Last Day of School

A lot of you have followed my blog since I left New Zealand.  Hasn't time gone by fast?  Today is the last day of my law school classes.  What that means is no more formal education!  That's it.  I have nine years of post high school education.  9 years!  That doesn't include when I started pre-school at 4.  Today was the last day of class in my entire life.

Also, the final class of my formal and professional education, was anticlimatic.  No fanfare.  No food.  Nothing special.  No powerful speech about being great human beings.  It was just a regular class.  I remember the last day of class from my 1L professors more.  It was all so much more dramatic then.

A lot of my classmates are ready to be done.  If I took their charted course, I would be too.  Many of them took the same type of classes that resemble 1L year, tax, business association, etc.  You can do that.  And if you do that for three years, it'll get boring real fast.  Hence the saying, 1L they scare you.  2L they work you.  3L they bore you.

1L scared me.  2L worked me.  3L worked me more.  This has been a strange year in general.  I think I really enjoyed it though because it was entrenched in practical experience.  I served the poor and won a lot of hearings.  I did three clinical classes, where I learned depositions, opening statements, closing statement, directing witnesses, cross-examining witnesses, interviews and negotiations.  There are a lot of skill sets there.

I lectured in France.  I taught undergrads and wrote two pieces that are getting published.  I have two or three more that will hopefully be picked up for publication.  I won a number of hearings for the most prosecuted, persecuted, and invisible members of society.  I had a police policy changed in the LAPD.

So - lots done, lots of stress, lots of pain, and lots of fun.  My next post will be on my most recent police impound hearing.

All in all - the lesson are basic but have to be said

Don't stop learning.
Don't stop growing.
Don't be afraid.

The City of Demons

I wanted to see the City of Demons. Why do I keep calling it the City of Demons? For all you Bible scholars out there, do you see any word familiar in the City of Baalbek? Hint: First four letters.

The First and Second Kings describe a god called Baal, "false God." It was originally worshiped by the Phoenicians - who were also the people who did come up with the alphabet system.

From Bcharre, the road to Baalbek was closed. So, we had to make a complete loop down the mountain and come in from another road. A one hour journey turned into a five hour one.

The Phoenicians first dedicated the city to their God Baal. Then, came the Romans - who dedicated it to Zeus. Then came the Christians, who sanctified it to the Christ King. And then, the Muslims took it over, and made it a citadel when the crusaders came.

I really enjoyed exploring these ruins. I felt like a kid again in some ancient Legoland. This was the good part of not having tourists. There weren't people crawling around everywhere. It was just me and the ruins and the time to reflect on them.

It was so impressive to touch stone that was over 2,000 years old. Apparently, it took 100,000 slaves to build the place. Also, the Phoenicians apparently sacrificed people in this temple. That practice stopped when the Romans came, but temple prostitutes were always about.

The first picture shows me sitting on the alter of Jupiter. Now, it's the alter to the Ferrari god. =)

Next post: On Arab Culture Shock.

Byblos

I almost got killed in Lebanon. I was in the mountains of Lebanon when a bus driver honked his horn. I jumped left, avoiding the bus that nearly smashed me. He had plenty of room to swerve, but, no he wanted to run me over. The most dangerous thing in Lebanon has to be the traffic and not the terrorists.

Anyways, I really enjoyed my trip to Byblos. (Picture above). Lebanon was an important place in antiquity. Because it borders the Mediterranean Sea, it was often a prize for the ruling world power. Because of the sea and its regions, Lebanon was a gateway for Asia, Africa, and Europe.

So, it's no surprise that the Egyptians wanted this place. Alexander the Great did. And so did the Crusaders. But now - there are no tourists. It's like an empty ghost town by the sea. None the less, I loved exploring the Crusader Castle. I felt like a kid again.

In any event, tomorrow, I'm headed off to the City of Baalbak - the City of Demons.

Lebanon - No Tourists Here

Tripoli
I had the most amazing experience in Tripoli. Tripoli reminds me of what a Westerner would imagine the Middle East to be. Busy, hustling, bustling, noisy streets lined with people who serve Turkish coffees, baklava, and freshly squeezed blood orange juice.

One thing that disappointed me on this trip was the lack of Western tourists. Lebanon attracts people from all over the Arab nations. People from Iraq, Egypt, and Syria come here. Why? They love Lebanon because it's also an Arab nation where they can get drunk, gamble, and buy sex. And nobody judges them.

But why were all the Western tourists gone? In 2007 there was all out war in Tripoli against the Palestinians. Recently, there's been that Syria-thing. All this means - NO TOURISTS from anywhere except the Arab States.

Somehow, I found a Norwegian programmer to travel with temporarily. I also found a German, internationalist journalist for a famous newspaper. The three of us exchanged stories about the Middle East and what is happening here. The Syrians just entered the Lebanese borders. We hear stories of Arabs killing Arabs, Christians killing Arabs, Arabs killing Christians, and everyone killing everyone.

Now, let's go back to what this amazing experience was. I was in the hotel, sipping on Turkish coffee. The German had finished his shower. The Norwegian finished paying the bill. I said it was time for breakfast.

We entered a small restaurant. A Lebanese Semitic guy greeted us and said, "What do you guys want? Tell me. No one speaks English here but me." So, we told him. Nothing out of the ordinary. There was cheese and flat bread, and meat and flat bread, and cheese dumplings.

The three of us chatted. The Lebanese guy spoke with us as well. As he walked out he said, "Don't worry about the bill. I paid for it. Welcome to Lebanon." He walked out without a further word.

The three of us just looked at each other confused. I said, "That was too much." The other two agreed.

Good Morning Los Angeles / Good Night Dubai - Where am I going?

I forgot. I really did. An email came in to tell me, don't forget you're flying out tomorrow to Dubai. I spend a night there, and then I'm on my way to Lebanon.

I don't really know what to expect. I haven't even booked a place to stay in Lebanon. No good! I don't know where I'm going. What am I going to do? I don't even know what the currency is over there.

My parents both said I had lost it. What's new, right? My mom actually told me, "You better come back alive." I just told my father I was going to Dubai. I neglected to mention my trip continued into Lebanon. My roommate said I was nuts as well. So did his wife.

All in all, I think I'm entitled to a holiday. Yes, entitled. If you don't treat yourself to a good time, no one is going to feel sorry for you, maybe except yourself. And if you don't take care of yourself, who's problem is that? I've worked really hard in the last few months, with conferences, simulations, clients, cases, hearings, winning those hearings, losing some hearings, and also getting published. What does all that mean in reality? It means living at the UCLA Law library until 11pm almost everyday. It means getting up in the morning and worrying about your clients and not making mistakes and making sure you do everything in your power to serve them. A good lawyer has to shoulder the problem of his or her client. That's our duty, and that's not easy. So - all in all - it's time for a break.

It's funny though, when I tell people I have a stressful life, people look at me with bewilderment. I often get the comment, "Didn't you just go to Germany?" "Didn't you just take a road trip to Santa Barbara? Weren't you wine tasting there?" "Didn't you just come back from France?" Ok, yes to all those things. But no one sees how hard I work, except for those neurotic law students who seem to have tabs on who stays the longest in the library.

So - what is the lesson from all this? It's really just this. When you work - do something you love to do. Do something that brings some kind of meaning in your life. When I wake up - I believe that I'm in this world for some other purpose than to survive. I have to believe that the work I do makes someone's life better. Thus, when I work endless hours or even having crushing losses, I know this: It was worth it, and I did my best. The ultimate result is that I don't appear tired or worn out to other people. In fact, for some reason - people think I have an enjoyable life.

On Getting Published

I recently had two pieces picked up by law reviews. One is a criminal piece. The other is a trade law piece. Here's what I wish I knew before I had taken this journey.

I come from the Gen-Y group who has this burning desire to make their mark. Because being a Hollywood actor or a GQ model wasn't in my line of sight, I had to chose writing as a way to do it. Even as a college student, I remember asking my English professors if it was hard to get published. They looked at me like I was dumb for asking. They had that look that expressed, of course it is sonny-boy. You think you can be like a hot shot like one of us. They were always a bunch of elitists anyways.

Is it that hard to get published?

Yes, and no. It's like riding a bicycle - I think. It's hard at first to get published, but after your first one, you know what you need to do. I think it may be easier now to get published because of the internet. But in some ways, it's also harder.

The internet has allowed you to get your work out to more people, more quickly. But, now publishers have more pieces to pick from. In other words, competition has gone up.

In short, it's not that hard, but it is a lot of hard work.

How do you get published?

Journals and publishers are not people. Corporations are not people. Companies are not people. Neither are universities. But people run all these organizations. You're going to have to convince a person or people that your piece is worthwhile.

Doing that, is liking getting a job. There are multiple barriers and multiple perspectives. Like a cover letter and a resume, you only have a few seconds to catch the attention of the reviewer.

Same thing with publishing. You have to have a good cover letter, good title, and good intro to move past the first review. If you get passed those checkpoints, then you have to have a good conclusion. Reviewers will jump next to the conclusion. Then that reviewer may read the whole piece. If s/he finds it interesting, then it goes to other people. So you see, there are a lot of barriers.

How do you make things interesting?

Marketing is a must, but it comes second. What comes first is your interest and your passion. It's hard enough to devote time, energy, and resources to any piece. Therefore, you might as well pick something you're going to enjoy - or otherwise the consequences of burning out are likely to result. Second, you have to market.

How do you make things marketable?

Having substance is a good start. To determine if it does, send it to some people who are experts in the field. Have them comment on it, you'll soon find out what needs to happen.

Remember, my comment about hard work. This is where it is hard work. With feedback you have to revise and revise. After the revisions, then you work towards making it marketable.

I do this by looking to have a catchy introduction and title. For instance, one of my pieces looks at the nature of sexual abuse against male juveniles in detention centers. The other piece explores how the WTO's Trade Law could punish the Chinese for their Child Labor Violations. My last piece looks at how the butterfly effect operates in the laws of war. Did you know that Middle Eastern terrorism responses could trigger nuclear warfare in East Asia?

You see the point. Be interesting.

How do you get into a top journal?

Sadly, at this point I don't know. But, I'll let you know if a top journal picks up my work.

What's your next piece?

I've already been getting a lot of damnation for my next piece. It's controversial, no doubt. But, I'd like to write on how the enactment of the early Nazi Nuremberg Laws parallel Californian police misconduct practices against undocumented workers. My working title is "THE EMERGENCE OF FASCISM DUE PROCESS IN CALIFORNIAN LAW ENFORCEMENT."

That's all I got for now.

PC

Young and Fit v. Old and Rich

It happened again. Outside, of my house in Hollywood I was arguing with a lady over parking.

I have a sporty, roadster. Such is a great car to have when you have a hard time to find parking. The turning radius is awesome and it's just so agile.

But when you compete with people for parking, the loser hates you. Just tonight, I had an argument with a lady. She had a big white Volvo. We both came to the same parking spot. As she was trying to grab it, I busted a U-y. I took the spot before she could blink. She got out of her car and started screaming, "I fu*(&n hate you. Move your car. I'm going to get your car towed."

I just said, "I don't see this space have your name on it."

"I'm going to get you towed."

I said, "Go ahead."

But then, I realized, this fight isn't worth it. There's a parking spot just half a block down. I moved. I swore at her before I moved though.

That's my fifth fight over a parking spot in this area in the last two and a half years. One time, a guy said, "You f)(*&)* chinky. I'm going to kill you."

The road rage over parking spaces. But, I won all these battles when we both come upon a spot. Why? Because I have a quicker car. And these people I fight with, usually have a huge clunky machine. I mean, I am so against these huge cars. People should live with their consequences, or so I think.

One time, though, I had beat out another car for a space. I woke up in the morning, and she wrote on my hood in shaving cream: "You piece of sh*t cu* eating fu**er." That's what she wrote. I did think, Get a faster car lady.

My car's been broken into once (it was before all these parking battles). It just made me think, you have no idea what these people are going to do with your car. Broken windshield. Broken window. Who knows? Not worth it. But, I hated that feeling of backing down to this losing girl. I, too, wanted to throw a bier bottle on her car and hoped it cracked and dented it. I think I was angry because you could tell she was the bullying type, and that she screamed and threatened people to get her way. I think if a car beat me to a spot, that's my fault. Right? Speed and fitness beat old and clunky.

I pulled back the thought back about throwing a bier bottle against her car. Why do it? I thought of all the consequences of getting caught. Then I asked myself, would you throw that bottle if you wouldn't ever get caught? I decided, better not. Making those choices makes you a worst person - slowly but surely.

* * *

On our trip back from wine country to Santa Barbara, the lux guy Paul and I had to meet with my friend Albert. I hadn't seen Albert in over 10 years. We were looking for a parking spot. But none to be found.

I told him, "I wish we had the roadster. We could easily beat people to a spot."

I told him the story about the girl who had used shaving cream to write the foul slogan.

Paul said, "That's not nice, Paul to take the person's spot.

I then said, "Hey - survival of the fittest."

He said, "Well then, I have a story to share."

"Share then," I said.

"Well, I knew a policeman. He told me this story. A young man in Luxembourg had a porsche and an old guy with a big Mercedes and him were fighting over a parking space. The guy with a porsche was quicker and got into the space.

The old man got out and said, 'Hey what are you doing?'

The porsche guy got out of his car and said, 'Young and fit, old Geezer.'

The old man got back into his car. He pulled a few yard away from the porsche and rammed it with his Mercedes.

The old man then told the young guy, 'Old and Rich!'

The policeman came out but couldn't do anything, as it was just property damage. He told the young guy to sue.

Can you imagine the guy's face when the Mercedes slammed into his porsche?'"

I thought wow.

Albert was waiting upstairs at Brophy Brothers. There, I ordered a glass of champagne and half a dozen raw oysters. Putting on a New Zealand accent, I then asked for "Fush and chups."

* * *

I didn't forget that story about Young and Fit v. Old and Rich when this woman was in her volvo, spewing out her ire.

I had the legal right to have that space. It reminded me of my first year property class. There's an ancient American case called Pierson v. Post. In it, the plaintiffs were going fox hunting. They chased and chased the fox. But at the last moment, the defendant knowing that the plaintiff almost had the fox, snatched it for himself. This is a core legal property principle - that persists even today. At what point does property rights actually materialize? If someone steals my sperm while I'm sleeping, who owns it? (real cases).

Back to the fox. The court reasoned, No. The plaintiffs only had an expectancy or a hope to have that property. The property of the fox belonged to the defendants who was the first person to physically capture and possess it.

This is exactly what happened with the parking space. I'm the defendant who captured it first. The angry lady is the plaintiff who sues. But in the end, like in Pierson v. Post, me persisting would have been a lose/lose. Both parties in that case, accrued legal fees that surpassed the value of that dead fox. But good on lawyers for milking the system, even in ancient American times.