15-08.28.132 in Book Two: The Fifteenth Year of the Third Millennium of the Common Era

The relative insomnia continues. This morning, I was able to finally slip into unconsciousness around 5 am. Of course… I had court in the morning, so I was awake again by 7. And perhaps it is that fact that had me feeling like today would be a rough day.

I left my apartment on time… only to be stuck behind a long line of construction vehicles who found it utterly impossible to approach the speed limit. Therefore, I arrived at the office with scant few moments to spare before court started. Except… there were no parking spaces. The entire Employee Parking lot was full. Many vehicles there “Property of Douglas County Government.” Which means either there were big wigs present (there weren’t) or the county was, again, using our Employee Lot for its own personal parking lot. Because… why would Department of Corrections Programs Division need anything… we’re just here to help people who don’t deserve help. Bah. Damned city. I find a single open spot in the “Client” parking area and it is a 10 minute time limit spot. At this point, frack it. I need to be in court, I’m parking there. I rush into my office and… no paperwork. What? I check the schedule again to make sure I am supposed to be at work and… yes. With no other option, I return to the front desk in hopes that someone got the shifts wrong and has beaten me to the courtroom. As I am signing out, my boss emerges and informs me that there is something in his mailbox he thinks is for me. The paperwork. All righty then.

So now, truly late but with paperwork at least in hand, I depart the office bound for the prison facility and inside- my courtroom. On my way there, though, I am witness to my least favorite reality. A stunning vision of a young woman was walking up to the prison. Long straight sandy blond hair, well pressed white blouse, knee-length faded blue skirt and heels… walking with a sense of purpose and professionalism. Until the short, heavily-tattooed, greasy haired male approaching her reaches her. I could not hear the majority of their conversation as I was in a hurry but what I could catch, and the non-verbals I could see, told me enough. It was yet another beautiful woman who fell in love with a brutish criminal asshole. Whatever beauty and confidence the young woman showed prior to meeting back up with her boyfriend vanished as soon as she was again in his presence. She wilted visually and became an agreement machine acquiescing to whatever loud berating comment this small man dished out. In my many years working within Corrections, it is a scenario I have seen too often and it has given me a far too cynical view on women (at times). I understand, as I’ve read the studies and philosophies, that often times Rude, Brutish, and Criminal behavior is interpreted by the young female mind as “strength,” “independence,” or “leadership.” Traits specifically sought out in a cultural evolution sense. But the disconnect and horrible truth of it is frustrating. Beautiful women selecting emotionally stunted, cruel, and criminal men… at the time of their lives when the women are at the peak of their physical attractiveness and most fertile. And, of course, these women typically have a litter of children (this week alone the least amount of kids a defendant has admitted to is 4) which acts as a great potential to further the negative traits of the father and.... yeah… it is a reality I’ve seen so much in this position, that I need to actively and purposefully try to find examples that suggest my experience is an exception not the standard.

As I enter court, I make note that three defendants have already gone through the system before my arrival. I quickly take my position and behave as I normally do. My tardiness is not seen as exceptional nor as an interruption. These things happen to everyone including lawyers and judges and things progress normally. Until the bailiff’s computer has an issue. To pass the time, on the record, the judge asks me if I started school back up this week. So, on the record, I answer that no, I’ve been finished with school. It occurs to me that I might not have shared here why these questions are so embarrassing. And they are deeply embarrassing. You see, I’ve been in this office since May of 2012. In that time, I’ve seen lots of turn over. And here’s the typical rule: Court Room staffing is Law Students, PTR Supervisor is a 3L or… in extreme situations… a 3L awaiting bar results. And that is how it has always been. The longest a person has stayed in PTR after graduating from law school (prior to me) was a few months… tops. But then there is me. I am not a supervisor. I am still Court Room Staffing. Largely, due to my own wishes as I do not wish to cut ties with the attorneys and judges I interact with in the courtroom setting. But… it does open that embarrassment. Because I’m not merely a 1L or 2L. Nor am I a 3L that is not a supervisor. Nor am I awaiting my bar results. I have been out of law school for 14 months. It has been just over a year since I first took the bar exam. It has been 6 months since I took my second bar exam. And it has been 4 months since I became a licensed attorney. In all manner of ways but one… I am entirely equal to the public defender and prosecutor next to whom I stand. And so… being asked by every judge and attorney if I am still in school… if I am studying for the bar… if I am awaiting bar results.... it is an embarrassment. But I have no job but this. And this pays over $10 an hour and gets me in a courtroom some days. And that is important. A friend of mine called recently to offer encouragement… 5 years ago, she graduated from a MUCH better law school than I and she did MUCH better academically than I… and it still took her 9 months to find a job. So… I can’t submit to my pride and simply not do this job. Be it $120 a week or $330 a week.. it helps… it may take care of 66% of the rent or it may pay the rent for two months by itself… it helps. But… yeah. It is just one more twig onto the stick pile of crap that I’m processing emotionally.

When I return home, I am bushed. After two hours of sleep… of course I am! But I know intellectually that if I sleep during the day, it is going to make it harder to sleep at night. I try not to… but ultimately, I surrender to sleep and grab a two hour nap. I should read a book or catch up on PB reading but… as per usual, instead I do chores around the house and play video games.