.
Not all men are rapists. Most are not. But most sexual assaults are committed by men. Worse, most are committed by men who are known to their victims. That reality is part of why blaming rape on women who go out to bars is such a fallacy. And even for those who do, sometimes despite your best precautions things do happen. You could be drinking cranberry juice all night, only to have someone put a roofie in your drink. You may leave with someone you've met, only to have them turn on you and force you into something you don't want at all.
Speaking as a man, I think we do have a responsibility to obtain consent before sexual encounters. Our society is hypocritical about sex, tolerating male promiscuity while punishing the same in females. The questions that are asked to rape victims are never asked to their attackers. And in general, men are not asked to explain themselves when out at a particular time or place even when we ourselves are the victims of violent crime.
When I meet someone attractive, and we hit it off, I'm careful to obtain consent. I make sure that what I'm doing is OK. It isn't always romantic but it shows I respect the person I'm with. And I'm not so desperate for sex that I'd try to take someone home I didn't think was capable of consenting because she was so drunk she lacked the judgment she'd normally have -- and if I did do that, I'd be the person worthy of blame, not her.
And when all that's said, there's nothing wrong in women going out to a bar and wanting to get laid that night, just as there's nothing wrong when a group of guys go out just to have a beer and a laugh. People like to go out and have fun and should have the freedom to do so. People also crave sexual contact, and that too is natural. And we've all had the beer googles on at one time or another when flirting at the local watering hole, and there's nothing inherently wrong with that. The problem is that despite all the good intentions and precautions, people often get more liquored up than they intended to, and inhibitions and judgment become impaired. Alcohol is dangerous. And you can either be a decent human being in that situation or you can be a predator. Obtain consent. Be respectful. When in doubt, get a phone number and then send that attractive drunk person home in a cab, and ask them out some time. The fact that someone is too drunk to fight you off won't do you a bit of good when the cops get involved. And you are the one who will be held to account -- at least that's how I like to think the law works.
It is not hard to get laid in this world. I'm a chubby, poor, busy, lawyer, and even I can find attractive people who want to have sex with me. No one has any excuse for relying on violence or alcohol or other intoxicants to obtain sex. That has nothing to do with lust and everything to do with hating and dehumanizing women and their sexuality. So I think it's time for all of us, but especially men, to take responsibility for our actions and put respect for oneself and for women, and obtaining consent before sex, on the forefront.
That's how real men do it.
In with the new
I'm sure that I am not alone in having a perennially hard time adjusting to the passage of another year. For the next month, I will be struggling not to enter "2006" as the current date whenever writing something down at work, and otherwise struggling with the shock of the passage of time as though I had been frozen in ice only to unexpectedly be thawed out and woken up a year later.
Perhaps my difficulty is due to the two-fold nature of the transition; each December, I get another year older on Christmas Eve, just a week before the New Year's Eve arrives. So it is that I'm dealing with being XXXI (31) years old just as 2007 hits, and I'm left wondering how it is that 30 (and 2006) flew by so darn quickly.
On the other hand, I don't feel at all bad about the change... it's more that it's odd that the transition came without me ever seeming to get the chance to settle into things the way they were. I'd much rather be 31 than 21, for example, and in terms of a new year coming, well, at least I'm in a pretty good place in my life. If it were a few years earlier, I'd have to go through all the horror of George Bush and Steven Harper gaining ascendancy all over again. And if it were a few years later, I'd probably be ushering in my 37th birthday hiding in a basement while the Cylon army created by a tragic convergence of Windows Vista bugs crushed bleached human skulls with their mighty steel feet on the surface above as they marched on a grim campaign of death and destruction. So we'll call this the happy medium.
On the whole, I'm extremely happy, too. Thinking back to my New Year's Resolutions for 2005, and then the unwritten ones I'd made for 2006, the past two years have gone extremely well. Toronto didn't work out, but then again I don't feel bad about that. I've smooched some beautiful girls, however spaced apart those episodes may be, and I'm benching up to 250 pounds at the gym. I'm a lawyer now. I have a great job. I have great friends. I call my mother more often (though not yet weekly). I have an awesome apartment.
So here are my objectives for 2007.
First, I'm going to continue going to the gym. I'll aim to go 3-4 times per week, alternating on the weights but doing at least a half an hour of cardio each time.
Second, I'm going to continue my recent, tentative babysteps back into the world of dating. I'd sort of closed that door after coming home from Toronto so that I could recuperate and focus on my busy work life, but I'm in a much better place now and (having watched "The 40-Year-Old Virgin" last night and finding it more than a bit too evocative of the old love life of late) it's clear that I need to flirt more, and meet new people, and smooch more, and unhook more bras. It's also been too long since I've been in love.
Third, I'm going to find a full-time job that I adore. I love what I'm doing at the Clinic, and I have a big appeal to attend in the Divisional Court later this winter (I'll be in my robes and essentially wrote the appeal during my articles, but a senior lawyer will do all the oral arguments), but it's not full-time and the prospect of staying on indefinitely in a legal capacity is very slim. It's time to get out there.
Fourth, I'm getting my bike back on the road -- or I'm getting a new one altogether. I miss cycling so much and I hate busing so much that I'm going to have to suck it up and shell out the clams for a solution.
Fifth, and although I've made great strides on this front, it has to be said: I'm going to continue to make more time for my friends.
Perhaps my difficulty is due to the two-fold nature of the transition; each December, I get another year older on Christmas Eve, just a week before the New Year's Eve arrives. So it is that I'm dealing with being XXXI (31) years old just as 2007 hits, and I'm left wondering how it is that 30 (and 2006) flew by so darn quickly.
On the other hand, I don't feel at all bad about the change... it's more that it's odd that the transition came without me ever seeming to get the chance to settle into things the way they were. I'd much rather be 31 than 21, for example, and in terms of a new year coming, well, at least I'm in a pretty good place in my life. If it were a few years earlier, I'd have to go through all the horror of George Bush and Steven Harper gaining ascendancy all over again. And if it were a few years later, I'd probably be ushering in my 37th birthday hiding in a basement while the Cylon army created by a tragic convergence of Windows Vista bugs crushed bleached human skulls with their mighty steel feet on the surface above as they marched on a grim campaign of death and destruction. So we'll call this the happy medium.
On the whole, I'm extremely happy, too. Thinking back to my New Year's Resolutions for 2005, and then the unwritten ones I'd made for 2006, the past two years have gone extremely well. Toronto didn't work out, but then again I don't feel bad about that. I've smooched some beautiful girls, however spaced apart those episodes may be, and I'm benching up to 250 pounds at the gym. I'm a lawyer now. I have a great job. I have great friends. I call my mother more often (though not yet weekly). I have an awesome apartment.
So here are my objectives for 2007.
First, I'm going to continue going to the gym. I'll aim to go 3-4 times per week, alternating on the weights but doing at least a half an hour of cardio each time.
Second, I'm going to continue my recent, tentative babysteps back into the world of dating. I'd sort of closed that door after coming home from Toronto so that I could recuperate and focus on my busy work life, but I'm in a much better place now and (having watched "The 40-Year-Old Virgin" last night and finding it more than a bit too evocative of the old love life of late) it's clear that I need to flirt more, and meet new people, and smooch more, and unhook more bras. It's also been too long since I've been in love.
Third, I'm going to find a full-time job that I adore. I love what I'm doing at the Clinic, and I have a big appeal to attend in the Divisional Court later this winter (I'll be in my robes and essentially wrote the appeal during my articles, but a senior lawyer will do all the oral arguments), but it's not full-time and the prospect of staying on indefinitely in a legal capacity is very slim. It's time to get out there.
Fourth, I'm getting my bike back on the road -- or I'm getting a new one altogether. I miss cycling so much and I hate busing so much that I'm going to have to suck it up and shell out the clams for a solution.
Fifth, and although I've made great strides on this front, it has to be said: I'm going to continue to make more time for my friends.
