A Writer’s Diary Entries From Late December, 2001
Friday, December 21, 2001
8 PM. Today is the shortest day of the year, the start of winter and the long Christmas weekend.
My first week at NSU Law is over, but of course this was an atypical week. Once again, today I was all by myself in the darkened classroom wing. I did most of the work-related reading I planned to do for the weekend, but I still had time to surf the Web and deal with personal email.
I came home for lunch and also had a baked potato at Wendy’s; otherwise, I was in the office from 9 AM to 4 PM.
I read up a lot on legal education and academic support. It made me think about how I felt ten years ago, when I was a first-semester law student at the University of Florida.
I recall how that experience changed me. Well, I don’t think I became a different person – as Mikey once said, I was always very analytical – but I did love being a law student and having that exciting educational experience even before I knew I would be good at it.
I guess that since then I’ve always been interested in legal education. I don’t know if I’ll be any good at this job, so it feels sort of like starting law school all over – except, I guess, the stakes are higher.
It didn’t really matter if I succeeded in law school or not, but now I’m being paid $48,000 to do a job, and a whole program for law students is at stake.
Still, if I fail, it won’t be the end of the world – just as it wouldn’t have been the end of the world if I didn’t get this position and had to remain with my parents in Apache Junction and be an adjunct teaching English at ASU and a community college this semester.
As anxiety creeped up on me this morning, I found myself feeling something totally unexpected: a nostalgia for Arizona.
Probably it’s because I now have a job and responsibilities, unlike in my previous visits this year to Los Angeles, New York, Chicago, Philadelphia and the Ozarks.
I also know I won’t be going back to Arizona except for brief, infrequent visits. As it usually does, the passage of time may render upsetting memories into nostalgia.
Actually, this time last year, I was feeling pretty good. I just started taking Serzone and Klonopin, and since I was on Christmas vacation, I had lots of free time to play. I remember reading a lot, going to movies, and sleeping better the last couple of weeks in December than I had all fall.
But then, in January, school started, my car broke down, and I got mugged, and everything started to go bad.
For a while this morning – I was up at 4:40 AM – I worried about the return of my generalized anxiety disorder. I’m pretty sure that it’s going to be something I’ll have to deal with, just as I worried about becoming agoraphobic again during my first year of college. It will take me a while until I’m reassured about my recovery.
When I got home today, I did something good for myself: I put on my walking shoes and took my Walkman, which was turned to NPR, and I walked all the way west on SW 30th Street to Pine Island Road, up to Nova Drive, and around. That might have been two miles.
It’s important that I exercise and that I take time out to have a life apart from work. That’s true for first-year law students, and it’s true for me as well.
I emailed Sean that I’m so tired of moving from place to place that I hope “to stay in South Florida a long time or die here, whichever comes sooner.”
“Don’t die yet!” Sean wrote back.
In his email, Sean called me “kiddo,” which is what I used to call him thirty years ago.
Mark Savage wrote that his Christmas vacation begins tomorrow and he really needs it; otherwise, he and Janet are both okay.
Rosalie said that she’s looking forward to starting her new job at New York Law School next month.
She told me she’s worried about her son, who graduated from Emory last year and spent time working for the New York Department of Children and families and then quit. Since then, he’s been traveling and is now in Daytona Beach, where he’s crashing with friends and has a McJob.
Rosalie also gave me the lowdown on the tension at the NSU library between Billie Jo and Lisa.
In an email, Lenny Della Rocca said he hopes to see me during the year, and George Myers Jr. said he did not know before I told him that there was an entry on him in Richard Kostelanetz’s Dictionary of the Avant-Gardes.
George also mentioned that he’s amazed that Disjointed Fictions is now going for $45 on the Web. He said that all the tech reporting he’s doing is odd “for a people person,” but he’s glad that I read his work on Nexis.
Fred Searcy said he’s redoing his kitchen this weekend and that I should stop by the Stonewall Library at the new Gay and Lesbian Community Center on Andrews Avenue.
And from Ohio, I got encouragement from Mark Bernstein. Replying to my saying that I never really made any very close friends here in Florida, Mark said that in all his years living in Oxford, he’s never made one close friend. But of course, Mark has his wife.
I find myself calming down, as I usually do as the evening wears on.
Aunt Sydelle called and I told her I’d come over on Sunday.
Wednesday, December 26, 2001
6 PM. Last night I needed to take an Ambien when I was still wide awake. It got me to sleep, but only till 4:40 AM. Today I was so stressed that I needed to take a Triavil during the day.
More than drugs, however, I probably need to be patient with myself and not jump to the conclusion that I’m going to have a nervous breakdown again or that this job is not going to work out.
I have to accept the fact that this is a stressful time in my life. I’ve once again traveled across the country to take a new job, and this isn’t the familiar teaching assignment but something novel. That would be hard to adjust to even if I had never left Florida in the first place.
Moreover, I haven’t really worked since early May, and although the financial incentives much of this year gave me a lot of anxiety, I also had a great deal of free time, a luxury for most Americans, and the companionship of my family or friends.
Besides, last May I had the summer to look forward to, and I always do better in that time of year – and I extended the summer as long as I could.
In some ways, it would have been far easier to go back to teaching Liberal Arts at NSU, but even today, I think I’m up to the challenge of being ARP director.
What I’m beginning to realize, however, is that all the wonderful theories and practices I read about in academic support literature are colliding with reality.
In the real world, I have to find people willing to be teaching assistants.
Today I met with Jeff, one of three students that Professor Rohr suggested as a TA for his Civ Pro class. But with a job at a law firm, Jeff is not sure he can handle this.
So am I better off having a bright guy who seems to understand the role of the TA who may be too busy to fill out the weekly lesson plans and other forms I borrowed from Mark Padin and refined today?
I think in the short run, I need to accept that I can’t do all that much in this first semester. My notes from the initial meeting with Jane and Mark say that this term I need to keep the TAs tied to the professors and wait until the fall 2002 semester to make the program my own. Even then, the program will be evolving.
I can’t just trample around in my own way in the NSU Law culture. Right now it looks as though the ARP program has not really been administered at all, with those professors who took an interest in ARP supervising their own teaching assistants’ sessions.
Anyway, from what I can see, this is a sign that I’m not losing my marbles, that I’ve got a firm grasp on the important issues that I need to deal with.
Today I could get only so much done since faculty and students and most of the office staff were not around. Yes, it would be wonderful if everyone were here to respond to my emails, calls and visits, but they’re not.
It will make more work for me in January, and I can see how room and time scheduling can be a nightmare, but I’ll just do the best I can.
As for my phone at work not ringing, my mail at home still not coming (at least Mom says I haven’t gotten any mail at her house since Saturday, which hopefully tells me that my mail will eventually be forwarded), my dental problems, and the cold weather (I bought a blanket at Bed Bath and Beyond – it’s supposed to go down to 45° tonight), those problems will all ultimately be resolved.
I was able to function at work from 9 AM until 4:30 PM, so I need to give myself a break.
Friday, December 28, 2001
7 PM. I’m feeling pretty good tonight, although I’m aching from the root canal Dr. B did this morning.
Last night I slept really well for seven and a half hours, which is the most I can expect. I went to sleep early, so I woke up at what seems to be my default wake-up time of 4:50 AM. And I didn’t take Ambien, Klonopin, or a fourth Triavil.
I was at school at 8:15 AM and answered some email, then I headed off to the dentist. Dr. B is every bit the character I remembered, addressing me as “Attorney,” which he seemed to use as a term of insult.
I had forgotten about Dr. B’s weird theories about infection. He said that my tooth had an extra root, and it was infected with anaerobic bacteria. He put in some medication for the tooth and will fill it at an appointment on Wednesday, January 9.
As the Novocain wore off, it began to ache, and I hope nothing goes wrong. Dr. B said I was only days away from having a real serious problem. With my Signature Dental Plan, the $650 charge came down to $318.
I should have had this done two months ago, but I was always on the go: to Florida and then back to Arizona, then to New York, back to Arizona, and then back to Florida again.
What I liked about work today was that I got to interact with students.
I agreed to meet two students, Laurie and Maggie, at 6 PM next Wednesday and Thursday to discuss being teaching assistants for Professor Braccalarghi’s Civil Procedure ARP.
I have another student, Yassir, who took Professor Gilmore for Property and would like to do an evening ARP for her day class; I hope that works out.
I spoke with Lori, a 2L who will be doing Professor Rogan’s Civ Pro as well as 
Friedland’s Con Law along with another 2L, Olympia Duhart, who came to see me today. Olympia is an incredibly bright woman, a former English teacher at Marjory Stoneman Douglas High School in Parkland.
She told me a bit about the program and how it works and doesn’t work. Pay for teaching assistants is only $8 an hour, so it’s difficult to ask a lot from them, especially when good students can work at law firms or even at other on-campus jobs for less money.
A guy who just finished his first semester and sounded quite upset – I only remember his last name, Adelman – wanted to see me as soon as possible, even tomorrow. So I said I’d come in on Monday at 10 AM even though it’s a holiday. I just hope I can help him; Phyllis Coleman suggested that he come talk to me.
I did have plenty of free time in the office to read the newspaper and to email with friends.
Teresa told me about all the holiday parties she’s been catering: Diane’s Chanukah party on Saturday, another one (with food from Fairway) for Susan and Moshe on Sunday, and a dinner for 17 on Christmas. In between, she and Paul went to Douglaston for Christmas Eve and to Cat’s house for Christmas breakfast.
Teresa said she didn’t like going back to catering, especially when half her help didn’t show, and says she’s thinking of trying event planning, which might be easier and less stressful.
Although she had a bit of a cold, today she was off to help her aunt pack up her house; the closing on the Floral Park house is in late January, so her aunt and uncle will be moving to Colorado sooner than expected.
(The Census Bureau today reported that Colorado, Arizona, and Nevada grew the fastest in 2001: no surprise.)
While I wish my family were still living back here in Florida, I think I’m going to enjoy going back to Arizona to visit as long as I don’t have to live there.
Tom got a letter from Crad, filled with Crad’s usual racism and typical unpleasantness. “I solved my problems with the help of God,” he wrote Tom, “so if you’re still an atheist, I feel sorry for you.”
And Crad told Tom he was fated to live in Germany because of his love for Kafka and Walser – who were, as Tom pointed out, Czech and Swiss.
Tom wondered if I got the new OP books in the mail, and of course I had to tell him that I hadn’t received any mail in Florida yet.
Writing from Phoenix, Susan said that she hopes I’m settling in at my job and that I’ll keep in touch.
Steve Kowit responded to my holiday email with a note whose subject line was “Happy Holidays to You! Continual Warfare on Earth!”
Steve suggested I write a “popular” memoir or a “bestseller-type novel.” He said he’s glad I’m back on my feet and hopes I’ll be in fine fettle “even though I don’t know what a fettle is.”
I also sent emails to Sat Darshan and Alice.
During my lunch hour, I went to the post office and mailed out the copy of The Silicon Valley Diet ordered by Amazon.com Advantage.
I didn’t feel like just staying in the apartment, so I went to an uncrowded Kmart, where I bought a brown leather belt, briefs, t-shirts and a very nice jacket for only $20. Apparel is relatively cheap these days.
Overall, I had a good day today.
I’ve been thinking less about Vincent, which I consider a healthy sign because I need to disengage from him a bit. By now I’m almost positive we’ll never be anything more than friends, and that’s probably for the best.
Monday, December 31, 2001
8 PM. I just read my diary entry for the first of January this year.
Back then, I felt cautious, but I believed that the worst of my depression and anxiety were behind me. I was wrong, of course. Whether that was due to the natural course of the illness, my mugging and the renewed stress that teaching brought on, or that the medication stopped working, I’m not sure.
“It’s an open question how 2001 will go,” I concluded. “I don’t want to deal with either the past or the future right now.”
It’s now 8 PM Eastern Standard Time, and a single firecracker just went off. I feel more ready to deal with both the past and the future, but I still don’t know where I’m going.
I’m glad to be back in Davie, Florida, and I plan to take my new job at Nova Law School one day at a time. It’s a new life, but also an old one.
“It’s so weird being 50,” I wrote Vincent today. I touch the lines running from my nose to the corners of my mouth, and the furrow is so deep. It’s only going to get deeper.
Today the New York Times printed their last separate daily “A Nation Challenged” section as well as the last of the daily “Portraits in Grief,” those sketches of the people who died on 9/11.
I don’t know what their final minutes of life were like, but I hope they were vaporized instantly, like the people in the nuclear holocaust movie The Day After. (More firecrackers just went off.)
It’s been hard to read those little glimpses of people’s lives without crying – but I suppose many people have that reaction. I wonder how many Times readers, though, feel a little envious of the dead because they will always be mourned and because they don’t have to struggle any more.
Yes, of course, they don’t feel the good things in life, either, but their stories are complete. They don’t have to worry about the future when there isn’t one.
It sounds as if I’m severely depressed and wish I were dead – but I don’t. I knew that last January when I was mugged and didn’t want to die. I’m glad to be alive.
I would feel more confident saying that if I knew now that I was not going to fail in this new life.
What would that mean? That I knew I wouldn’t fail at Nova over the next year. That I knew I’d be able to make a life for myself back in Florida. That I knew I wasn’t going to have another nervous breakdown.
But what did I say about “one day at a time”? That’s how I got through 2001. And, like the Sondheim song from Follies goes, I’m still here.
I met with George Adelman today. He’s a kid from Sheepshead Bay who’s involved in a lot of activities at the school as well as in Democratic campaigns.
He got a D+ on Adams’s Torts exam, and he thinks that it was because of the multiple choice. He’s never been good at multiple-choice tests, and because he bombed on the LSAT, he got into law school only by taking NSU’s summer AAMPLE program, where he got a C- and a C+.
(AAMPLE stands for Alternative Admissions Model Program in Legal Education.)
What he fears is his Contracts grade from Harrison, a “killer.” Mark Padin gave him a C+ in Lawyering Skills and Values, and he got a C in Criminal Law.
George says he studied hard, went to every ARP session, and knew the material. I asked him about stress, and he said he had bad stomach pains that kept him from his daily gym visits and which he knew were stress-related.
I told him he should talk with Tracy to see if he can qualify as having a learning disability, to let me know his Contracts grade when he gets it, to look over all of his exams, and to talk with Professor Adams, who Geroge thinks is a good teacher and a fair grader.
Mostly I just wanted to be there for him; I think he needs to know that someone at the law school cares and has faith in his ability to succeed. He did have a good GPA at FAU and got a master’s in sports management at Lynn University.
After he left this guy Dominic, who had been a teaching assistant last term, came by. He’s a smooth talker and wants to be the TA for Professor McIntyre’s Civil Procedure. He told me how he’d arranged the schedules in previous terms.
This guy seems unlikely to take any direction, and I see I need to tread lightly on imposing structure on him. But then, why shouldn’t I let the ARP teaching assistants, if they’re good, teach in the way that they feel most comfortable – the way professors do?
I suspect that the TA’s pedagogy may not be, on average, worse than the law professors’ teaching abilities and strategies.
Today has been a dark, rainy day, and the streets are slick with rainwater. I spent part of the afternoon at Barnes & Noble. After dinner I watched the movie Wings of the Dove, which was just so-so.
Mom and Dad called to wish me a happy new year; Dad said he missed me.
I wrote Vincent.
I find I am getting used to wearing dress shirts and feel less like wearing t-shirts. Even dress shoes don’t bother me so much.
I could go on about the year 2001, but I’ve done that already. Happy new year!