It is the 17th of November (well, it's not, but I am future-posting this). A quite normal day for many of us. For me however...

It has been exactly one month since I joined E2!

It has been two rather hectic months, in which I have gone from being a nobody here on E2, to still being a nobody. However, I have grown to become a rather noticable nobody, and I feel that I have managed to contribute to the E2 as a whole.

But not only have I done what I can to improve E2, I have also changed quite a lot myself. I have always been a photographer... That means that I always walk about looking at things from different angles. Seeing if I can turn something into a photo.. Freeze time in a way nobody has frozen time before.

Well.. I still do that. Except now, I keep looking around me, wondering if I can node as well. Sad, isn't it :)

Proofs that I have become an E2 addict:

But.. Of course.. the ultimate proof...

  • In 30 days, I have noded 111 writeups. (woo!)

I'm quite aware that certain people have done loads more noding in lots shorter time.. But, in a horribly selfish and arrogant way, I am still proud of myself.

ONE MONTH DOWN.. and.. eh... loads of months to go :)

oh yeah.. to celebrate this, I have updated my homenode a wee bit

Two days ago, I flew from Minneapolis to Los Angeles for trial. My attorney has been in court since Thursday. I went on Friday, as it's better if I'm there for as much of the case as I can stand.

I arrive in court around 11am. I see my codefendants, two young men in slacks and dress shirts, for the first time. My attorney is standing up front with a blackboard with a map drawn on it.

My attorney and the attorneys of my two codefendants are making a motion to have some, if not all, of the charges against us dropped. My attorney is interviewing the officer in charge on the day of my arrest. The prosecutors keep objecting to her questions, saying she's leading him, which she isn't. The judge, who is not paying attention, sustains. The officer, one Commander George, is lying. He's saying that the police didn't make the demonstrators go anywhere specific, and didn't expect them to go south on Pine, which is where they were ordered to go. He says they were throwing rocks, jumping on cars, and pushing strangers into the street. I didn't see any of this, and I wonder if he and I were at the same event.

The judge calls a recess for lunch. My attorney comes and hugs me. She tells me, sotto voce, that Commander George's testimony contradicts the police testimony they heard yesterday. They're so arrogant, she says, that they're not even bothering to get their story straight. We go to lunch.

During lunch, she and one of the other attorneys talk about credibility. Jurors, as average citizens, are inclined to believe the police even when they're obviously lying because if they can believe that the police are capable of these kinds of atrocities, then they have to believe that the police aren't there to protect and serve them, and perhaps they aren't really safe in their homes.

We talk about keeping what we say subjective, and never volunteering information to the prosecution. I am told not to appear to contradict the police. The prosecution will try to incriminate me by talking about how bad the demonstrators are, and insinuating that I'm one of them. My best strategy is not to disagree with them, but to make it clear that I was not a demonstrator. My attorney also tells me that it's in my best interest not to appear to know my codefendants, not to hang out with them, as it will give the jury the impression that I know them.

Back in court, Commander George's interview is finished up, and another cop is called up. I am noticing the guns the cops are carrying, and my fear starts to turn to panic. My attorney has one of her assistants take me outside.

When I come back, the prosecution is talking about how they're sure they'll get to pick the jury. In the previous trial, the one that had the misfortune to finish jury selection on September 11, the defense used all their cuts up first, leaving the prosecution to literally pick the jury. The defense attorneys get 5 cuts each, and 10 as a group. The prosecution gets the same number. The judge comes back, and they start the motion again.

My attorney begins the legal body of motion, the part with the precedents and the supreme court rulings. She discusses the precedents and how they apply to this case. She talks about entrapment. She says that the demonstrators were ordered to disperse south on Pine, and that when they obeyed that order, they were arrested. She says this is equivalent to throwing water on someone, and then arresting them because they are wet. The motion is great. The judge, who has not been paying attention for most of the day, sits up. He prevaricates for a while, then decides to ignore the precedents set by the supreme court. He denies the motion.

Jury selection for my trial begins on Monday.

To see how this started, please see my daylog for May 3, 2001.
For difficulties in dealing with court dates, please see my daylog for May 7, 2001.
The charges against me are listed on May 10, 2001.
For an account of my first arraignment hearing, please see my daylog for May 24, 2001.
For an account of my bad dealings with my codefendants, please see my daylog for May 30, 2001.
For an account of my second arraignment hearing, please see my daylog for June 22, 2001.
For an account of my decision to go to trial, please see my daylog for October 31, 2001.

This is the Future and the Future Sucks.

I've been studying AP US History lately and it's reminded me of how the scars of history seem to last forever. Immutable laws governing the way people react to one another based on the reputation of their fathers.

The United States and Mexico still have poisoned relations after good old President Polk's war. American Blood was spilled on American soil. It just wasn't (undisputed) american soil when it happened. This seemed to fade away over the past hundred and fifty years or so, only to be revived in force by our dicking around with NAFTA and deciding to ignore a solemn treaty of the senate through an appropriations commitee. (Mexican Trucks are scary!)

I live with the legacy of the Civil War every day. I live in Atlanta. I go to high school. One day I was driving through southeast dekalb on Marta. I was the only white guy on the bus. However I was a white guy, who happened to be a teenager, wearing a trenchcoat. One black lady said to another in an agitated and excited manner. "Watch out ya'll, hes gonna mug us!" As most black people know, all of us evil white folk are out to bring back the days before the civil rights reforms. We're all closet racists. As most white people know, all them black folk are out to get revenge for slavery in one stupid assed conspiracy theory after another. The white people who don't agree with that are of course afaraid that something they say will be construed as offensive to black people.

Race relations in America: "WHERE ARE WE GOING AND WHY AM I IN THIS HANDBASKET?!?"

I don't care anymore. I don't care if my presence offends you. I don't care if you think i'm some closet racist. I don't care if you think i'm just aggrivating things. I'm too arrogant to be a pussy foot, and i'm too apathetic to be loyal to some cause that killed itself. I've already been excommunicated from one Unitarian church. (Or should I say political party?) If god has forsaken me, why the hell should I care about you? Everyday I meet someone, and its up to them if they want to associate with me or not. If they don't, thats fine. Screw them. If they do, cool. As far as i'm concerned it has nothing to do with race.
Well, not a bad day today eh? First of all, it's the Userfriendly birthday. Congrats to Illiad et all. Secondly, it's my birthday! So happy birthday to me! Just got back from seeing the Harry Potter movie Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone. I "read" the audio book on mp3 a while back and quite enjoyed it. The movie missed out some minor (yet important to the overall feel of the fantasy) scenes, but all in all it was a faithful representation of the story.

Tonight I get to head to my parents with my girlfriend for dinner. It's strange, a few years ago I would be waiting in eager anticipation for presents but honestly, I don't really care much. My good buddy Brad got me the movie Rush Hour on DVD which is cool, and don't get me wrong, I'm not going to complain about anything I get... it's just it doesn't seem that important anymore.

Maybe that's how it is... as you get older things that used to matter, don't. Is it good or bad to loose this from your life, along with the other things you used to do but don't anymore. Climbing trees, walking in the woods pretending you were on a dangerous mission for the army, making plastic model airplanes... all gone. Replaced by... what? I don't know. An addiction to computers, a girlfriend that lives with me. Things I never would have imagined having or caring about a few years ago. Strange how things change over time.

Ah well... off to the bank to deposit a paycheck, and then to dinner! (Mmmmm.... tenderloin.... yummy....)

I love the stage when young teens are like a pile of puppies, just before they "grow up". They want contact but not sex, not quite yet.

Tonight, my youngest child, (my daugther), my "other" daughter (her real mom and I both lay claim to both girls since they are together all the time) and a lovely young man spent a wonderful day/evening together. They built a fire, they horsed around, they watched TV and rolled in the leaves, they braided the boy's hair, they cooked, ate and ate some more. All the while maintaining close physical proximity but not quite flirting, more a hyper bouncyness.

The neighborhood kids play/interact/hang around together in multi-age groups until some of the oldest have started high school. The youngest are in nursery school. The older kids may be "watching" the little ones but are also happy for an excuse to play with bubbles, swings, etc. Once dating starts the relationships in the neighborhood change. I've watched this over and over for the last 5 years as my sons and their cohorts "grew up".

Soon, the comfort level with the group will leave and the pair bonding will start. I didn't mind when she left middle school. I don't care that my "baby" is now an official "teenager" but I'll miss the puppy stage.

Last night's party can be summed up by a drunken rant I posted on a friend's LiveJournal after I stumbled back to my dorm:

FUCK

beanpole
2001-11-16 23:37 (link)

i'm so fucking drunk. oh god, and this girl who i saw who's in the other section of my theatre arts class was at the party and she was so hot. oh dear god she was so hot. and like. oh. jesus. there was this girl playing the drums in the basement and i was very drunk so i told her i was her biggest fan and of course she sort of laughed it off and ignored me.

wow. i'm fucked up. where's the women goddamn it? there was one girl who danced with me and her name was becky and she's roommates with that girl that i kissed last weekend but she's much less attractive but i kept thinking it'd be really funny if i kissed her cause then i would have kissed both girls in that room in dascomb on the third floor. but like, she's not very attractive, so i didn't, so like, i didn't get it on with any girls tonight and the only thing this drunkeness is going towards is this weird rant on your livejournal which i'm sure will amuse me greatly tomorrow morning. night yo.

I wore my Harry Potter "Professor" costume to the theater Friday night: my black graduate school graduation gown, a scarlet 3/4-circle cape, and a wizard-looking hat, plus the more ordinary bits like charcoal slacks, black shoes and socks, and a black silk shirt with a mandarin collar.

I'd missed out on the months of waiting on line for Episode I and the associated geeking-out. So I figured I'd go to the first night of the Harry Potter movie in costume, garner my fifteen minutes of derision and rolled eyes, and basically freak the mundanes.

The mundanes freaked me.

I have never, EVER been so popular with teenage girls.

I felt less like Cinderella at the ball than Martha Dunstock in the cafeteria. I've had teenage girls express their admiration for me before, mind you, but back then they only kept a straight face for a few seconds before laughing in my face.

No, they were serious. One insisted that I autograph her arm. Now I know what Jolene Blalock deals with every day. I did sign her arm, though; I wrote "the Professor." with her orange gel pen.

What really threw me off was when one of the girls in one of their impromptu fan clubs called me sexy. Sexy! To a girl who's old enough to be tempting and young enough to be obviously off-limits, even if I didn't already have a girlfriend. And to think of all the years I wasted at the playground offering lollipops. Humbert Humbert, you have my sympathy.

The movie was pretty good too.

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