Thus far, my building seems to be surviving the Great Plains Hurricane of 2010. A few particularly strong wind gusts have tested the integrity of my windows, but nothing has shattered yet. Given the inherent unpredictability of Minnesota weather, I’m not sure how to prepare for the next freak meteorological event. Do I stock up for an apocalyptic blizzard or a tsunami? Climate change makes planning ahead so difficult nowadays.
A Boston College law student recently wrote an open letter to the dean requesting a refund in exchange for leaving school without a J.D. The author argues that he shouldn’t be saddled with hundreds of thousands of dollars in student loans at a time when the job market for newly minted attorneys is atrocious. I sympathize with his plight, but I’m not sure I find his argument to have much merit. Law schools make no guarantees about a graduate’s ability to find a job even in the best of economic times. They may brag about job placement rates in their brochures, but any 1L knows that this doesn’t rise to the level of a contractual promise. Law schools are in the business of providing a legal education; what happens after that is largely up to the individual. That service may be vastly overpriced given current employment prospects, but that’s a different argument. College students across the country who are confronting the strong possibility of unemployment or underemployment could make similar demands, but most studies show that college grads have increased earning power over the long run. Law school grads will probably enjoy even greater earning power than college grads over the long term, but that’s admittedly little consolation to those currently searching for work.
My heart has a new desire and it’s name is the Monolith Action Figure. It’s a miniature replica of the mysterious monolith made famous in 2001: A Space Odyssey. Yes, I’m seriously considering playing $12.99 for a black piece of plastic that has no movable parts and doesn’t even light up. These are the depths of geekiness to which I have descended. But my bust of Spock is looking like he could use some company (although the monolith doesn’t look like much of a talker). If I suddenly stop blogging, it’s because I evolved into the Starchild and am off in some distant corner of the galaxy where I’ll be totally blowing the local natives’ minds.
October is National Disability Employment Month here in the U.S., but American gimps aren’t the only ones venturing into the job market. Liz Carr, a columnist for the BBC’s disability-themed Ouch! website, writes about the challenges of adapting to the rigors of a 9-to-5 office job after years of self-employment. She comments on the shock of getting up early, being the only person with a visible disability in the office, and bringing an attendant to work with her every day. Much of it sounds awfully familiar, although the awkward behavior of colleagues that Liz describes is a distant memory for me. Once my team members realized I wasn’t likely to die in the middle of a meeting, they quickly became pretty comfortable in my presence.
A word of advice to Liz as she settles into office life: volunteer to take on some extra assignment that nobody else wants. You’d be surprised how quickly that earns you friends.
I don’t venture outside the Twin Cities very often, so today’s road trip up to Brainerd for a work event was something of a novelty for me. I think I passed more trees and fields in one day than I have in the past couple years of commuting. I’m a city kid at heart, but I can understand the appeal of rural living: the abundance of open space, the slower pace of life, the lower price of almost everything, the intimate familiarity with neighbors. I could probably even learn to tolerate the plethora of Michelle Bachmann lawn signs that litter the landscape. But I would soon miss the conveniences and amenities of my urban existence: art house movie theaters, comic book shops, skyways, and underground parking.
These infrequent day trips are great for appreciating greater Minnesota, but they also remind that home is waiting for me.
Law students don’t have a reputation for spontaneously bursting into laughter, but that’s what happened during a debate at a Delaware law school when Delaware Republican Senate candidate (and avowed anti-onanist) Christine O’Donnell challenged her opponent’s assertion that the principle of separation of church and state is contained in the the Constitution. Her comments prompted a lot of guffaws from the audience, but liberal commentator Peter Daou points out that O’Donnell is simply (if clumsily) repeating a talking point that is popular among Christian conservatives: the words “separation of church and state” don’t appear verbatim in the Constitution, which means the whole concept was fabricated by godless liberals after one of their cocaine-fueled orgies. O’Donnell may not care if the audience laughs at her because she knows she has almost zero chance of winning the election. Instead, she may be burnishing her far-right credentials for a post-election gig as an authoritative voice of the Tea Party.
If that is her strategy, it’s a clever one. The Tea Party needs telegencic spokespersons, but I’m not sure O’Donnell is ready for the Sunday talk show circuit. Silly me; she probably won’t venture far from the Fox News lair.
The Target Center seemed like an odd venue for a Gorillaz show. The arena’s cavernous interior seems better suited to basketball games and Lady GaGa concerts, but I soon realized that the Target Center was better suited to accommodate the sheer number of musicians on the stage. Most Gorillaz fans are familiar with the demented animated characters that make up the “band”, but in a live setting Gorillaz is an eclectic music collective. Last night’s performance included a string ensemble, a brass band, a group of Arab-American musicians, two former members of The Clash, hip-hop artists De La Soul, soul artist Bobby Womack, and, of course, frontman and creator Damon Albarn. The combination of the live show and the animated clips projected on the giant screen behind the musicians generated an exhilarating sensory overload that I can’t recall experiencing at any previous concert.
The whole concert was great, but a few performances stroked my pleasure center just right: a propulsive rendition of “Dare”, a brass interlude during “Broken” that shouldn’t work but somehow does, a bouncy but bittersweet delivery of “On Melancholy Hill”, and a majestic finale in the form of “Demon Days” where the backup singers somehow manage to invoke the grandeur of a church choir.
It’s probably too much to hope for another Gorillaz tour of this scope, but I hope Albarn gives it some thought. He’s one of the few musicians working today who can put together such a sweeping effort and make it look easy.
It looks like we’re finally going to get a filmed version of The Hobbit. The project had been stuck in limbo as attorneys and bean counters for the studios involved worked out a financing deal. Even better, Peter Jackson will be directing and Ian McKellan will be back as the bearded guy in the funny hat. But who will be voicing the dragon Smaug? And will the Battle of the Five Armies be awesome or mind-blowingly awesome? And how long will I have to wait for the extended edition on DVD?
Over at the Bad Cripple blog, William Peace writes about his temporary forced bed rest and how keenly he misses his wheelchair:
I miss my wheelchair, I miss the power it gives me to be independent. I miss the feel of upholstery against my back. I miss pushing against the tires and the intimate knowledge I have as to how I can direct it’s forward thrust. Why I even miss the dirt I collect during the day on the wheelchair frame-an absence my lab misses as my tires clearly pick up smells that are utterly fascinating. I miss watching a scary movie and the way I slightly rock back and forth. I could go on but I miss my wheelchair more than anyone can imagine.
I haven’t been without a wheelchair for more than a few hours in at least a decade, so it’s difficult for me to imagine being away from it for weeks at a time. It certainly wouldn’t take long for me to miss it. My wheelchair and ventilator are probably the two most vital devices in my life, but I feel a connection with my chair that simply doesn’t exist for my vent. The vent is a machine, but my chair is an extension of my personal space.
As an avid fan of scripted television, this new season has been notable for its nearly complete lack of compelling new series. My TiVo is recording only a couple new shows–The Event and Boardwalk Empire. And The Event is dangerously close to losing my interest unless its writers decide to stop futzing around with watered-down science fiction tropes and start actually telling a story that would make me care. The lack of exciting new television isn’t anything to cry about, however. Between returning shows (like Community and Fringe) and Netflix streaming of older shows that I haven’t seen (30 Rock and Dexter), I don’t suffer a lack of video content. I’m sure that something new will eventually grab my attention, but probably not until the spring.