I received a Jury Duty notice a couple weeks ago. The summons instructed me to call the courthouse after 4:30 on Monday to ensure they would need me. I called after my Seminar meeting and the recorded voice informed me that my juror number was amongst those still needed to report for duty. At 7:45 A.M.

Yesterday I got up slightly earlier than usual, had breakfast and then took a shower. After I had just finished drying my hair, The Partner comes up the stairs and says, “Hey. It’s almost 7:25. You need to get going. Should I start the car for you?”

I tell him that would be nice and go about my business.

He comes back up the stairs as I’m tying my shoes. “Hey. It’s 7:35. I think you should get going now. Aren’t you supposed to be there in ten minutes?”

So I get going and drive all crazy-like on my way downtown and get to the Juror Parking Only Lot, like instructed, and the lot is full.

So I drive over to the parking garage, remembering the recorded voice said something about validating parking tickets, and walk to the courthouse. Since a guy (unsuccessfully) attempted to ram his truck into the courthouse five years ago, only two entrances are open to the public and once inside you have to empty your pockets and walk through a metal detector surrounded by armed guards. I ask a guard about the parking and he informs me I parked in the wrong garage. I need to park in the county parking garage, not the city garage.

So I leave and move my car to the county garage, driving around and around until I find a spot with a ‘visitor’ parking sign and head back to the courthouse.

I get to the jury meeting room at about 8:10 and it’s packed. They had just started to watch a propaganda film on why trial-by-jury is so important, complete with previous jurors talking about how they were nervous or didn’t want to do it because it would take time out of their day, but in the end it was a learning experience for all.

I’ve been called for duty before and it was the same video so I didn’t pay much attention to it. I asked the bailiff about validating my parking ticket and she asks if I parked on the 5th or 6th level. I said I wasn’t sure, but the spot said “visitor”, and she said if it wasn’t on the 5th or 6th level I might get a parking ticket. I grumbled and she stamped my ticket.

After the movie, the bailiff called off thirteen names for the first jury selection pool and we went to the court room. I wasn’t among the first thirteen and took my seat in the audience with the other 40 people who weren’t chosen.

The judge gave his spiel about the history of trial-by-jury and ask some preliminary questions of us all (do we have any friends or family in local law enforcement, do we know about this case already, do we think we can’t be partial, etc.) and then he introduces everyone in the room: the two bailiffs, the clerk, the prosecuting attorney and investigating police officer, the defense attorney and the defender. Then he tells us about the case.

The defendant was charged with 21 counts of sexual misconduct with his two step-daughters, ages 7 and 10, and they also threw in 6 or so counts of drug charges (meth, weed, paraphernalia). It was charged that he had sexual intercourse with both daughters (I would call that rape, but they did not) and performed oral sex on them and forced them to perform oral sex on him. His wife, the mother of the two daughters, is sticking by her man and says the girls are lying. The children have since been placed with Child Protective Services.

One juror, a father of two daughters himself, said right off the bat that he did not feel he could be impartial in this case. After the first round of questioning by the two attorneys, they excused four jurors, kept the other nine, and four people were called from the audience. Another round of questioning, and two were excused. Two more were selected and questioned and finally they had selected a jury. After three and a half hours I was free to go.

For this I will get $15 from the county.

I didn’t stay to hear any testimonies, which would have included the two children, so I have no idea how everything will pan out. The trial is expected to end later today.

I’m sort of glad I was never selected because I don’t know how “fair and balanced” I could have been. Think about it. Two young girls say they were raped and fondled by their step-father, their mother doesn’t believe them, and they have to recount everything in front of a room full of strangers. Seven and ten years old. Their mother doesn’t believe them.

How horrible a world in which we live.

In other bad news… I have not quit smoking. I lasted maybe 24 hours before breaking down and having a cigarette after an extremely horrible day last week and another one over the weekend. I’ve been going a little psycho lately, due in part to my own issues and in part to the birth control I’m on, which makes me feel like I have bipolar disorder. Or maybe it’s not because of the Pill, but because I really do have bipolar disorder.

In any event, I will make another attempt to quit this weekend, as I think a weekend quit will suit me better.

This shit is so fucking hard.

It’s not so much the physical effects as the damn mental dependencies. I feel as if I suck royally for not being strong enough to stay quit. The Partner and The Canadian? They’re quit one week yesterday.

Fucking a I hate this shit.

I exhaled my last drag at 11:41:47 PM this evening.

After The Partner lost three pairs of headphones to Wilson (and his fourth pair are now sporting duct tape), I was careful to put mine out of his reach. Apparently he can sniff them out, because I lost my first pair to him yesterday. He chomped through the plastic casing, leaving only a thin string. They could not be salvaged.

On a lighter note, I can graduate this December (as long as I don’t fail any courses, of course). December. THIS December. Me. A graduate.

I will be done with all of my required courses for both my major and my minor by December. I could stretch it out another semester, tacking on another minor, Law and Society, but I’m not interested in the courses offered under that minor. And rather disappointing for me, if I were to add on a Spanish minor I wouldn’t graduate until summer 2007 at the earliest. That’s too long for me. Plus, there’s always grad school and independent learning. I’ll make an appointment tomorrow to meet with my adviser to schedule for the next two semesters and double-check that I can actually graduate in December and I’m not just delusional.

Holy shit. One Maymester, one summer, and one more fall semester and I’m officially EDUMACATED!

I urge you to hurry on over to this little flash movie, Cows With Guns, written and sung by indepedent artist Dana Lyons and animated by Bjørn-Magne Stuestøl.

You can support Dana Lyons by purchasing his work here.

There are roughly 70 days left of this semester. To remind myself of everything I must accomplish in these 70-some-odd days, I’ve posted some calendars above my desk:

In March, I am given one week without anything major, Spring Break:

April is the same story, only there is no official university break, just a breather before I get slammed the following week:

(On a side note, these [rather poor quality] images are either proof that [1] we need a better camera or [2] I need to practice my indoor flash photography. Eh.)

The big ass kicker of this semester is my Honors Seminar research proposal, which (as I’ve mentioned before and shall mention again for the next 68 days) has me sweating:

As the Stickies remind me, I’ve got 68 days left to do the necessary background research and literature reviews plus compiling it all into a proposal of 20-25 pages. Holy freaking cow I need some Valium.

I met with my advising professor yesterday to hash through some ideas and I think I’ve got a topic and a title. The topic, which I’ll share at a later date, requires me to first familiarize myself with the theories of George Herbert Mead, though, as my research will rest upon his concepts of the ‘I’ and the ‘Me’.

“Your research,” said my professor, “may even be publishable.” This I’m not holding my breath on, as undergraduate publication is difficult to attain and who knows if I’ll be able to pull this off in the first place. My topic choice is fairly new in the groves of academe and I’m mostly concerned there may not be much foundational work for me to go off of.

Charting new territory in two semesters (and one summer) of undergraduate work may be a sure-fire way to kill myself.