--old Dexy's song
Today I worked up an opposition which fascinated me, and soon I found myself in that kind of syncopated finger-snap-focus mental "lose yourself in the oblivion of deep thought" rhythm that makes work so much more than merely tolerable, that arcane "second consciousness", entirely non-mystical, other than the simple mysticism of consciousness, which arises when the mind plots patterns in space, outlining the way words present on nine pages, a kind of architecture of imagery and idea.
I finished everything with a good bit of time left in the day, but the number of things to be copied and mailed seemed quite substantial. To pitch in and relieve the work pressure, I took two of the documents down the road to Office Depot, where a capable Depot staff person ("porter"?, "conductor"? "Uncle Joe"? at the Depot) put the documents into monster copiers, which churned out 45 copies of each document for a massive filing in a matter of minutes. I was back at my desk within minutes, getting e mail about how the filing was on its way, and had time to have phone calls on other matters prior to heading home. I spoke with an opposing counsel who described how his firm had grown to over 700 lawyers. As a lawyer whose "mega-firm", the largest in town, has scaled the heights to 4 lawyers, it's difficult to imagine. I've never been in any firm larger than 85 lawyers, and that seemed large to me indeed.
The year begins with a lot of travel. Next week I must go to McAllen for a hearing on Tuesday and to Raleigh, North Carolina on Thursday night for a meeting on Friday. The "Arctic Blast", long storied on the local weather, proved more blast than truly Arctic, but I'm still looking forward to the relative warmth of south Texas. I wonder if any butterflies will be visible in McAllen. If not, I'll content myself with birds.
This weekend my dulcimer class meets on Saturday. Next weekend the club has one of those major dulcimer get-togethers, with a teacher and longer hours. I will only want to attend one of the two, but I must decide which one. I suppose that's what last minute whims are for in this world.
Mere months after I completed my Texas Mandatory Continuing Legal Education requirements, I see that my California requirements are almost due. I should have about enough hours from all the Texas courses I've taken to meet the California requirements, but as the requirements and documentation slightly differ, I'll have to focus on whether my late January will be spent listening to CDs of lawyers drone.
I have a cool idea. But I must find software that will inexpensively let me write sheet music with three or four "voices" (i.e., instrument sounds) at typically-defined-notation musical time, and then play the songs--almost like a player piano of chord organ or synthy effects. I know such a thing exists, because I even have dim memories of such a music generator for the Commodore 64 or 128. So many things want to mimic Yamaha synths or 96 track recording studios. But I want something to mimic a Wurlitzer for which I write the sheet music, without quite spending on a MIDI. My idea is simple, but promising. Now I must just make it happen, if I can.
I also will get this very efficient Office Depot, or perhaps the neighborhood stationery shop, to draw up letterhead for the Feeder Guppy Rescue League, using designs that
miscelena kindly made for me. I had a memory this week of how much the local community college in California loved it when I donated my telescopes, and how fish tanks deserve associate degrees, too--much easier to arrange than tracking down elementary school teachers, and bio sections of community colleges love fish tank swag, too, I'm betting and guessing.My freecycle group seems to have disappeared. I have not decided whether to join the larger group nearby.I had a good enough experience on the freecycle, though I got disenchanted with a sense of "grasping" some of the would-be donees seemed to express. I vaguely wonder if my old group started a new group and made all the posts "friends only", but I know that is just LJ addiction talking to me, like morphine. But fun morphine. Maritain and Cocteau could have left Art and Religion behind, if only they could write about LJ.