August 31, 2006
Women clerking at the Supreme Court ::
legal — tagged gender, legal, politics, SCOTUS and women
9:33 am
This Linda Greenhouse article in the NY Times on the precipitous drop in the number of women clerking at the US Supreme Court came up in conversation yesterday, and Rick asked me to blog about it. I found the article interesting not so much because of its content—as the SCOTUSBlog people and the article itself noted, Volokh Conspiracy already covered the issue of the underrepresentation of women as Supreme Court clerks—but rather because of how many of the Justices provided interviews that appeared to conflict with each other. Like, e.g., Justices Souter and Breyer both suggested that the drop in the number of women clerking simply “reflected a random variation in the applicant pool.” (Oh, and call me crazy, but I didn’t think David Souter, famous for guarding his privacy, even gave interviews.) By contrast, Justice Ginsburg observed the drop inthe number of women clerking for the Court, declined to give any particular reason, and suggested that Greenhouse “ask a justice who has not hired any women for the coming term….” While such a response doesn’t necessarily call up a reaction of oh, snap!, it does suggest a dynamic among the Justices that is, well, a little less than entirely harmonious.
My memory might not be working right and I may be reading too much into the subtext of the article, but I seem to recall that in the Rehnquist era, Justices were much more reticent when asked to provide this type of information on the inner workings of the court. Could this article foreshadow a new and possible more contentious public face of the Court? I guess time will only tell.
August 30, 2006
SF trip rundown/wrap-up ::
travel — tagged california, friends, narrative, san francisco and travel
10:43 am
So, my weekend trip to San Francisco was bookeneded by two extreme travel experinces (I already noted the return trip, and my trip out included a six hour delay at O’Hare) but the trip out to San Francisco to visit Maureen was really fun. I’m glad I went. As I like to do after long trips, here’s a list of the events worth remembering:
1. Landing in SFO after the six hour delay in O’Hare, and being able to get all the way to Noe Valley on the Bart and the MUNI bus system after being awake for something like 18 hours. Then staying up for another three hours catching up with Maureen and meeting her friend Heidi.
2. Driving down the coast on Route 1, visiting beaches that, although they were at high tide, were still beautiful, with a landscape like nothing I’d ever seen before. (It was my first time seeing the non-urban areas of Northern California).
3. Driving further south on Route 1 to buy organic, locally grown strawberries from a farmstand. I also had hot strawberry cider, which was kind of funky and had some serious pulp in it, but it was sweet and I enjoyed it.
4. Driving, somewhat accidentally, all the way to Santa Cruz before heading back to San Francisco on Route 17 (Google map). I remember when I was a skateboarder kid, Santa Cruz stood in my mind as an idyllic, untouchable land where the weather was always warm and the skateboarding was never hindered by winter. Seeing the city was impressive, if only for the realization that it was a real place, with real people in it. Also, there was a nice health food store that carried tasty vegan cookies. And Route 17, with all its twists and turns, is a really fun road to take, especially at high speeds.
5. Making dinner on Saturday night. It included marinated tofu and rice, and was something Maureen put together herself. That always makes me feel better than going out to a restaurant.
6. Walking from Maureen’s place on Elizabeth to the 24th Street Mission Bart station on Sunday morning. There’s something about San Francisco streets on Sunday morning that makes me feel, I don’t know, at peace. I remember feeling the same way the last time I was in San Francisco.
7. Visiting SFMOMA with Maureen, seeing tons of artwork I was familiar with, and some that I was not so familiar with but still enjoyed. There was an extensive exhibit by Matthew Barney (see his Wikipedia article or his flash-intensive website), who is probably one of the most prolific artists I’ve ever encountered. His work, which utilizes all different forms of media, took up almost an entire floor of the museum and included Bjork as one of the subjects/characters, dealt with, among other things, Japanese culture surrounding its whaling industry. I found the whole experience left me numb, but mostly because there was so much to process. Now, two days later, I’m still thinking about it. What that says about its quality, I’m not sure, but I think the exhibit is worth seeing.
8. Taking the ferry to Sausalito. You get an interesting view of the San Francisco skyline that you can’t get anywhere else. Also, I remember seeing the new Bay Bridge as it was being constructed—the new bridge paralelling the old one, extending out only so far into the bay, then abruptly ending. Also, as we got closer to Sausalito we could see the fog come over the mountains, which reminded me of condensed air cascading from the freezer on hot summer days.
9. Being totally exhausted by the time we got back to Maureen’s place on Sunday afternoon. She took a nap, I read a book. Then I got starving and went out for burritos. Came home and dozed on the couch with a cat purring on my lap.
10. Wrapping my mind around the strange weather in San Francisco. There’s no rain there this time of year, just fog. Also, the temperature is actually colder than it is here in Vermont, with daytime temperatures hovering around 65 degrees or so. And it gets cold at night—cold enough for sweaters and furnaces. This is not the California I learned of when I was a child. But of course, you would get out of the city and have to strip all your layers of thermals off start seriously overheating.
And just to give an update on my baggage: as I suspected, it was on the United flight on which I was confirmed, not on the flights on which I flew standby. So I arrived at the Burlington airport at 10 AM today to find my baggage sitting with the others at the airport’s miniature baggage claim area. Not too bad, I must say.
August 29, 2006
Insane travel ::
travel — tagged california, flight, narrative, travel and washington dc
1:25 am
Earlier today I pictured myself in exactly the position I am in right now, awake at nearly 1 AM, typing away on my computer because my body thinks the time is three hours earlier. But the way I got here is totally different than what I had in mind. See, I just got in two hours ago from a trip out to San Francisco to visit Maureen for the weekend. The trip was a lot of fun—I was happy to catch up with Maureen, to meet new people, and to see a part of California I hadn’t seen before, including a pretty long trip down the coast that ultimately landed us in Santa Cruz before heading back North to the city—and getting back home today was a truly and adventure.
It all started when Maureen dropped me off at SFO on her way out of town to LA. I was two hours early for my flight—more than enough time to get checked in, get my baggage checked, and to hopefully spend most of the rest of the time waiting (impatiently) to board the flight. But when I went to check in using one of the computer terminals, I found that my flight had been delayed for so long that I was going to miss my connection. So, the computer rescheduled my itinerary, placing me on a flight that was scheduled to leave at 10 PM (yeah, that’s right. It was six hours later than my original departure time). But the program did put me on standby for another set of flights, the first of which was scheduled to leave SFO at 12:45, which gave me almost no time to get through security and get to the terminal before the plane left.
I made it in time, and I got in on standby. The new plane was a 767, a plane so enormous that looking out the windows somehow made the entire world seem small, even while parked at the terminal. I noted as we taxied toward takeoff that we left SFO late, which meant I had very little time to catch my connection at Dulles. Knowing the connection was likely to be the last one of the day, I tried not to stress out too much at the possibility of being put up in some anonymous, plastic-coated hotel room in suburban Washington, D.C., or worse, spend all night in the United terminal at Washington. So as the plan zig-zagged across the continent, I occcupied my mind by reading, by cataloging the trip, and by trying to find the Clif bar that I’d bought earlier, which had fallen under my seat.
One surreal aspect of flying is that sometimes you find yourself in a city you never expected to be in, that’s thousands of miles away from your planned destination. When you find yourself there, it’s like a vivid dream. Washington/Dulles was like that for me. Also, I wasn’t dressed for the weather. At 9 PM (for me, it was only 6), the temperature was hovering at 90 degrees—roughly 20 – 30 degrees warmer than anything I’d experienced while in San Francisco—and with my long pants and thermal undershirt, I definitely was over-dressed for it. I got off the plane to check the terminal I needed to get to to catch my connection to Burlington, which turned out to be halfway down the next terminal. And the entry was blinking an alert that the flight was boarding. I had to run.
I ran harder than I thought I could. I ran past crew members hustling toward their own flights. I cut between befuddled families who you could swear it was their first time in an airport. At one point, I seem to remember hurdling a roller bag someone had in tow, but it may be my tendency to aggrandize the facts for the sake of a good story. But no matter what, note that nowhere between the C and D terminals in Washington/Dulles are there any fast-tracks, so you must rely on your own athleticism and endurance.
I got to my terminal to find it empty. Desolate. There was one woman at the boarding gate, demanding my name, I told her I was on standby, and then told her my name after she asked for it again. “I called your name, you weren’t here,” she told me. “Late connection,” I replied, feeling oddly like I had something to apologize for. She wrote my seat assignment down on my standby ticket and let me out on the tarmac, where I caught a flight up to Burlington. At the end of it all, I got here an hour earlier than I was originally scheduled to, but my bags didn’t make it with me. I assume, for the sake of my own sanity, that they will arrive tomorrow, on the flight I should have been on had all of this fallen apart at some point. Come to think of it, as I write this, I realize that my bags have just taken off from SFO and are on their way to meet me.
So, earlier today, I thought I’d be in the situation I was in now. But I figured I’d have my checked baggage with me. And that I would have flown through O’Hare, where I would have had a two-hour layover, during which I could have grabbed dinner. So things turned out a little different than I expected—at the end of the day, though, the adventure, and the opportunity to tell the story, made it worthwhile.
August 11, 2006
Summer, continued ::
personal — tagged buffalo, new york, travel and vermont
9:24 am
So, I finally found a place to stay, starting September 1. It’s a shared house in Montpelier, with two other people. The house is north of the city on Elm Street, and is right on the Onion River. It has a nice little back yard with lots of trees, a garden space, and a little lawn furniture set. I look forward to spending the warmer part of September in the back yard, reading. I’d also like to set up a bird feeder, but we’ll see what my housemates think about it.
I’m particularly looking forward to this because I’ve been semi-homeless since I took the bar exam back in July. I have kept my stuff in storage over at Rick and Sarah’s place, and have kept only a minimal amount of clothes, hygiene supplies, and tech equipment (and of course my bike!) with me. I’ve been staying with friends in South Royalton and have been travelling a lot (e.g., my Pitchfork/Milwaukee trip last week) which has made it seem that my life is more like it’s temporarily transitory than totally up in the air. Now that I have a definite end date of September 1, I’m more comfortable with my life, and feel that I can just enjoy my time rather than get stressed out about getting my life in order. Now if I could just find a job.
The weather has been really beautiful here, too. Last week it was hot and humid, weather akin to, as David Foster Wallace has said, living in someone’s armpit. But after a series of wet days the weather finally broke and we’ve had really cool nights (it got down to the 40’s last night) and dry, warm days in which the temperature doesn’t get much above 70. It’s been perfect for bike riding, and I’ve been taking advantage of it, going on 30-35 mile excursions over mountains and through towns I would have never imagined biking to just a year ago. So it’s a great summer, and I will be sad to see it go.
And yesterday I helped a friend move down to New Haven so she can attend Vermont Law’s joint degree program with the Yale School of Forestry and Environmental Studies. She paid and fed me, and even reimbursed me for mileage on my car. And the best part? She was actually packed before we got there, and we got the van packed in less than an hour. The drive down to New Haven was really no problem either, and we got her stuff moved into her place in even less time than it took to get it all into the van (fewer stairs involved in the unpacking phase). It was a fun trip, and it was nice to make a little money. But even better was making new friends, which I’ve tried (with a fair amount of success) to make a recurring theme in my life this summer.
August 6, 2006
Coolest thing I’ve done in quite some time ::
personal — tagged cycling, narrative, personal and vermont
8:42 am
So, I’ve been dealing a lot with cars lately—much more than I’m used to, or particularly comfortable with. But I’ve resolved most of my car related issues over the past two days or so, and I look forward to motorized transportation taking a much less substantial role in my life in the coming weeks.
Here’s the story: my old car, a 1994 Honda Accord EX, has, at 12 years old and with 200,000 miles on it, become not the car I need, given the amount of travel I’ve had to do over the past few weeks and will likely be doing in the near future. To remedy the problem, I worked out a deal with my parents where I would get one of their old cars, and would pay them back once I became gainfully employed. But in order to get their car, which is Buffalo, I had to do some pretty serious planning and logistical maneuvering. The plan I came up with was this: Drive to Burlington, leave my car with friends up there; take a flight to Buffalo; Drive from Buffalo to Chicago for Pitchfork, then drive up to Milwaukee to visit Jeremy; then drive back to Vermont. All that plan worked out just fine, and I got back to Vermont on Wednesday.
But that still left the problem of the old car, which was up in Burlington still. I was fretting about finding someone to ride up with me to pick it up when my friend (and temporary roommate) suggested that I ride my bike up to Burlington to get it. Well, of course! I thought, why don’t I? And so yesterday I did it. I estimated the ride at about 68 miles, up 12 through Randolph and Northfield to Montpelier (2.5 hours), then cutting across 2 up to Burlington (about 3.5 hours). With the half hour or so break I took in Montpelier for lunch, the whole ride took (watch me do the math) six and half hours! Overall it was a much quicker, and much less painful, ride than I was expecting. Next time, I’ll have to take some alternative routes that involve more climbing. But that’s next time.
In any event, I haven’t taken any pictures since the batteries on my camera died during the Mission of Burma set at Pitchfork. Why I can’t get it together to get the damn things charged, I do not know.
August 4, 2006
Oh yeah, and one other thing ::
personal, legal — No Tags
10:21 am
During all the travel and other excitement over the past week, I forgot to mention here that I took the Vermont Bar Exam. How was it? Well, one day consisted of seven hours of essay questions and the other day consisted of six hours of mulitple choice (200 multiple choice in all). So it was about as great as you might imagine. Not much else to report here, other than to say that with any luck, I won’t have to go through the experience again, at least in this state.
Pitchfork, the full treatment ::
travel, personal, photos, music — No Tags
10:19 am
So I suppose this post is coming overdue, but since it’s been less than a full week since I went to the Pitchfork Music Festival writing up my lingering thoughts on the event would not be entirely untimely. That said, I should say that, the more I think about it, the more I think that the Festival was one of the best music experiences I’ve ever had. I felt a strange connection to the music, the particular bands playing there, and even the other people attending the performance. I’d never had that before in the musical context—I suppose that means that I’ve found my people, and possibly that I’ve found myself since the last time I tried going to one of these rigorous, multi-day events.
What specifically about the experience made me come to this conclusion? Well, the temperature both days was unbearably hot and humid, the festival took place on an open field in the middle of the city, and the crowds were enormous. But despite all that, I never once thought about going home early. And now that it’s all over, I find myself already starting to plan for next year’s festival (will there be one, I do not know).
With all that, I decided that I didn’t want this post to be a review so much as a description of what I saw there that was worth remembering. Much of the work I put into this site has been an effort to hang on to my ever-fading memories, so I figure that such a memory-driven post would be more consistent with the overall function of this site than a straight-up review would be. And with that, I’m going to take a page from Jeremy’s book of philosophy, and make this into a list of accomplishments.
That said, my musical highlights included: coming off the Red Line at Ashland to hear Band of Horses playing, their now-familiar guitar riffs echoing off the nearby buildings; seeing The Mountain Goats play, and especially hearing John Darnielle sing the quite apropos—the festival being in Chicago and all—“Cubs In Five” (And the Chicago Cubs/Will beat every team in the league/and the Tampa Bay Bucs/will make it all the way to January/And I will love you again/I will love you/Like I used to…); Seeing Destroyer play his songs live (this was particularly cool for me, because his latest, Rubies, was coming off a little flat for me in the past few months, even though I knew it was a good album); seeing Ted Leo live for like the fourth time; Seeing the Silver Jews tear it up during their first tour ever; seeing Tapes ‘n Tapes live (did I mention I started their Wikipedia entry?); seeing The National play live for the first time (their music, and particularly Alligator, has been a mainstay in my musical rotation over the past three months, and has been a soundtrack for me as I’ve sorted through my current life-in-transition); and of course, seeing Mission of Burma—that just speaks for itself.
The non-music memories for me included: riding the El from Andersonville to Union Square park, watching the train fill up with young, sunburned hipsters with Pitchfork Festival programs under their arms; showing up at the park and seeing multiple levels of bikes chained to the fence; watching storm clouds build up around us and then dissipate; looking at everyone’s shoes; watching people in the crowd interact with each other; photographing photographers; hanging out at the record sale, talking with people from Sub Pop, Touch and Go, and Southern Records; photographing people sleeping (is that rude?); and of course, hanging out at Flatstock.
