Voyages

Hello folks. It's always amazing to me, even in this Modern Age, that one can arise in Illinois, and by the end of the day, be relaxing in Minnesota. 500+ hours, gone in the (relative) blink of an eye. Had I been in London, that same amount of distance would have taken me to either Edinburgh or Glasgow, with miles to spare. I think there's a lot of perspective to be gained in voyages like this; I think there's a sense of immensity that we too often forget with our airplanes and future phones.

Because I'm too often accused of being cryptic, I spent last weekend on an adventure of semi-epic proportions. Twin Cities to Iowa City to beautiful (but not quite Twin Cities beautiful) Champaign-Urbana and back again. It was quite a long drive, but I firmly believe that good times and good friends are worth 1100 miles. Plus, I got to catch up on my "This American Life" podcasts. Fantastic.

I can't say I'm too often thrilled to spend 9 hours in a car on any given day, but as I alluded to earlier this summer, there's something cathartic about the open road. Especially when you have a lot of thinking to do. Not that I necessarily did, but endless fields and small towns are conducive to thinking, whether or not that's your intent. Of course, it was much nicer on the leg from Iowa City to Champaign, when I had the pleasure of good company and good conversation. Among the topics: the crisis of modern American masculinity, having work be a part of your person rather than your entire person, many incredibly interesting quips about medicine which I did not understand, and much, much more!

In any event, the countless hours of diesel-fueled fun culminated in yet another Luther College manboy get-together, which I daresay, is the best kind of get-together. The weekend had a severe lack of groan-inducing trombone quartets posted on youtube, but I suppose that was rendered moot by the dual orchestral concerts that we had the pleasure of hearing, featuring Cedar Falls' finest on the bass trombone. In any event, there was exquisite food, expensive beer, morning coffee on a porch, and trophies to commemorate the weekend. Oh yes, and we also channeled our inner viking warrior spirit by drinking mead. Nothing better.

You know, I always used to hate that "manboy" moniker. It was coined via a somewhat legendary short story, the product of a person who had a rather unique, intimate view into our collective friendship. It always seemed so juvenile to me, when, considering some of our college antics, it was probably quite appropriate. At that time, I thought maybe it was a backhanded insult, since I fancied myself a sophisticate. Now, I don't think I mind it so much. Maybe it's my increasing self awareness, but when there are four grown men singing "Mr. Blue Sky" at the top of their lungs at 1 in the morning, "manboy" seems an apt descriptor.

I don't think that's bad either, because I think it's clear from our conversations that most of the time, the four of us work, work, and then work some more, trying to be something or another. It's easy to work at being a lawyer, or a doctor, or a musician, or a physicist. It's not quite as easy to work on being a person of substance, a person who has human connections. If that involves ELO singalongs and nighttime sprinting, so be it. Certainly better than the alternative.

Of course, I was rudely reminded today, as I stumbled through 25 pages of how a mortgagee perfects their assignment of rents, that such revelries are unfortunately, temporary. I used the somewhat misleading metaphor of a caravan going through the desert, stopping at an oasis, and then heading back out into the sand. Like I said, this is misleading, and maybe inappropriate - I don't necessarily think life is akin to a desert. However, with the stresses of school, job searches, women, friends, the general challenges of life; it's pretty important to just stop for a few days, and drink some water. Or, as the case may be, some overpriced beer.

Communication, or Why This Is Hard To Do

Hello Media Consumers, welcome to another exceedingly interesting blog post. It will become the highlight of your day, I'm sure.

What have I been up to, you might ask? My much-hyped (mostly by me - see post before last) moot court competition doesn't start until October, so I've seemingly had quite a bit of time on my hands recently. I've applied for many a job, crafted many an ingratiating cold email to unsuspecting law firms, feasted upon numerous delicious organic cheese items appearing in my fridge, and of course, spent a considerable amount of time pondering how many games it will take the Twins to win the World Series

As a related aside, I've been quite agog at Mr. Jim Thome's recent spat of Herculean home runs. If I can't hit a baseball 700 feet when I'm 40, here's to hoping I can do something else with similar aplomb.

But of course, consistent with my duties, I've spent a few hours here and there being an Associate Editor on the eminent Hamline Law Review. This consists of me reading rough drafts of budding law review articles, making more than a few marks with a colored pen, and basically trying to impart nuggets of literary/legal wisdom on other future lawyers. And as future lawyers are wont to do, we're always right.

Anyways, the experience has reminded me of, for how fundamental it is, effective communication is quite a difficult task to master. You know, I tend to fancy myself a competent writer, and I suppose it's frustrating when others weren't blessed with that capacity. It's not an offense, it's not anything, but it does make you realize that the distillation of ideas to paper, or ideas to a computer, as it were, is a difficult thing. People are verbose and labyrinthine in their reasoning, when the same result could be exposed by fewer words and a Hemingway touch. These are the growing pains of academia though, and I suppose that's why there are folks like me to say, "I just don't understand this."

Of course, thus the title of this blog - only fools think they understand everything. I tend to find this out in more dramatic ways than most, but I suppose that's not necessarily a bad thing. After all, life is dramatic. I believe my friend Bill stated this best when he said, "All the world's a stage, and all the men and women merely players . . . ." I think maybe it's just frustrating, or difficult to comprehend when you are acting in say, a comedy, and another person is doing their best tragedy. Or maybe a mystery combined with a musical. Whatever, you get the point.

Moral of the blog, it's difficult for anyone to write a law review article, it's difficult to write anything. It's difficult to convey what you want to say to other people without sounding insensitive, condescending, or foolish. It's hard to tell folks how you feel. Even worse, it's hard to apologize, especially if you don't think you need to, or understand what is going on. In the end, it's amazing the world continues on in a functional manner, what with all the yelling and mucking about.

Maybe this is yet another reason why baseball is among the most perfect of things. After all, communication is easy. To win a game, you don't need to argue the finer points of the CISG, you don't need to defend yourself against hostile questions or verbal spars. All one must do, is launch a small white sphere into orbit, a majestic arc that by its very nature, instantly tells all that needs to be known.



Enough blather. The Twins, symbolic of all that is righteous in the world, are victorious again. I've had my daily quota of coffee, and there's no school until 4 tomorrow. It is yet another gorgeous Minnesota day; and of course, a gorgeous day in Minnesota is the most gorgeous of all. My bike tires are full of air, the gleaming towers of Minneapolis are nearby, and sky-blue describes not only the waters, but the sky too.

Away!

Talking Dinosaurs + Twins Baseball = Good

State Fair