About Me

name: Beanie
age: 35
email: bbbeans@yahoo.com


Book: New York by Edward Rutherfurd

Music: 1999 by Prince

Mood: The current mood of bbbeans@yahoo.com at www.imood.com


Teahouse Blossom
May It Please The Court
Blonde Justice
Ernie The Attorney
Lessig Blog
Evan Schaeffer's Legal Underground
Jeremy's Weblog
Begging The Question
The Neutral Zone Trap
the imbroglio
Biting Tongue
Peanut Butter Burrito
Legal Quandary
In It But Not Of It
A New Duck
Just Playin'
Res Ipsa Eloquent
How Appealing
Lag Liv
Law v. Life
Lowering the Bar
Bag and Baggage
The Uncivil Litigator
Will Work For Favorable Dicta


Divine Angst
Frequent Citations
Magic Cookie
Knocked Up (and in Law School)
Mommy on the Floor
Thanks, But No Thanks
Law Ingenue
No. 634
think like a woman. act like a man.


the underwear drawer
Do Not Overmix
Little Lost Robot
Overheard in the Office


Truth Laid Bear
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Terror Alert Level



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Screaming Bean
Tuesday, February 01, 2005

I've been meaning to write something deep and meaningful, but E.Spat seems to have that sort of thing locked up these days. Not that I mind, because her writing of late has been stupendous...it's just that I feel like I haven't had anything important to write about. With a month down and only a handful more until the end of this merry-go-round, I want to put something out there. It may be a smidge long winded and probably confusing as hell, but hang in.

I enjoy watching motorsports on television. F1, Rally, Nascar, I watch them all. Every January there's a very special race called Dakar. In it, people drive motorcycles, cars, and trucks from a point in Europe (this year it was Barcelona) to Dakar, Senegal. It takes approximately 17 days. It's a race unlike anything on earth. Dunes, camel grass, asphalt, boulders, tiny villages, wet sand, wild animals, blinding sandstorms...the dangers are endless. Two people died this year alone. (OLN had the coverage this year, which was really awful, but that's not the point here.)

The race is a lot like law school. For a rookie, you have no idea what you're getting yourself into. You're cocky, you think you can take on the world and you're wide eyed and bushy-tailed. You're joining 200-300 people just like you who think they have what it takes to win and will push themselves to the limit in order to do so. And so it begins...and things begin happen. Flat tire here, broken gear box there...the more handy and resilient you are the easier you can put it back together again. You roll into the heart of the race and you're not doing fantastic, but you're holding together. Some people have wrecked for good and have had to leave, but you think you can keep it together. You're in the desert, and the sand storms roll in. Blinded and alone you rely on your road book and what guiding marks you can make out. You're running low on gas, sleep, and food. You keep making it to the bivouac, but you begin to wonder why you're out here at all. This all doesn't make any sense, but through a sense of determination, fear, and diligence you keep pushing on to Dakar.

And finally you get there...and you didn't win. But that's okay. Somehow, through the race you have found that you haven't been racing at all, but the race has been working on you. It has left an indelible mark that will never leave. Call it a badge of courage, call it a spot on your soul, the effort has changed you forever. The feeling of danger, panic and loneliness has altered your very being. My race is nearly over now. The car is worse for wear, the parts don't work as well as they used to, sleep is short but the work is nearly done. For those of you still in the desert, know that we're out there looking for you and you too will make it. It's just a matter of time.