295 (Day 4) in Book Four: Ichi-no-Tani 2017

I awoke a little after 6 this morning. I stayed in bed, hoping that I could wait long enough for the sun to come out. A foolish hope. I’ve said before that the sun rarely shines here and today was no exception. I stayed in bed, waiting, for a full 98 minutes. The sun was not forthcoming. The sky did not brighten in any perceivable way. Dark. Grey. Yet again.

I select my most pressed suit from the closet. A grey number purchased two years ago. I hate this suit. It looks lovely and should be my best suit… but the tailor fucked it up badly. The sleeves are about a half inch too short and the pants… oh the pants… the pant legs were hemmed by a prankster who likely believed Steven Urkel was the height of fashion. But today is the one day a year where we see the Grand Jury, so pressed suit matters more than extreme-nerd pant shortness.

After dressing and quickly eating a bowl of cereal, I trudge out the door and climb into my car. The drive to work is quick and the only person I don’t beat to the office is Cecilia. We exchange pleasantries and discuss how she shouldn’t feel overwhelmed by how much work she’s missed. The exchange quickly demonstrates how out of practice I have become with social interaction. I slink away to my desk and power up the array. No new e-mails. No new cases. My To Do List from last week glowing yellow and bright… reminding me of the 14 things I need to do. Of course I immediately recognize that “need to do” has no urgency. These things must get done and, truly, should get done sooner than later. But then I consider my predecessor and former Boss. Both of them had cases that needed to be disposed of because they had surpassed the One Year Deadline. The closest case to that I currently face won’t hit 1 Year until July 2017. In that case, I’ve already sent a plea bargain… so it is as close to being finished as I have the power to make it. Besides, Wife and I already agreed that we would be out of this area by July 2017. I’m ready. And I’m not. And I imagine I’ll feel that way until the very final moments. Both desperate to be free of this place and concerned for my ability to achieve gainful employment of at least a comparable salary.

I bring up the work calendar to distract myself; but already my mind has started down a different path. I’m thinking of the internet and laptop back at the house. How neither is functioning well. How, whether it is a map of Pandora or an erotic story I’m working on, neither the internet nor the laptop allow for anything more than 5 minutes of functionality before they both go haywire. A rather fitting metaphor for how things have been. When I first moved here, I was excited for the prospect of starting. But that lasted a metaphorical five minutes. Reality was quick to crush the spirit. And no sooner do I hear my inner voice say “reality” than the horrors of this weekend flood my mind. The President of the United States delivered swag “Made in China” during his inauguration. The POTUS and his staff held a Press Conference where direct (and petty) lies were shared and no questions were allowed. The POTUS’ staff blatantly lied to the press, and when called out on it, threatened the press. And the best I can think is… in the next few weeks, we will either see Trump Supporters horrified and withdrawing support; or emboldened and bolster support. And when that happens; we’ll have to deal with it. We will have to embrace those who are horrified and forgive them for being taken in by an exposed fascist and tyrant. We will have to disavow those who are emboldened and learn ways of exposing their lies and hate. It is a heavy time to be mindful in this country. It is a difficult time to be intelligent in this country. And that makes living in the deepest Iowa Region of Trump Support considerably more difficult.

As these thoughts disturb me, my eyes fall onto the clock. Five minutes until 9. I collect a legal pad and a pen that is minutes from being dried up and head out to the courthouse. The walk is brief but grey and lifeless. Even on the coldest days of Winter, the streets of Des Moines or Omaha were bustling with individuals going to something or leaving from something. But 9 am on main street here; and there aren’t even moving vehicles let alone pedestrians.

As I enter the courthouse, I am instantly grabbed by the Jailer. She was reviewing files and it turns out; there are people that still owe us time in jail from as far back as 1992! I suppress my usual shudder and disgust and write a note to take it up with Ran. I walk to the elevator and take the car up the three floors. Under most circumstances, easily walkable but the persistent grey has my legs feeling worse every day. I take a seat at the back of the courtroom and note about 14 people present. The grand jury selection pool. Court begins and seven names are called to the front. The judge swears the members in; and then informs them that there is really nothing for them to do. The judge cedes the floor to Ran, who repeats that there is really nothing to do. Grand Juries are rarely needed and many places haven’t needed the Grand Jury for decades… but it is an example of “better to have it and not need it; than need it and not have it.” Then they are all allowed to leave. Seven chosen, seven left behind, and the Grand Jury business is over. As swift as it was pointless. I meet Ran in the make-shift Law Library and share with him the news the Jailer gave me. As we talk, another attorney joins us and asks me if I am ready for the ten o’clock. I have nothing scheduled at ten o’clock. Technically, I have nothing scheduled for the entire day. So a phone call is made to clarify. A former case of Ran’s was given to a different attorney; but that attorney forgot about the case and would not be present for the day. As it was acceptable to the defense and to the judge; I tagged in. I simply had to represent the state and suggest that the agreement that had already been entered into was acceptable. It was my first District Court Appearance of the year; and it was entirely me on the fly, simply deferring to someone else’s work. Felt appropriate.

After that brief but odd encounter, I make my way back to the Law Library. Before I reach the opening (as there is no door) a Sheriff’s Deputy reaches me and lets me know that he will have a case for me from the weekend but he hasn’t finished the paperwork yet. He laughs and said that when they brought the man in, he demanded the Sheriff’s Office call Donald Trump because “this wouldn’t stand!” I laugh along and roll my eyes but feel the pit in my stomach deepen a bit. It is another reminder that I live in a place where Trump is revered as a savior despite all logical information to the contrary. I returned to the Law Library and conferred with Ran. We discussed potential game plans for the week and debated best possible ways to deal with the fact that people were not following through on prison requirements. As the conversation wound down, I excused myself and made my way back to the office. As I traveled in the rickety elevator car back to the first floor of the courtroom, my stomach sent a hunger pain through my body. It reminded me that in Omaha; the courtroom had two dinning areas in the basement so that attorneys, clients, guests, and judges could grab food. Meanwhile, the courtroom I was leaving didn’t even have a vending machine.

I walked rather lazily back to the office. Through the gray world of zero cars, zero pedestrians, zero life. And sitting back at my desk; I notice zero new e-mails. I plug my dying cell phone in to the wall charger I brought from home. A Police Officer texts me that a juvenile in his area is truant. I chose not to respond. I figure my silence to be a better response than “who the hell cares?” though that is certainly what I’m feeling. My phone rings and it is another individual wanting me to let them get their license. We have to make legal requests to the DOT for them to remove license holds when a person owes the county/state so much money. It is the number one reason we have Cecilia. And as I don’t know how to do any of that; I simply pacify the woman by saying “I’ll let our collections department know and they will get on it as soon as they can.”

After placing the phone back on its cradle; the mixture of hunger, apathy, and grey begin to affect my energy reserves. I close my eyes and they stay closed for a solid five minutes. At first, I simply see the black nothing behind my eyelids. Then it transforms into quick glancing shapes and images; black pencil skirt, large breasts contained by a Robin’s Egg blue button up shirt, dogs running through a park, a quiet neighborhood with grass… various things. As the images slow to a large open field with an expansive blue sky; I realize I may actually be falling asleep at my desk and force my eyes open. I decide to do something at least passively active (a contradiction in terms that is not lost on me) and click open the latest articles from Cracked.com. One about courts that grabs my curiosity. At least as it is about the law, I can pretend it is a work related activity. But before I started, Cecilia stopped by my office to talk for a solid 20 minutes. I hope by listening I was helping. She’s got a lot on her mind and a lot that she is taking on. And our/her clients aren’t helping any. They are acting like spoiled children. “You didn’t take care of this on my time table, so screw you!” Guys… I get it. You’re criminals that were being punished. You didn’t do things correctly. And half of my staff were gone due to a death. And half of the COURT staff were gone due to illness. So… stop being mean to Cecilia because you waited 120 days on something that was to be completed within 90 days. I do feel bad, though. I tried to help someone. It didn’t get done. This defendant is whining and yelling and bitching. And Cecilia is sticking up for me and for the office. That’s… deeply honorable.

After reading the Cracked.com article about courts, and genuinely agreeing with the conclusions it made, I glance at the clock to see that it is 12:30. I consider getting lunch and know it is the wise and prudent thing to do. But my capacity for wise and prudent has been rapidly diminishing these last 8 months. Instead, I open my ears to listen to scuttlebutt around the office as I sort paperwork.

Massive Winter Weather Advisory for the next seventy two hours. Perfect. Because grey and miserable should really only be broken up by potentially dangerous. My fingers fly over the keyboard and bring up a few different weather services to confirm the news. By all accounts it looks like today will be fine; but there is an expectation of freezing rain and 7 inches of snow for much of Tuesday. The map I’m looking at goes from “Clear, no problem” Iowa on Monday; to “several colors, almost striated pattern” on Tuesday; followed by the entire state being covered with Blue for “snow” on Wednesday. Marvelous. I suppose we shall discover if a Snow-Pocalypse shall cover us or not. I suppose that is another good reason why things around here take time… we’re isolated, our county is broke, and we have no quality infrastructure… so there’s no possible way to do things in the Winter depending on how bad the weather can get.

As the one o’clock hour struck, I quickly considered what work I had wanted to complete by the end of the day. Then promptly decided, Screw that noise, went to the bathroom, and then returned to catch up on a few Prosebox entries. As I read Prosebox, my Facebook dinger went off. I checked what it was and it was a former friend and ex. T2. Her string of dance clubs in Bogota are a raging success, and she has been deeply enjoying her 2 week vacation in Australia. A borderline genius, who fell in love with Club Life and bowed out of the world, resurfaces as a massively successful South American Club Owner. Seems like there is a theme. My brother, typically successful in most things he ever did, created a job for himself and found massive success. The pattern I’m seeing… individuals who had success then create their job and have more success. As compared to me and my colleagues and current friends. Individuals who are bright, clever, intelligent… but not exceptional… who attempt to live a traditional life… and are boned at most turns.

All distractions have been used and all attempts to continue my day sans bothering other people have dried up. So reluctantly, I stand and begin to approach the To Do List. Simply looking it over briefly, I can already spot things that have been completed simply by me doing things when I felt like it. My list contains reminders that cannot be worked on (how many times can you harass an attorney awaiting a returned phone call); and it contains unsolvable problems (how can you phone someone who has no telephone); but there are still some things that can be tackled. For example, I have the entire “discoverable” packet finished for a case and send that off. It takes a full fifteen minutes to gather all of the materials, put them together, and deliver them to Jude for processing. But 15 minutes of my day isn’t enough. I scan the to do list again and notice two forms I could draft and file. First, I have to make sure the Judge didn’t beat me to it. After all, the forms are supposed to be the Judge’s orders; but the American Justice System often requires that attorneys write what the Judge gets credit for. As expected; despite the plea being filed and entered into almost two weeks ago; the file remains open… waiting for me to write something flowery and official… that the judge can file to close the case. I begin by opening the Plea Agreement; a document that carefully spells out the recommendation for how the case should be closed, and in a voice not my own I write out (idea for idea) everything that already exists in the plea deal I wrote out and filed. Essentially, two weeks ago I filed a document that said, “THIS should happen.” And now, I am drafting and filing documents that say, “THIS should happen so sayeth the Judge.” But at least that is likely to take an hour or more.

I open folders, I reform words that are already on the page, and I submit to an internet folder that goes to the judge. I do this process 8 times. Apparently, I’m getting better at it as the entire thing from beginning to ending took only thirty minutes. That includes the phone calls and Citizen Concerns I fielded. It makes me consider that one day, perhaps one day soon, not only will I have nothing to do… but I will have nothing that needs to be done. On that day; I may simply walk out of the building. As it is now, there are still things I could do. Mostly, things that I’m waiting on. Always waiting. We’ll see if Ran has any ideas on that stuff for me. As it stands now… I have less than 60 minutes remaining. Might as well publish this to the net and strongly consider my evening options.

I want to work out and take care of some very important personal business (I still have a Thank You Letter I need to finish from Christmas!). Hopefully, I’ll have the strength of will to take care of that. Though… there is always the possibility that something unexpected happens in the next hour that changes everything.

(I acknowledge I tried to write this in a more Novel Narrative format. The tense and perspective, in review, seem… confused. It is elements of style like that which still impede any progress I may have at being a true writer).

A good friend on facebook shared the following; and I support the sentiment: “Next week, thousands of people will descend on Washington D.C. for the 2017 March for life. These people, however beloved, are not my tribe. I don’t share their passion for their cause.
Despite this, I will NEVER, EVER, EVER, call these people ‘pathetic’ or ‘whiners’ or ‘sore-losers’ or ‘looters’ or ‘rioters’ or any of the other truly ridiculous names I have heard for protesters in the last two days.
These marchers are good people, resisting a government policy they find intolerable. That puts them in the company of great swaths of patriotic American heroes ever since The Boston Tea Party.”

The key to this Country is not the everybody agrees. What has (before) made this country strong is that people disagree. 1776-1806 is a great 30 years of history to focus on to understand how dissent, conversation, argument, and compromise developed this nation.
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Also… I have seen in a LOT of social media places “Guh-awd, people. WHy all the political posts? Whateves. Lighten up.”

To that… I feel I MUST say:
When “Facts” matter; I’ll stop being a rabid Political Poster.
When Cabinet Positions aren’t filled by the likes of Betsy DeVos, I’ll stop being a rabid Political Poster.
When the President obeys the Constitution, I’ll stop being a rabid Political Poster.
When bi-partisan Ethics Committees stop pleading with the President to HAVE ethics, I’ll stop being a rabid Political Poster.

But we don’t live in that world anymore. We live in a world where the President ignores Constitutional Requirements. Where, when an ethics board criticizes the President, he opens an investigation into THEM. Where, when Journalists hold him to a minimum standard, the President threatens them. We live in a country where The President praises Vladamir Putin while belittling US Intelligence. Our President speaks fondly of Duterte, even while the man continues to murder civilians and threaten the United States. So no, I can’t pretend that politics don’t matter. I can’t yawn and go to sleep for four years. This should not be ignored: Our president is currently violating the Constitution of the United States and when asked about it; he says I won, it doesn’t matter. If you have ANY respect or concern for the United States… that kind of flippant, arrogant, dismissal of the Supreme Law of the Land should upset you.