One minor annoyance I have with being a law student is that everybody always makes the same comment once they find out that I’m a lawyer in training: “Hey Kev, if I’m in trouble in a few years, you’ll represent me, right?” Har har. It gets funnier the twentieth time you hear it. Quite honestly, I find the comment a little presumptuous. What makes you think I’m going to be a criminal defense attorney to begin with? And if you’re confessing to me about some premeditated felony scheme that requires three years of planning, what makes you think that I would have any interest in becoming your accomplice?

I wonder if people make these kinds of assumptions about all students in the specialized service industry. Speaking on my own behalf, I can say that, whenever I’m introduced to a medical student, my initial reaction isn’t to jump at the opportunity to set up a prostate exam appointment eight years in advance, because I recognize the fact that my new acquaintance might be on a slightly different career track–like, you know, one that doesn’t involve fingers in unsavory crevices. It’s just good manners to learn the details before you start getting friendly with the small talk.

Posted by KZ on 11/29/04

• The word “freedom” doesn’t sound as credible as it ought to when it’s pronounced with a Texas accent.
• Even when you suspect that the party on the other end of the telephone is an automated recording, you shouldn’t go into “back-talking, sarcastic asshole” mode and interject with obscenities until you’re absolutely sure it’s a recording.
• When you’re sick, and your voice deepens, it’s fun to pretend that you’re Henry Kissinger.
• My Henry Kissinger impression sounds more African than German. I’m horrible at accents.
• My salamander doesn’t stare at me from inside his tank because he’s bored. He does it because he likes screwing with me.
• My mom is a closet Homer Simpson fan.
• Outlining your notes during the semester really is better than half-assing it at the end before finals.
• Setting “Still D.R.E.” as the ringtone on your new cell phone is almost as cool as it is lame.
• For the rest of my life, I will never be able to drink Earl Grey tea without thinking about Captain Picard.
• For the rest of my life, I will never once be able to hear the word “penal” without letting my mind wander into the gutter. Come to think of it, that word also reminds me of Captain Picard.
• I just created a stream of consciousness blog entry that references both my mother and a penis joke in almost the same breath. I scare me.

Posted by KZ on 11/24/04

It’s happened to all of us at least some point in our lives. You reenter a room after visiting the restroom, and you find some guy in your seat. You politely ask to reclaim your chair, and the guy stands up, claps you on the arm, and says, “Here ya go, buddy. Just keeping it warm for you.”

I don’t care much for that quaint sentiment of keeping somebody’s seat warm. First of all, it’s an excuse. Nobody ever steals your seat to keep it warm for you. More likely, they’re acting out of self-interest to make themselves more comfortable until you come back. Secondly, maybe this will make me sound like a prude, but I don’t want to think about heat emanating off of somebody’s ass and transferring to the chair by way of some endothermic reaction, only to have that heat retransfer to my own ass when I sit back down. Keeping my seat warm? No thanks, buddy. Either stop drawing attention to your steaming hot ass, or just stay the hell away from my seat.

Posted by KZ on 11/15/04

This morning, I couldn’t help but notice that a female student sitting next to me was wearing too much perfume. It was a pleasant fragrance–slightly citrus, slightly floral, and unmistakably feminine. But there was too much of it to take in, and I found myself growing nauseous and even a little resentful. But even so, I couldn’t get enough of it. As much as it repelled me, I was also strangely attracted to the noxious scent, and I had to fight some base, primal instinct to rush towards it.

The most unsettling thing about this perfume incident is that it represents my life’s experience with women more aptly than I’d care to admit. Am I a closet misogynist, or am I just a scorned lover that loves women far more than he knows he should? It’s an intricate balance, this human condition thing. Sometimes it’s hard to tell where the allegory ends and real life begins.

Posted by KZ on 11/11/04

I was staring out of the window this morning when my train happened to pass an elementary school along the way towards San Francisco. It was recess time, and the playground was sprawling with playing children. In the center of all the activity, I noticed two boys in particular. The taller, huskier boy had a fist raised as if poised to strike, and was advancing slowly on the smaller boy, who backpedaled cautiously with his own arms raised in defensive attrition. They glided in their poses from one end of the playground to the other, engaged in a clumsy, involuntary dance. I wanted desperately to jump off the train and to intervene, but all I could do was gawk stupidly from my seat and hope against the inevitable. They were still dancing when the playground passed entirely from my sight.

What happened beyond that moment, I can only guess. I realize that I’m powerless to affect what actually took place on that playground today, but it still seems a cruel fate to me that the well-being of that smaller boy should depend on the whims of my cynical imagination.

Posted by KZ on 11/04/04

Good job, America. Who needs logic, truth, equity, international support, or even proper grammar when you’ve got pure, unadulterated dogma?

Posted by KZ on 11/03/04