Gimme back my tootsie pop

So I'm on the trial team and it's like a half time job. How long should it take to come up with a few opening statements, closing arguments, and questions for witnesses? About 20 hrs a week for 2 months, apparently. It's like "how many licks does it take to get to the center of a tootsie roll brand tootsie pop?" "I'm a fucking owl, how should I know?" oh, no, wait, that's not what he said. he took the kid's sucker, licked it a few times and ate it. stupid owl. or stupid kid? i'm not sure. but stupid me, anyway. i'm home so little the other day i was at the grocery store and started back to school instead of my house. i didn't want to live here but there you go.

I have a zen buddy who teaches me a lot. Lately the thing is something about hungry ghosts. The idea is that when a hungry ghost comes knocking - the ghost of tired, the ghost of pissed off, the ghost of feeling disgusted, whatever, - you let them in and hug them. I don't know why. I'd rather just not let his ghost ass in. Lately I want to just go hide somewhere anyway and I certainly don't want to go open the door for a stupid ghost. I am not ghost food. I just feel like a ghost myself half the time. It occurs to me that life is making one mistake after another and that sometimes I just really wish something would come out just right. But it never does. There's always a hungry ghost taking away my tootsie pop. Yes, this is whining. I feel like the little kid wandering around in the woods asking a fucking owl questions about a sucker. How did I get here? What happened that left me talking to owls and wanting to hide from hungry ghosts? It's called life, fellas, and there's the door. I guess I'll get my suckers out, feed the owls and let the ghosts come in.

basket speeks

My name is basket and this is pretti much how i spend my dayz. it's grate! my mommi is gone a lot to something she calls law skool. she seems realli stressed out and i think she should lay on ths couch like this a lot more! today i brought her a mous and left it outside the door as a presennt. i kan't kook or pack her lunch becaus i don't have thumms and thot this would be grate but she screemed and just left the mous there. so i was sad! but then i chased sum things and felt better. i think my mom should relax. peeple make things so hard! like when another kat makes me mad then i screem and bite his hed and then when he is not looking i go pee on his stuff. haha. then i lay on the couch or go eat cereal out of a bowl in the kichen. i wish my mommi wud stop going to law skool and just lay on the couch with me. well maybee i will go ketch her a bird and then she will feel better. and then i will take a nap. thanx for lissening and if u r in law skool, tell my mommi to come home!

look out - she's back!

Here's the thing about law school: the rest of your life doesn't stop. It seems like you should get some sort of 'get out of events free' pass while you are going through all of this shit and maybe other people do, but I'm still checking the mail and mine isn't here. For example, last semester my dad got in a horrible car wreck, seemed to get out of the woods, went into some crackhead ass nursing home that almost killed him, then when he could put a sentence together again I got pulled into a trial competition with two weeks to prepare, kicked ass, dusted off my books, then totaled my car. I think I may be working off some karma from a previous life. I must have been a real mean fucker.

I'm on a new trial team now and I have to play both plaintiff and defendant. The plaintiff's case sucks. In real life the D.A. would have never gotten an indictment but this is make believe so there you go. I am figuring out more and more things are make believe, though. Grades are how one professor likes your answer on one list of questions answered on one day. I'm taking business associations now and who is liable for what has a lot to do with how well people lie about how involved they are with what. They trade money that exists on paper and are taxed on cash that didn't trade hands. It makes me feel lost, then I go work on my '75 Datsun or scrub the toilet and I feel human again until I go back to class. Is this going to be what my life is going to be like? Should I drop out and go back to cooking? When you burn the soup, it stinks, and you have to start over, and you know it, and there is really something comforting about that, in spite of the fact that, well, you burned the soup.

If only going to class were symbolic because I can't seem to wrap my head around the fact that we're back at school. I forgot to go to Tax the other day and I forgot to go to another class last week. Obviously, I'm not really into this right now. I also wish I could symbolically smack some people. It might serve to reduce the size of their overbig heads, or at least shut them up, which would also be OK. In general I find people who are full of themselves kind of funny but sometimes the annoyance takes over, particularly when I am tired and don't want to be whereever I am anyway. That's when I want to say things like "It must be great to be so important! Too bad nobody else cares." and "So, are you going to put that on your gravestone?" or "yawn. oh, I'm sorry, I thought you just wanted to hear yourself talk, I didn't know I was supposed to be involved."

Sigh. Anyway, I'm still alive and bitchin' and at least if you don't care, you can click away and read some other cranky fuck's ramblings. I'm stuck here for another three semesters learning more and more about the unreal. All I've got to say is thank god for television.