Wow, the OC was full of premonitions/memories for me tonight. It's all so clear now. Thank you, Adam Schwarz. Also, if you're reading this (and I can only assume you are, Mr. Schwarz, since you're nearly omnipotent), please don't bring Tre back, that storyline sucked. And by sucked, I only mean in comparison to the other episodes of the OC...it was still better than every episode of television ever created, and life in general.

The girl of my previous posts is coming back!! She requested to work with us on Mondays, which quite conveniently, is my shift. I'm not going to tempt fate. It's tempting me. I made the same mistake in high school and college, and it's time that the trend stopped. I'm actually excited at the thought of making the right decision.

Whether I get rejected or not, I'll know that it's worth the effort...I've spent too much time chasing after the girls that wanted me "in the moment," and not for who I am. I think I'm having a paradigm shift. I'm not saying that there are any "special feelings" typically associated with fluffy clouds, love songs and Democrats. Rather, I'm beginning to recognize who I SHOULDN'T end up with, and it's a good feeling.

So I think I'm paranoid...really paranoid. I'm in the law revue show, and I got stuck with playing Palay, who is a major part of the show. However, I also have six other parts...out of ten or so sketches. I think only Ryan has more parts.

Now I'm not a good actor, and I don't pretend to be. So when I'm getting more and more parts, I have to assume that people are talking about me behind my back. It's really not my doing...I got alot of parts to begin with, not by choice. But I know if it were ME sitting out, I would be talking shit about the guy with all the parts constantly. Then I'd kick me in the nuts. I really hope that the rest of the world isn't like me!

I haven't really slept in about two days. My insomnia is acting up, I think as a result of me being ill. I always have some fucked up nightmares when I'm ill, and last night was no exception. My friend died in it, and although it was by truckasaurous, the death was very real. It disturbed me enough that I couldn't get back to sleep after three. Tonight I'm going to take a sleeping pill and hopefully knock myself into a coma.

On a completely unrelated note, I committed another act of cowardice today. Well, not so much of an act, as it was an inaction. There's this girl that works with me. Undergrad, smart, reserved, not blonde...my type of girl. Anyways, over the last several weeks, I feel that I had developed a repoire with her, and I think she would have considered dating me. Then I heard the bombshell: Her class would interfere with working the rest of the semester, and today would be her last day. She told me this at the beginning of my shift, so I had plenty of time to ask her out. I pussed out, and she walked out of the office while I waved goodbye to her back. It's alot like another encounter I had earlier in life, where I made the wrong choice and ended up with crazy woman instead. I feel like I may still have the chance to remedy the situation...call her up, send an email, wish super hard to see her again, and maybe the existence of my pussiness today won't be important in the long run.

I know I won't do this though. It's a combination of anxiety, self-fulfilling prophecies, and a genetic predisposition towards introvertism. The REAL kick to the nuts came after this girl left. My coworker mentioned to me that I should ask her out because she seemed to like me and we had a REPOIRE. Damnit...hindsight is 20/20 for me, but that 20/20 vision seems to be "present sight" for most people. A little help? Are you with me here?

GARY BUSEY, and some damn robot.

I had a bad day today. Nothing really prompted it, I think I just woke up and decided to be pissed. I was pissed trying to register for summer classes, pissed when my oatmeal got cold, and pissed when my NLP coworker felt the need to critique my navigational skills.

I'm starting to wonder if this is somehow related to my sleep habits. For those that don't know, I'm a pretty strange sleeper. I sleepwalk quite a bit, and in the morning I can tell when I've been up and about, since i tend to be exhausted. Last night I know I was walking around for sure, since I was at one point in my stairwell...sound asleep. I've heard geniuses sleepwalk, and that crazy people sleepwalk. I'm not sure I fit either of those characterizations. My theory is that it's my mind trying to make up for all the inequeties of my conscious life. Maybe I'm trying to get some work done, play some video games (which I've done) or approach life with more confidence (which is supported by the fact that I've made it outside wearing nothing but boxers, in my sleep). Whatever the theory, I hope I stay put tonight, I'm pretty tired, and I can't afford to be a gigantic asshole the rest of the week.

Tomorrow, I get a haircut.

My motivation has been sucked dry. By the prostitute of distraction. Legal Process is such a bullshit class, yet I'm still required to write a 20-page paper. The professor knows full well that every single answer he receives is going to be filled with nothing but bullshit. Except for maybe the tool to my far left, and the cardiologist across the room. But those guys are douchebags, and anyone who provides a thoughtful answer on theoretical jurisprudence obviously can't provide a thoughtful answer on actual practical law. I'm fairly certain that Kaplan would get a much better paper from me if the topic were "Battledome" or "How Who's the Boss is Still Relevant in my life" or even "Correlations between NASA missions, publicity, and Congressional action." (Guess which one was the title of my undergrad thesis?) I wish I were a genius so I could invent a time machine, go back in time, meet Hegel, give him a flashlight (because I imagine that old-fashioned people would be immensely impressed by this), and tell him to write the following: "Leonard Kaplan is a gigantic douchebag." THEN I would have a great paper to write for Legal Process.

So I took a read of the last couple of posts...wow, was that ever depressing. I won't even pretend to have something deep and meaningful to say, because I don't. So I'll just say something about the last couple of days.

Today I helped with a movie for a satirical look at law school. I played a relatively minor part, and frankly, I think it should be cut just because this "professor" isn't very well known and people may not get the reference. It was still fun. In the movie, I was supposed to be attacked by a ninja-like character, with nothing other than a gigantic gavel. While practicing for the gigantic blow to the face (and I use the term "blow" here solely to convey pain), I slammed my head on the desk in front of me pretty hard. It really fucking hurt! Know I have a gigantic knot on my forehead and an excedrin headache.

I did some work for awhile at school (a mix of classwork and client work) then came home and watched the Badgers take on Cornell in an unprecedented six periods of hockey. Naturally, the Badgers won. Thank you, Stocco. In the middle, I flipped Family Guy on and off. I love Family Guy as much as the next person, in fact, probably more than the next person, but the reference to "cutting" at the end really wasn't that funny for me. I guess there's a line, even for FOX programs. Even though I laughed, on the inside.

Tomorrow morning I register for the summer programs. I'm spending the summer in a public defender's office, basically acting as a public defender. It should be awesome, and I'm pumped about having so much responsibility and getting alot of experience. However, I'm nervous on several levels about the whole thing. First, what if I fuck up and somebody goes to jail? My experiences at my clinic this year leads me to believe that supervisors won't necessarily catch mistakes, in fact, they tend to make them worse. Second, what if I do awesome and I find myself with all kinds of job connections? I know this sounds like a weird thing to worry about, but then I'll be stuck in my home county for all eternity. I had a wonderful childhood, but I think it's time for me to move on and establish myself AS myself someplace else. Third, I'm living at home and high school rules are still on. No drinking, excessively late nights, or profound displays of public affection with the opposite sex (not that I'm having any private displays of affection with the opposite sex at the moment anyways). Guess I'll be spending alot of weekends in Madison. It's all good though, I'll have a solid mix of late nights in Madison, and fighting with my dog on the weekdays. Dogs are outstanding.

One of the good things in life to replace the negative thoughts that previously occupied this space!

Edit this [explosion].

I just realized that my previous comment where I said "objection, hearsay" was inaccurate. My comments would be an admission, and NOT hearsay. The proper objection would have been: Objection, stop exaggerating, you exaggerating, cock-mongering sons of bitches.

Also, how come there are never any good pictures of me out there? I'm cutting my hair short so it will never look like that in a photograph again. And those angles made me look WAY skinnier than I actually am. I really can't play my ribcage with a pair of xylophone mallets.

Spring break kicked ass...although most accounts of it are widely exaggerated. Particularly the comments about me puking and pretty much everything I said. Two words: Objection, hearsay. But overall, I had an awesome time.

I returned to Wisconsin and slept for about 12 hours, on my birthday. On that note, I'm now 25 years old. I can run for Congress. How awesome/badass is that? The next day I arose bright and early to go to the ghetto and dispense free legal services. Apparently my supervisor had not checked the voicemail as promised over break, and I had about thirteen thousand and four messages. All of my clients, former clients, prospective clients, people I spoke to briefly on the phone, and Macully Culkin are apparently pissed at me. I patronized several of them, yelled at many more, listened to some obviously crazy people and killed Macully. That's for Home Alone.

The entire time my supervisor was apparently elsewhere, because she clearly didn't file the things I asked her to file, she agreed to file and NEEDED to be filed over spring break. Guess it's my fault now. On the upside, I'm getting used to pissing off the judges early on. Bringing a live tiger to court later on won't seem like such a big deal.

It never fails to amaze me how demanding clients are. Not to glorify myself, actually TO glorify myself, they're getting damn good legal services at the unbeatable cost of free. Try finding a lawyer willing to spend 40 hours a week on a small claims case, odds are, you won't find one. Yet, I get clients calling night and day, TELLING me how things are going to be, and assuming if things don't go perfectly, that it's due to incompetence on my part. Resolved: When I'm a lawyer, I'm only going to represent rich, morally sound, cheerful, and compliant clients. Anyways, it's back to the grind for me...the next few weeks will be "go time" every day.

When Vin Diesel wants to put out a cigarette, he simply flicks it in slow motion into a reservoir of gasoline and walks away slowly, never looking back at the towering inferno erupting behind him.

My trip to Wal-Mart. By Johnny Utah. I went to Wal-Mart to get some badass supplies for my spring break trip. Upon entering my car, I noticed that I was at an eighth of a tank. I decided to remedy said eighth by going to a gas station and pumping in five bucks worth of gas. I arrived at Wal-Mart about ten minutes later. My gas tank was back at an eighth. My first stop was at the toothbri (plural of toothbrush). There were alot of choices, but I decided to go with the one on sale...it has soft bristles. Next, I went to pick up some socks and boxers. The sock excursion went without incident. However, upon looking at the boxers I discovered the Wal-Mart had placed an obviously-repackaged container of boxers back on the shelf...with one dollar off! Wow, if I had wanted a dollar discount on something some dude had already stuck his cock in I would have just...well I won't finish this one, but the punch line ends with "Weston." On a side note, why do they advertise underwear to men with male models? Yes, we all know what boxers look like, having worn them before. If Hanes had really wanted to sell me underwear, they would have put a picture of scantily-clad women on the front. Anyways, back to Wal-Mart. So I bought a pair of shades for five bucks. I know, they're cheap, flimsy, and probably intensify, rather than prevent, UV Rays. However, I looked quasi-badass in them. I did a Zoolander pose (Blue Steel) and some woman with her toddler looked at me like I was nuts. I left said shades department. Next, I went to get some snacks. I picked up gum, skittles, and was looking at pop when an old Wal-Mart woman looked at me, grinned with her crooked, yellowed, dilapedated teeth, and told me that "that stuff [pop] would rot my brain. I put the pop back. Next I went to the checkout, where I discovered that the only register without a wait of infinity-billion minutes was the self-checkout. Now I am by no means a cashier, so I took a few minutes to scan my propertizzle. Behind me was a kid, probably no more than 12 who said "shiiit, hurry the fuck up." Needless to say, that ended with a vicious roundhouse to the skull. Just kidding. The roundhouse was to the chest. Finally, I found my car, drove home, and ended up under an eighth a tank of gas.

Jimmy Cooper Sandy Cohen

I'm going through hella-mad withdrawal from the OC at this moment. Four weeks and I already have the shakes. Now I know what Kanye West was talking about when he spoke of "18 years" as a bad thing. For those of you who think the OC is lame, it's still not too late for an abortion. Above is a picture of Sandy Cohen, the man I hope to one day become. Public defender with a full head of hair who married into an ultra-rich family in California. Did I mention his wife is hot? I have a ways to go though.

Right now, I'm most like Jimmy Cooper (pictured above, left). Hesitant, impulsive, driven, and absolutely incapable of forming a coherent non-stuttering chain of words around most women. I even got attacked like Jimmy did. Granted, it was by a homeless guy and not a loan shark I had failed to repay, but since the homeless guy had demanded 50 cents and I was unwilling to pay, the similarities are astounding.

So why do I want to be Sandy over Jimmy? To any true OC fan, the answer is obvious. Jimmy's life is a series of blunders. He screwed up his investments, embezzled money to cover it up, and lost all credibility in the community as a result of his impulsiveness. Not that I would do that, nor do I think that Jimmy is a bad person for making mistakes. However, it demonstrates one character trait that I most definitely do not want: the constant need to conform to the "norm" wrecked Jimmy's chances at true happiness. Blunders aren't the bad thing, it's the thought that they're unavoidable in order to keep the life you "should" have.

So in sum, I guess I'm alot more like Sandy Cohen than I thought. Jimmy at the surface, Sandy to the core. I just need to let my inner Sandy surface. Oh, and I need to learn to surf.

So I swore a blood oath never to do this. Only losers spend time in front of computers lamenting about their observations and life in general. So here I am. Fuck. Normally I have alot to say, but people end up not listening. But as long as this computer is my robot servant, so be it, it will listen to me.