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Exeunt.

 

Friends, Foes, Family,

As of 3.30pm, 15 April 2010, my time as a student at Western Law has come to an end.  

I won't pretend that I feel something other than weird.  Like, "I don't think this is my skin" weird.  

3 years has come and gone more quickly than I ever could have imagined.  I remember a lot, and I'm glad for that.  But with memory comes the familiar pang of nostalgia, colouring even the most mundane endeavours with an impossibly rosy sheen.

The Facebook albums have grown more ubiquitous: "Last Denning of Law School", "Last Civ Pro Lecture of Law School", "Last 3rd Wednesday of March of Law School", all trying to chase down and bottle the fleeting feelings of safety and comfort that school provides.

I have been openly hostile to any such memorializations, ostensibly because they are "lame".  But deep down I know that I feel the pang, too, lame as it may be.  I guess I just hope that with a little distance from the like-minded it won't sting as much.  Fat chance, that.

My first day of university was 10 September 2001, right here at the University of Western Ontario.  Four years of undergrad, two years of employment with the school, and now three years of law school amounts to nearly one-third of my entire life spent at Western.  One third!  My forthcoming graduation (fingers crossed) feels more like a retirement.  I've already got my velour tracksuit steam-cleaned and ready to go.

That this past decade has provided me with some great memories is an understatement, but that's as it should be: no blog post could (or maybe even should) capture this experience with any appropriate fidelity.  And insofar as this little corner of the internet was able to provide me with an outlet for my (admittedly sporadic) hopes, fears and ninja cat videos, I offer to you a sincere, but otherwise unadorned, "thank you".  The number of conversations that I've had with strangers and near-strangers because of a thought that started here is pretty incredible.  Especially since I assumed that the only one reading was my mom.  Boy was I wrong: I'm pretty sure my dad reads, too.

Anyway, I hope to avoid overstaying my welcome (that's assuming, mind you, that a welcome was there in the first place.  For all I know, I'm the guy at the party who nobody invited but is quite comfortable to just go ahead and eat all of the ringolos out of the snack mix) and say simply that I've had blast doing this.  A huge thanks to the powers that be that set me up with this cozy spot a year and a half ago.  You have my word, I'll vacuum before I leave and lock the door on my way out.  

To my fellow students, thank you for reading and for taking the time to let me know whether I wrote something that you liked or not.  In either event, you read it, so I win, right?

And to any prospective students: if Western Law becomes your home for the next three years (or for you keeners, a three year span beginning 5 years from now) I wish you all the best, although it would be fair to say that I am a wee bit jealous, if only because you have yet to experience the stunning revelation that you don't own your cellphone, but you may hold ownership in it.  Good luck with all that.

Alright, that's enough out of me.  It's quarter to 5 in the morning, this extensive collection of pilates DVDs is not going to pack itself, and I'm hitting the road in a cube van in t minus 5 hours.  I may have to bathe in coffee if I plan to make it through the day.  I am at least 96% serious about this.

For those of you with exams, best of luck.  To everyone else, as you were.

I'll be in the bathtub if you need me.

Webloggingly Yours, For Now and Forever

Chris

Posted by Chris Crighton on April 16, 2010 | Permalink | Comments (4) | TrackBack (0)

 

Notes from the Road

 

Friends,

I hope this finds you well, preferably in the warmth of a pending spring.  As the title suggests I am not writing from my familiar roost (a Diet Pepsi-encrusted, glass-top workstation in the corner of my living room); instead I am sending dispatches from the road.  In this particular circumstance, the “road” would be Sanibel Island, Florida.  Yup, the land of ‘gators, ‘Gators and, um, Scarface?

Now, if you were to think to yourself, “What’s he doing in Florida?  I didn’t think it was Reading Week”, well, then, you’d be correct.  It’s not reading week, thank you very much.  But if it’s all the same to you I’ve decided to tailor my winter break around the opportunity to travel rather than the pre-ordained break in studies offered by the school. 

Lest you think I bring this up to either a) gloat or b) display how coolly contrarian I am about school (read “the system”) let me clear the air.  With regards to the former let me state that this trip is not nearly as good as you might expect: the sun is so warm that I often find myself sweating, sometimes even before noon; all I want is orange juice from concentrate but nooooo, it’s all freshly squeezed here; I was hoping to see some carp in the water here but instead all I saw were dolphins (yeah, I get it, you can work an abacus.  Good for you.); and finally, how many days can a guy go drinking almost nothing but margaritas?  I mean, c’mon.

With regards to the latter rest assured that I am no rebel.  I mean, I write a weblog for the school.  I might as well be a hall monitor.

So what am I getting at (besides an apparent love of diversionary prose in a vain attempt to show just how damn witty I am)?  Well, being away from school this week reminded me of a question I am often asked by would-be law students: do you have time to have a life while you’re in law school?

Some people might tell you that no, you don’t have time.  We call those people “Dean’s Listers”.  I kid, of course, likely because I’m jealous.

Really, I imagine that any one of my compatriots would tell you that yes, it’s quite possible to have a life while in law school.  I know more than a few who’ve not only made the time for extra vacations, but who have gotten married or even had kids (I, obviously, am referring to young goats rather than infant humans.  You can’t spit without hitting a goat farmer at Western Law.)

Most people at school are rounding out seven years of higher education (and some have plenty more) and with that type of tenure comes the understanding that “quantity” does not necessarily mean “quality”.  In my opinion, succeeding at school is about knowing who you are beyond the study of law as much as it is about who you are within it.

And to do that, to keep track of who you are rather than what mark you got in Trusts or what law firm you work for, I think it’s important to make time for (including, but not limited to)

Family

Travelling to Florida

Dancing by yourself in your apartment

Chatroulette

Weekly breakfast with friends at Billy’s Deli

Pitchers on Barney’s patio to celebrate the first warm day of the year

Watching seasons 1-5 of LOST in just under a single calendar month

Taking courses out of interest rather than for strategic reasons

Driving to Toronto to see MUSE even though you have 2 essays due that week

Bachelor parties

Dennings

Heading to the pub even when there is no Denning

Movember

Xbox, PS3, Wii, (and for that matter original Nintendo, Super Nintendo, Sega Genesis, TurboGrafx16, Neo-Geo and, oh what the heck, EasyBake Oven)

Pick-up basketball

The Beatles Anthology

Having a pint with your old man

Having a pint with any old man

Tracking your Roll-Up-The-Rim-To-Win stats via Excel spreadsheet

Sending a note of congratulations to 2010 Academy Award Winner for Best Director, Kathryn Bigelow, not for her work on The Hurt Locker, but for the film for which she really deserves the accolade: Point Break (with notes from T. Tynan)

Purchasing a remote-controlled fireplace and pretending that you are a wizard every time you turn it on

Ghost-writing even more Lady GaGa hits

March Madness

A rousing game of solo Cranium 

Starting and then summarily halting a number of “Get Ripped in 4 Weeks!” workouts, and

Bare-knuckle boxing 

Whoops, I was watching Guy Ritchie’s Snatch and that last one snuck in there.  See, Snatch, another non-school related thing I’m doing right now!  It’s easy, try it for yourself! 

In the end, law is (and I’m going on pure conjecture, here) a profession of human beings. So I feel like it’s a good idea to act like one from time to time.  Sure, I don’t need to travel to Florida to do so, but it’s a heck of a lot more fun this way.  Even if I have to share the beach with those self-satisfied dolphins.

Chris

P.s. Here are a few things that I learned while driving from Ontario to Florida.

            -Cracker Barrel is less a restaurant than an infestation.

-Jesus is the savior and his return is imminent. 

-Somebody thought it would be a good idea to name a town state park “Big Bone Lick”.  True story.

-Toronto’s rush hour has nothing on Atlanta’s.

-You don’t want to find yourself hunting for a gas station in rural Georgia after sundown.  Even the GPS gets freaked out.

-Only in America could you see a sign for “Martin Luther King Jr. Blvd” about a half-mile from a Confederate flag the size of a football field.

Posted by Chris Crighton on March 18, 2010 | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBack (0)

 

The Mark of the Beast

 

Well, friends, it’s 2010, and do you know what that means?  Yup, you guessed right: it’s been 17 years since Perfect Strangers went off the air. 

Sigh.

I’ve heard that if you're at a dinner party it is almost a cardinal sin to steer discussion towards any of the following: Religion, Politics and Salary.  Law school, on the other hand, would be quiet as a monastery if these topics were put behind police-tape.  A discussion of one’s grades, on the other hand, should be reserved for only those friends who have been vetted as being neither judgmental nor resentful, and even then grades should only be spoken of in the hushed tones otherwise reserved for gossip about who was doing what with whom in the coat room at Law Ball*

But, as some of you remember, last winter I (maybe foolhardedly) posted my first semester marks in the hopes of demystifying the situation.  And rather than being blackballed, a la Gob Bluth, for revealing the secrets of the ages, I was met with some really great support and commiseration.  It was, in a lot of ways, cathartic, like watching Fried Green Tomatoes or un-friending a real jerk from your Facebook Friends list.

With that in mind, I’ve decided to go ahead and do it again.  Oh yes, and since I didn’t get a chance to post last summer when I received my spring marks I will do that, too.  Consider this a double-shot of sharing.

Without any further adieu, here’s what this ginger pulled down at school in the last calendar year

Spring 2009

B

B+

B-

 

Fall 2009

C+

C+

B+

B-

Okay, so let’s see if you were paying attention last year: which, of these 2 semesters consisted of more 100% final exams?  If you’re thinking the one with the two brand-name orange sodas in the report then you’ve done splendidly.

Last Spring I wound up with three courses that were a combination of either group work or essays and a greatly reduced final exam.  While the pressure to perform fantastically on each exam was correspondingly diminished (especially if my term marks were swell) there was no respite from my complete inability to answer exam questions.  Luckily, it was of no great consequence.

It goes without saying that Fall 2009 was a different story.  While I had toyed with the idea last year of selecting courses based on the increased likelihood of doing better than average (read: essay courses) a good friend of mine waved the smelling salts under my nose.  “You’re paying dearly for it, and this the last time you will ever be in school,” he said, “why wouldn’t you just select the courses that are the most interesting to you, the ones from which you think you will derive the most intellectual benefit?”

I was slightly ashamed that I couldn’t come to that peace of mind on my own but I appreciated the lesson nonetheless (which is why I have, on more than one occasion, stood beneath his bedroom window with a large boom-box, blaring Peter Gabriel’s “In Your Eyes”.  Litigation is pending.)  In any event, I chose four courses that I really, truly thought would be interesting.  “100% Final Exams be damned,” I thought, in a moment of unheralded bravado (I also used my momentary confidence to ask my girlfriend to marry me.  Litigation is pending**). 

As you can see, this devil-may-care attitude translated to three below-average marks.  But those figures, while irrefutable, belie the education I received.  My two lowest marks came in two of my favourite courses, in subject areas that I believe I can and will practice in the future, with no corresponding lag in knowledge or skill.  Sure, I’ll admit that this unfettered future may be a pipe dream but for the time being I am undeterred: I don’t doubt, for a second, my interest in or my relative comprehension of these two subjects.  And I’ve come to learn that I’m happy with that.  Happy as a clam.

Now, the thought has crossed my mind: are these not just the comforting platitudes of the Underachiever?  Maybe so, but I’ve got a relatively easy fix: have children and live vicariously through them, demanding perfection where I, myself, never found it.  Save enough money for group therapy and a daily cocktail of mood-enhancers and, voila, problem-solved.  How’s that for under-achieving?

Of course, I jest.  The kids would be expected to pay for their own therapy.

Really, though, I want to illustrate one point: I am likely going to leave Western Law with a checkered academic record, sure.  But on the other hand, I’m going to be fine in the working world, maybe even better than fine if I’m lucky, and before long the three hours I spent defiling Labour Law will be ancient history. 

Ancient history, of course, unless I decide to re-read these posts in the future (which is almost certain, considering how much in love I am with the sound of my own narrative voice).

So, folks, do with that information what you will.  Repeat it, laugh at it, remix it, whatevs.

On one final note, though, the discussion of marks got me thinking: isn’t the current marking model (A through D, and then F) getting a little tired and busted?  What if, instead of these arbitrary “letter grades” we actually assigned “Marks”.  That’s right, your academic performance would correspond to one of 5 real-life “Marks” ranging from exceptional to, well, Taco Bell meat.

For instance, the mark formerly known as “A” would now be represented by someone rad and exceptional, like Mark Twain, the American author and all-around sharp-tongued badass.

On the other end of the spectrum, replacing the grade that academia has boringly referred to for decades as “F”, you would use someone really lame, like Mark David Chapman, the dinkus that shot John Lennon.   

Anyway, you get the idea.  And, Admin, if you’re reading (ha, if... OF COURSE you’re reading!), feel free to take this idea and run with it.  Obviously, we may disagree on precisely which “Marks” should be included, but here’s my suggested grading system, from high to low (with optional comments for each).

(A) MARK TWAIN

Your work shows great disdain for fools and will be revered for generations to come.  If your moustache is better than this one you get an A+ (this goes for both men and women.  Western is committed to both diversity AND equality) 

(B) MARK LINN-BAKER

I reluctantly took in my distant cousin after he came to America from his native Mypos.  While things weren't always "perfect" we did pretty well for ourselves.  Kind of like your work.  Do the Dance of Joy while humming "Nothing's Gonna Stop Me Now".

(C) MARK PAUL GOSSELAAR

Academically, you're average at best, but that shouldn't stand in the way of your dreams; namely, creatively and habitually ducking out of detention, hooking your friends up with fake IDs so that you can party at The Attic, taking brief romantic detours with Jesse Spano, Lisa Turtle, Stacey Carosi and even Tori Scott (the weird Kelly/Jesse/Polkaroo hybrid that was only at Bayside for part of your senior year), before finally marrying Kelly Kapowski in Las Vegas, effectively ruining 12-year-old Chris Crighton's life. Just a heads up: Don't go to college.  It'll end weirdly.

(D) MARK ZUCKERBERG

Maybe if you spent less time invading everyone's privacy you would have done better at school.  P.s. I still use Myspace.

(F) MARK DAVID CHAPMAN

 
Your work is so awful that it might as well have shot a Beatle and blamed it on Catcher in the Rye.  Thanks for nothing.

Oh, and here's a wild card, free of charge.  

Student busted for cheating?  Well, slap one of these bad boys on there:

Alright, that's enough out of me.   We'll chat soon.

Chris

*That was purely hypothetical.  But if you read that sentence and feared that someone may know your horrible secret, well, then, you should be ashamed of yourself.  Or quite proud.

** In all seriousness, though, I did trick my girlfriend into marrying me ask for my girlfriend’s hand in marriage and to everyone’s great surprise unsurprisingly she said maybe yes!

Posted by Chris Crighton on January 21, 2010 | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBack (0)

 

Holiday Hodgepodge!

 
(this is, quite literally, one of the first pics returned in a google search of "hodgepodge")

Good tidings, all.  As the end of term approaches with lightning speed I thought it appropriate to sweep the dusty corners of my thinkin’ bucket before diving headlong into exams.  The thoughts have come fast and furious this week, and so rather than write poorly about a single topic I thought I’d write poorly about a few different ones!  Care to join?  I’d bet dollars to doughnuts that if you’ve read this far you’re willing to ride this out to the end, right?  Right.  

Ready, set, go!!!

-----

This year I partook in the festivities widely known as Movember.  The premise is simple.  In order to raise money and awareness about prostate cancer men all over the world refuse to touch razor to upper lip for the month of November.  The result? A menagerie of healthy, robust dusters as far the eye can see.

Well, that’s how it works in theory.

For my part, I managed to produce a small tuft of wispy fescue, normally reserved for a lad half my age.  It was enigmatic, communicating simultaneously “come hither” as well as “contact the police”.

While I put on a brave face every morning there were constant reminders of my soup strainer’s inadequacy.  The school was teeming with Tom Selleck look-a-likes, Mr. Belvedere knock-offs, and even a poor man’s Hulk Hogan.  My moustache cowered whenever it heard a heartier breed swooshing by.

To add insult to injury, on November 21^st, a full three weeks after my mo's conception, a young woman asked (in a startlingly loud voice):

“Hey, I thought you were doing Movember?”  

"I am" I replied, my grown-up voice sounding decidedly impish. 

"Oh, it doesn't look like it" she replied, perceptibly annoyed.

A single tear coursed its way down my cheek and while I hoped beyond hope that my moustache might be firm enough to stop that tear in its tracks, I was no more surprised to taste saline than I am to see the sun rise in the east.

By the end of the campaign I managed to secure $100 in sponsorship, but you should think of it less as a sign of my duster’s market value and more of an indication of just how wretched it looked, as if it were huddled in front of an abandoned storefront, its outstretched hand grasping a threadbare baseball cap with which to collect the leftover coins from your recent purchase of over-priced coffee.

Well here, I’ll let you judge for yourself.

 
 

But even this picture tells a sad story.  To get this shot, the least dismal one I could manage, I took over two dozen photos.  The lesson learned?  It doesn’t count as a moustache if you can see it only when the lighting is “just right.”

-----

I’d like to pay some attention to a few of the comments I have received from you, the reader.

First, it has been pointed out by a number of you that my bio contains an error.  My use of the word “Ola” for “Hello” is sorely mistaken.  Apparently, it should read “Hola”, unless of course I meant to use the Spanish word for “wave” as my salutation.

There are two possibilities here:

      1)   I don’t know the first thing about Spanish and I have been ensnared in a web of my own cultural pretension.

      2)   I know everything there is to know about Spanish and I just wanted to see if you Spanish speakers were paying any attention.

Well, given my well-known aversion to antagonizing the Spanish I think we can all assume that numero uno is a safe bet.

But, I will say this: I have known about this gaffe since day one of Legally Blogged.  I haven’t corrected it because I simply CANNOT figure out how to edit this pane in TypePad.

So, if there are any TypePad wizards out there (bonus points for a Spanish speaker) who’d like to throw me a bone I would be much obliged.

-----

Now, most of the comments I receive are

 1) From my mom (and thus)

       2) Surprisingly complimentary

I was taken aback last week when I received this one:

“sounds like you are really buying into all that legal eagle mumbo jumbo they teach you at school. These illusions will serve you well in the long run.”

Let’s make something clear: I’m not offended.  

I am merely confused.

First of all, call Legally Blogged what you want, but chockablock with legal mumbo jumbo?  Unlikely.  I mean, I spend more time talking facial hair than contributory negligence. 

Now, idiosyncratic, over-wrought mumbo jumbo?  Oh yeah, this thing is lousy with that stuff.

Anyway, I needn’t quibble over semantics because what is most interesting about this reader/commenter is that (thanks to a little research method I like to call “mouse-clicking”) he is from The Isle of Man!

Now, I know what you are thinking: “the Isle of Man, that sounds fictional, like unicorns or Crighton's moustache!”  Oh, how wrong you are.  Not only is the Isle of Man real, it also has the COOLEST FLAG ON THE PLANET!!!

  

What is that?  Could you imagine passing one of those on the street?  Could I attach four of them to a Volvo?

Anyway, your comment couldn’t have come a moment sooner.  Whether you knew it or not, good sir, your fortuitous timing solved a months-long dilemma, a real personal struggle of mine. 

See, I couldn’t decide whether to tattoo my face with the Isle of Man flag or the Ghostbusters symbol.  But now I know.  The universe has spoken and pretty soon I will have a three-spoked wheel of armored legs embossed directly on to the spot where a moustache would normally grow!

Now that would be an illusion that would serve me well in the long run, don’t you think?

-----

Oh, and if you are new around these parts that just might be as a result of Legally Blogged being featured in the “Sites of Interest” panel on the UWO homepage! (Bottom of the left hand pane, go now before it's gone!)

I am almost embarrassed to have my “writing” sandwiched between webpages outlining a Kenyan sustainability project and Western’s staggering United Way contributions but I am not about to look a gift horse in the mouth.

To the benevolent web elves who waved their wands and made this happen (that’s how the internet works, right?) a sincere thank you.  If any of you ever find yourself in legal trouble in the future just give me a call.  I’ll use all manner of my mumbo jumbo to lend a helping hand!

-----

Well, exam time can only mean one thing: I set aside my almost primordial dislike for cats and share with you a feline-centric video that shall serve as a distraction during these trying times.  While I went with ninja cat last year I am opting for something a little less rad and a little more heart-warmingly adorable (take note, that is the last time I will ever use that phrase again in either print or speech).

Behold, Surprised Kitty!

Alright, folks, that’s it til next time.  To my compadres, best of luck with exams and enjoy your time off.  To everyone, enjoy the holidays in whatever manifestation of them you so choose.

Exeunt.

Posted by Chris Crighton on December 4, 2009 | Permalink | Comments (2) | TrackBack (0)

 

Benchwarmers

My definition of “celebrity” has changed drastically over the past two years.  Where I once clamored to follow the goings-on of the rich and famous, (you know the usual suspects: Brangelina, Paris Hilton, Pauly Shore) I now itch for a different type of scratch.

Judges. 

Any of them.  All of them.* 

Ontario Court of Justice?  Yup.  Ontario Court of Appeal?  Sure.  Constitutional Court of Belgium?  Why the heck not?

Yes, yes, I know, it seems odd.  But I contend that it actually makes a lot of sense.  See, throughout my life the people whom I have venerated have changed depending on what I was hip to at that time.

For instance, when I was 5 and thought I was going to grow up to be a private investigator, Magnum PI was THE guy.  Granted, he still is THE guy on account of that prize-winning duster.  I mean, come on, look at that thing.  I bet he feeds it steak.

Then, when I was 12, decked from head to toe in Nike gear (courtesy of the Birch Run Factory Outlet – who needs centred logos, correct stiching or fully-adhered soles?) and convincing myself, in spite of my father’s best efforts to the contrary, that I was a talented basketball “player”, Michael Jordan was the Alpha and The Omega.  So resolute was my admiration that I actually believed that when I grew up I would be able to dunk.  Oh, and that I’d be black.  That, too.

Fast-forward to my “I want to be a rock star phase” (c. 1996-the present).  You show me someone who plays music to a crowd of at least, I don’t know, 4 people, and you might as well be introducing me to the messiah.

So, here I am, a 27-year-old manchild at the sunrise of his legal career, still wondering how he fits into the grand machine.  But my interest in the bench is steadfast. 

For me, judges are the pinnacle.  Sure, you can make more money in private practice, but if you’re like me you see the pay cut for what it really is: the membership fee to use your own door in and out of the courtroom!  I mean, what’s back there?  An arrangement of butter-tarts?  The Sgt. Pepper’s Master Tapes?  A helipad?  It could be any of those things.  Or maybe even all of them!!!

Really, though, the allure, for me, of the Robed Elite, is that judges have reached a distinct, measurable place within the legal profession, and while a judge is just as human as you and I, he or she has taken a pretty big bite out of the proverbial Golden Apple (Ed. Note: I have, literally, no idea what a golden apple is, nor if there is mention of such in any proverb, anywhere.  It sounded good, I made a commitment to my intuition.  Deal with it.)

What I find most fascinating about Canada’s judges, especially those who sit or have sat on the Supreme Court, is that they wouldn’t be recognized on the street by the average Canadian.  Their decisions affect us in very real and meaningful ways and yet they could have been the person behind you in the Timmie’s line, or the poor sod who got a face-full of your middle finger during rush hour. 

Similarly, who are the people among us who will, in the future, take a position atop the mahogany edifice, ready to swing the gavel and decide the fate of our criminals, our corporations, our separatist provinces? (I’m not pointing at anyone, specifically)  Could the future Chief Justice of Canada be the person in front of you who constantly checks Facebook in class? (Well, likely not: our future Chief Justice no doubt understands that Facebook is circling the drain and that the future is going to be written in 140 characters or fewer)

It’s an intriguing thought, that today’s classmate might be tomorrow’s Beverley McLachlin (aka The Silver Fox).  Unfortunately, by then my reverence may be a muted one.  I will be too old, too grizzled to hold high the bench.  My worship will have moved on to something more situation appropriate, like the cast of Cocoon, or Wilford Brimley and his delicious, heart-healthy Quaker Oats. 

Or I may even come full circle and realize that the most intriguing, age-appropriate celebrity is, and always has been, Tom Selleck and that positively radiant soup strainer.

See you soon,

Chris

* Alright, almost all judges.  This post is not meant to give a pat on the back to the panel of “judges” that helm Canadian Idol.  They need encouragement like a Mogwai needs to be fed after midnight.

Posted by Chris Crighton on November 10, 2009 | Permalink | Comments (3) | TrackBack (0)

 

Homecoming Zen and the Art of Delaying the Inevitable

So,

This past weekend was Homecoming here at Western.  While alumni dusted off their old leather jackets, left their children in the able care of non-Mustang relatives and descended upon the sleepy Forest City for a weekend of imbibing and reminiscing, I took a different tact.  I simply got out of bed and started drinking!

Just kidding.

I didn’t even get out of bed. I just drank from a bottle of red wine that I keep in my nightstand!

Again with the kidding.

But truth be told, even though I’m not an active alumnus yet I do find Homecoming weekend to be an exciting time.  While graduation day next June (fingers crossed) will certainly bring about a mixed-bag of emotions (like excitement on the one hand, but punishing, debt-related uncertainty on the other) it’s this time of year, the first flirtatious weeks of school where class is still optional and you’re not sure whether throwing on a sweatshirt will be too much or not enough clothing for a night of patio beers, that resonates with me the most.

I don’t think I’ll ever feel a sense of whimsy about any of the exams I’ve written here (although, there is a certain fraternal/sororal quality to writing first year law exams) but I think I may feel a certain nostalgic twinge when, at the end of August, I won’t be cleaning out my desk ahead of moving back to London for the start of the school year.  In effect, it’s as if, with the beginning of an “adult” existence, I will have to accept a drastic change to the almost circadian quality of the school/summer pattern that has charted one third of my life. 

What will next September be like?  While sitting in an office building high above the Toronto concrete will I feel as if I should be unpacking boxes or buying books?  Will the urge to fritter away whole afternoons with sheer nothingness tickle my senses like a phantom limb?  Will I ever refrain from using rhetorical questions as a stylistic crutch in my writing? 

But I digress.

This, my ninth homecoming, was different, the beginning of the end.  Where I used to sit back and watch alumni with a sort of bemused detachment I kept an eye on this year’s revelers with a greater degree of self-awareness.  I will one day be these alumni, adorable in my nostalgia, eyed with the same kind-spirited condescension by the youth of tomorrow.

But for the time being I’m just going to ride out my final university autumn with all the aplomb of a chap half my age (although I can do without any of the attendant insecurities and poor skin that plague a 14 year old).  Full seasons of television shows will be watched in rapid succession; Little Ceasar’s “Hot and Ready” pizzas will be considered reasonable sustenance, sometimes even twice in one day; and, mark my words, I will be easily convinced to ditch the library for Monday Night Football, the chance to watch The ‘Burbs for (quite seriously) the 35^th time, or even something as small as being able to grab coffee with any and all of the rotating cast of characters who have helped to shape my time at Western.  It may be the last time I see them before my hair turns gray (or disappears entirely), my metabolism finally catches up with me, forcing my old leather jacket to bulge in unmanageable ways, and I constantly bemoan things like a tricky back, the cost of the movies or the unparalleled comfort of Dr. Scholls inserts.

I need to get while the getting is good, you know?*  

Chris

*Special thanks to Dave Reynolds for his help with this line.  He’s just chock full of such folksy diction.  Good for you, Dave.

Posted by Chris Crighton on October 6, 2009 | Permalink | Comments (3) | TrackBack (0)

 

Welcome Back

Dear Reader,

Pardon the absence.  If it wasn't attending seminars on the unique business opportunities of Alpaca husbandry, or dealing with the immense pressure of writing the next installment of my wildly successful book series, Twilight, it was surely some other twee diversion that kept me at arm's length from this trusty keyboard.  

In any event, the pleasure of returning to this corner of the internet is all mine.  

Just kidding.  It's predominantly yours.

Now, because of the absence maybe it would be best if I gave a recap of who I am and why Legally Blogged should be firmly sandwiched somewhere between Perez Hilton and Facebook on the list of your 5 Desert Island Websites (and yes, the island has power and an internet connection, but other than that it's deserted, got it?)

My name is Christopher Michael Crighton, although most refer to me as Chris. Almost as many refer to me as Slender.  Not the coolest nickname in the world but it certainly could be worse (like when I was younger and my grandmother referred to me as "Pissy Chrissy".  And by "younger" I mean "yesterday").

Anyway, last year (my second year at Western law) I was asked if I wouldn't like to document my comings and goings as a student, ostensibly as a way to capture some of this wild ride for the benefit of prospective Western law attendees.  I hope to continue this year in the same vein, but in addition to my recurrent theme of “wow, life sure can be confusing sometimes” I foresee that this year’s pieces will be influenced by other external stimuli, not the least of which was my summer working for the Department of Justice in Toronto. 

To give a full re-cap of my summer in one sitting would be exhausting for both you and me, but suffice it to say that as far as work experiences go it was the cat’s pyjamas, or the bee’s knees, or some other painfully hip animalian accoutrement. 

If any of my teammates from the Justice League are reading: I hope all is well.  Oh yeah, and all of the Excel Spearmint chewing gum pressed firmly into the underside of my recently-vacated desk was there when I moved in.  Same with the graffiti that reads, “Chrissy Pissy wuz here.”  I know, weird coincidence, right?  But 100% true.

Anywho, I simply wanted to use this opportunity to provide some salutations and confirm (much to the chagrin of you odds-makers out there, I’m sure) that I hadn’t died. 

As always, feel free to leave a comment or send me an e-mail (ccrighto@uwo.ca) if you have any questions (well, questions that have a rational connection to these proceedings, I suppose.  I’m not Google.)

Let’s do this again soon

Chris

Posted by Chris Crighton on September 18, 2009 | Permalink | Comments (2) | TrackBack (0)

 

Summer Break

In case it wasn't made abundantly clear by the sheer lack of activity on this puppy for, oh, two and a half months, I have decided to take a wee break for the summer.

Posted by Chris Crighton on July 1, 2009 | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBack (0)

 

Q: What time is it?

A: The end of the school year (or, as a caricatured English-speaking German would say, "zee end of zee school year")

How did this happen?  How do I conk out in early October only to wake up in mid-April, mere days away from completing my second year of law school and heading off to the "big city" (no, not Sarnia, the other big city, Toronto) to show my employer that, yes, I have got what it takes to succeed (true or false: I rise from bed every morning while yelling that last sentence?)

It is a noted psychological phenomenon that the older you get the faster time seems to pass and I can honestly say that law school has really put that feeling into harsh relief for me.  Second year has been a blur of deadlines and events, and like Tarzan swinging from vine to vine, I found myself in the midst of something new before I was finished with the last thing.

I am hesitant to say that I didn't enjoy second year as much as first year, because it's like comparing apples and a calculator, but the sheer "what the hell is going on?" feeling of first year is something that, while uncomfortable at the time, is really quite comfortable in retrospect.  Surrounded by similar furrowed brows, the experience is collective, like Woodstock or a fight club (errr).  Second year, I have come to understand, is more an individual challenge: mooting, job-hunting, dragon-slaying (okay, that last one is fictional BUT we can agree that it would be a pretty daunting task all by yourself, no?) 

Unsurprisingly, then, the group work component of Corporate Law and Civil Procedure brought back some of that collective feeling.  Last week I pulled my first (academic) all-nighter in a long time, and did it at the school, no less.  (Editor's Note: it was noted by others, and subsequently confirmed by the author, that one will see some strange things in the school at 5am.  Straaaaaange things.)

But I am left thinking less about the year that has passed than the year that is to come.  Third Year.  Wait.  What?  I remember what 3Ls were like when I started.  They were confident, self-assured.  They knew stuff.  They were the 8th graders of law school, y'know?  Back of the school bus, wispy moustaches, Reebok pumps.  They were all that.  I mean, sure, I, too, have a wispy moustache but it certainly doesn't mean that I know everything.  Shucks, I still wonder if I know ANYTHING.

I could go on.  At length.  But I won't.  Because if you get what I'm talking about you needn't hear any more: you already know.  And if you don't really "get" the feelings about which I ramble than you are likely bored to tears.

Suffice to say that, yikes, school is flying by, and by extension, so is life.  Which reminds me that I really need to pay attention to all those things that I wanted to accomplish by the age of 30:

-Finish school
-Buy a car
-Win a Grammy for Best Latin Album
-Travel to the moon (and back, please)
-Remember (just once) to carry my AirMiles card with me to the grocery store

Lofty, I know.  But impending adulthood can really light a fire under one's caboose.

Back soon.

Posted by Chris Crighton on April 18, 2009 | Permalink | Comments (2) | TrackBack (0)

 

Blogging about a newspaper article about blogging

This is what the hepcats refer to as "meta".

Posted by Chris Crighton on March 25, 2009 | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBack (0)

Blog Author

Ola! My name is Chris Crighton and I am a second year law student at Western. I was born in Scarborough, Ontario but spent my formative years in the magical land of Sarnia, Ontario. I completed my BA (English and History) at Western before starting at Western Law in the fall of 2007. With Legally Blogged I hope to give you a snapshot of what my life is like here at Western Law. I promise you that my accounts will be void of marketing lingo or other linguistic subterfuges. Read on.

Chris Crighton