No Class, No Style, No Social Skills, No Comprehension

the past few weeks, my first as a full-time employee, have left me in a state of shock. shocked at the lack of professionalism of my peers. and shocked that, as the queen of flip-flops, skull t-shirts and disheveled hair and the girl who is not afraid to send the occasional offensive word to the law school dean, i even care about professionalism.

yet here i am. an attorney. confronted by people who constantly disparage the lawyers, judges and law enforcement officers with whom they work most closely. who lack respect for the justice system as a whole. who can't open their mouth without severely offending someone's grandmother. and who fail to adhere to even the most basic aspects of professional dress. (not once, but twice this week, attorneys in my class have arrived in transparent white shirts and black bras. and crocs ... when did that become proper courtroom attire? apparently, the eyeful of bosom i got in week 1 of training was just a preview.)

i've heard people say that i don't handle authority well. not true. i can behave, i just often choose not to. for example, this week alone, i violated all rules of fashion when i gladly wore my paper burger-flipper hat from in-n-out across town. i wore my 3D glasses home from the movie theater. and i made my own t-shirt for the fall-out-boy concert (appropriately paired with heavy eyeliner and black lipstick). i even managed some outraged what-you-looking-at glares at the passersby who braved a second glance. but really, why sacrifice entertainment for conformity when all that's at risk is a little embarrassment when i realize that people are only staring because i look RIDICULOUS?

however, no one is relying on me to defend their constitutional rights when i do my grocery shopping in my best clemson sweatshirt and ASU sun devil horns. i don't have to convince a judge to release my client on bail when i go out for a drink after applying 14 layers of glitter eyeliner. i am not forging lifelong professional relationships with the clerk at the bass pro shops when i ask him to take a picture of me molesting a rubber chicken. and there is no rule 32 claim for ineffective assistance of counsel hanging over my head when i jump on the carousel in violation of the weight limit.

trust me people, if i can suck it up and put on a suit and heels every day, if i can bite my tongue at the incompetence of others, and if i can sacrifice "right now" for "the right time," anyone can. this is a job, not spring break.

p.s. thank you wheatus, for providing the inspiration for the title of this post.

Women Are From Omicron Persei 7

yes, that is a line from futurama. i'm awesome, i know.

now that i've started my first real job, my inspiration has bottomed out. i get up in the morning, blow out my hair, tuck my shirt in, put on eyeliner and heels, and go to my very own office. i run back and forth between the court, the jail, and the county attorney's office, looking serious and important and clutching my new bible: arizona juvenile law and practice. i have become mainstream. even though i feel like i'm from omicron persei 8, living 2400 miles away from all places i've ever called home (and have said goodbye to good ol' southern hospitality) and still the youngest person in the room (miraculously, since i continue to get older) and with no criminal law experience.... who ever thought it would come to this? i iron my clothes. i take a vitamin every day. i read the news while i eat my cheerios. what is there to say?

Public Defender, Day 2

my last two days of training at the public defender's office have been peppered with moments of panic.

the extremely-inappropriately-dressed/boobalicious attorney who talked to us yesterday was outraged at the statutes requiring mandatory jail time for fourth-time convictions... of prostitution, domestic violence, DUI.

you know, at some point, a person deserves to serve a few months in jail. possibly at the point which that person is convicted four times for the same crime. STOP BEATING YOUR WIFE.

thankfully, the presenters today were a little more encouraging. apparently, the PD's office is split into 2 camps. members of the 1st feel that their duty is to protect the client's civil liberties, i.e. keep them out of jail, at all costs. NOT inspiring. although i definitely believe in protecting my clients' constitutional rights, there is no constitutional right to avoid the penal system. especially if you did it.

those in the 2d try to do what's best for the client. this will be me. sometimes this means letting him stay in jail -- for example, when there's a high chance that releasing them from custody will just lead to another arrest or to give him a chance to sober up. sometimes this means doing a little extra digging and sticking your neck out on a long-shot motion. sometimes this means passing up a decent plea deal just so your client can satisfy some inner need to go down fighting. or pulling some strings so he doesn't have to admit his guilt in front of his mother.

so i feel a little bit better ... when i'm not worried about the fact that my clients' futures rest in the hands of someone with zero trial experience and only a very basic knowledge of criminal law, at least i have a chance to do something worthwhile with this degree...

Masochism

today i hiked 7 summits in phoenix totalling 22.5 miles and 6000 vertical feet on 4-1/2 hours of sleep. and 11.25 of those miles were uphill. it is one of the most miserable things i've ever put myself through. in fact, the only point at which i felt like i may NOT be a complete lunatic was when the mountainbikers zoomed by me down that incline on a dirt path about 2 feet wide. on my 4th hike, i decided i'd had enough. and although i acknowledged that i had nothing to prove to anyone, instead of packing it in for the day and heading home for a nap and some sunday afternoon nostradamus-history-channel-special, i decided i just needed to move faster. the faster i got to the top, the sooner i could start back down. the faster i made it down, the sooner i could make it to the next trailhead. and the faster i finished all 7, the sooner i could go home to a shower and perfume and pink sheets and advil. contrary to popular (aka huy's) belief, it had nothing to do with feeling accomplished. i wanted to go home. and, as with most things, i wanted it NOW.


i felt like lewis & clark. or any other explorer that spent a lot of grueling time on the trail moving quickly before winter set in or something. more like oregon trail i suppose. except without the benefit of oxen or any refreshing rivers to ford. but anyway, from now on, i'll stick to leisurely day hikes where i can enjoy the scenery and the weather. and can move my legs the next day.


huy accompanied me to the celebratory dinner at the phoenix zoo where, as usual, i was on my best behavior.