20 Questions or I'm Just Curious

To the Court Reporter (Days 1-4):

1.) Do you type in shorthand? If so, is it a special variety or just the standard old type? If not, how do you type so maniacally fast?

2.) Did you go to stenographer school? Does that even exist? What motivates one to choose such a profession?

3.) What is the deal with the tape that runs off the top of the machine? It's only maybe an inch wide, so it can't possible house the actual court transcripts. Can it?

4.) How do you pick up case-specific terminology? Do you study certain types of words in advance so you recognize them? Do you ever feel confused?

5.) Have you ever considered consulting a stylist? Were the '80s the best of times for you?


To Lawyers (or Wannabe Lawyers):

6.) Did you star in a lot of plays in high school?

7.) Did you a lot of action (and by "a lot," I mean "any") during that period in your life?


To the County of Tioga:

8.) Can you please hurry up and send me my measly jury duty compensation check?


To My Sister's Friends in State College:

9.) Do I legitimately look like an 18 year old freshman?

10.) Should I regard your assumptions of such as complimentary?

11.) If you are a dude, do you want to marry the Bush twins? If so, which one is more your style? If the Olsen twins were concurrently throwing themselves at you, would you still opt for Jenna and/or Barbara?


To Anyone Who Has a Myspace:

12.) Have you heard of mydeathspace? Does it creep you out? Does it evoke feelings of melancholy? How about disgust? Does it make you irrationally fearful of driving a car or approaching trains or swimming, if only temporarily? Does it reek of exploitation, in your opinion? Does it peak your curiousity, despite your best efforts?

13.) After viewing the abovementioned site, do you immediately feel driven to check out your myspace profile, just in case, to make sure it presents the most accurate and current representation of who you are at the moment?


To Jessica Simpson and John Mayer:

14.) Really, you're together? It just seems so odd. Though I guess you deserve each other. (And, I wouldn't despise you so much, John Mayer, if you hadn't forced that idiotic "Daughters" song upon me. It reinforces tired and ridiculous gender-based stereotypes and it refuses to get out of my head for forever every time I hear it.)


To All of My Recently Married Friends:

15.) Will one of you hurry up and have a baby for me to play with? Please?


To the Marketing People at Dove:

16.) Do you know that you are brilliant?


To Anyone and Everyone:

17.) Would you rather have a third nipple or no belly button (assuming that you cannot have either cosmetically altered?)

18.) If you are suddenly doomed from this point forward to spend the rest of your existence trapped in a neverending television episode, would you choose to stick it out on A.) Seventh Heaven, B.) The Simple Life, C.) The Price is Right, D.) The Osbournes, or E.) Full House?

19.) What kind of career do you think I should ultimately shoot for? (Give me some direction!)

20.) Would you rather be oblivious/slightly dim, but consistently and genuinely happy or aware/highly intelligent, but prone to brooding?

Driven to Drink (An Unfortunately Appropriate Title)

Jury duty is done. The time I spent locked in a room full of soft-hearted, crisp-tongued Crazies "deliberating" was the most excruciatingly awful experience in my adult life. Seriously. I'm still fuming, and it takes a lot to make me angry, let alone enraged. I won't delve into details of the case or why I believe I was correct, as it's more or less irrelevant at this point. (I think that I am no longer restricted from discussing the the whole situation. If anyone knows otherwise, let me know, cause I'd rather not get arrested.) What I will say is that, for over 5 hours, I was trapped with a bunch of irrational, combative locals who were apparently incapable of separating their personal feelings/laughably ridiculous speculative assumptions from the evidence presented. This is particularly bothersome, as, at the conclusion of the trial, we were charged by the judge with clear instructions as to how to try the case according to the law. Basically, we were told to only consider the evidence presented to render a verdict. It makes sense to me. Sure, it is difficult to remain truly unbiased and unopinionated throughout a 5 day period. It is difficult to not feel sympathy for a very old man who went through a very rough time. But, it is ultimately necessary to cast aside any personal feelings and consider the evidence, as presented, alone when determining the outcome. And maybe I am naive, but I tried extremely hard to do so, and had stupidly hoped that everyone else would do the same. I took pages and pages of notes. I listened attentively. I sometimes made faces at the attorneys when they made jarring remarks. (I guess I tend to lack self-control in terms of nonverbal commentary.) I didn't sacrifice a week of my life and a week of my pay in order to carelessly toss money at someone, consequences be damned. I walked into deliberations with a fairly strong idea of where I stood, with the hopes of having a semi-intellectual/mature discussion to see how everyone else interpreted the information. Heh.

I was very vocal from the start, constantly attempting to redirect the focus of the conversation to the evidence. Apparently, this made me a huge target for the Crazies/sentimental mommies, who quickly located each other and dominated the discussion. It got a bit nasty. The other girl that was making similar statements as I was whispered to me, "I hate it when people try to patronize me because I'm younger." I responded, "Yeah, I hate it when people who are clearly less than bright attempt to address me in a patronizing tone. Though it is kind of humorous." I like to tell myself that my ability to string together a semi-complex sentence using proper grammar and words slightly more colorful than "good" and "bad" may have been intimidating. And, I'll admit, I can adopt a haughty tone when I feel attacted. For whatever reason, I wasn't well-received by most. As a result, I had a battery of snippy, ridiculous (and often irrelevant) questions/comments hurtled at me. They include, but are not limited to:

"You just want us to vote because you already have your mind made up and you want to see how many people you need to get on your side." (Eh, voting is such an insane concept to suggest in the midst of a jury deliberation. How dare I?)

"Have you ever been on pain medication, honey?" (I haven't. My mom has. No relevance, regardless.)

"I guess you ain't never had surgery." (And?)

"Well, what do we need to say to change your mind?" (This was actually asked by a nice person in a nice way. I believe I told her something to the effect of, "a well presented argument based on evidence." In my head, I definitely said, "something that is slightly less batshit crazy and passably rational.")

"Look at them laughing now. Let's see how much they're laughing later when we're all stuck in a hotel because they wouldn't change their minds." (This was directed at me and the other young girl who wouldn't change our minds. I was probably smirking at that point or something. I told them that I packed extra soda for such an occasion. Plus, we'd get an extra $25.00 (our whopping daily pay rate, after the initial 3 days). Plus, I like adventures. And ultimately, I wouldn't allow their lame scare tactics to effect me. Unfortunately, it can be inferred that they did weave others into their web of Batshit Crazy GroupThink with this suggestion. Especially by speculating that they probably wouldn't be allowed to contact their families in such an occasion or to get their daily medicines. Which is total crap. But whatever.)

"Oh, honey, this ain't nothing like Hell." (Coming from a woman sitting near me who apparently peered over my shoulder to read the note I was penning. It read, "I bet this is what Hell feels like." I think I told her that she was quite possibly correct because Hell might be more pleasant.)

"Them young girls, they never think nobody should be held responsible for nothing." (I believe I responded to this with, "Are you kidding me?")

Those are just a few examples. I think I blocked out a bunch of it. And, far worse than anything they said to me was their collective basis for their conclusions. We had piles of evidence sitting on the table. Yet, more often than not, they kept saying, "If I were a doctor, I would have ________," or "A good doctor would ________." Or they passed time by making blanket medical statements based on their own experiences, rather than the evidence, or even fact. I don't know how many times I asked for documentation supporting the statements I was hearing. I kept repeating, "Doctors are human. They are not gods. They are entitled to lives. Please consider the evidence. We have very specfic timelines to base our decision on." It was basically my mantra for about 4 hours straight. Not that it mattered. I seriously thought I was going to puke a couple of times. (We were, thankfully, permitted to use the bathroom.) I honestly wouldn't have minded being in the minority if I thought there was a decent basis for the majority decision, as documented through various pieces of evidence. That would have been fine. I thought both sides actually presented very good arguments in the courtroom. Unfortunately, I just wasn't seeing any of that during deliberations. It appeared to be a rather whimsical decision (just my speculation, of course.) Three of us held out for hours. They finally got the final guy to cave, but another girl and I stood by our opinions until the end. (In civil cases, there only needs to be a 10/12 agreement.) And I would have continued to maintain my position throughout, unless someone could have come up with a legitimate, well-supported argument to the contrary. Even though I desperately wanted a cigarette. As cheesy as it sounds, this was a lot more important. I mean, both sides invested a lot of time and money into this case and deserved to have it considered carefully, in my opinion. I do have to say that I am rather proud about standing my ground and being extremely vocal about my point of view. I don't know if I would have had the courage to do so a few years ago.

Admittedly, I was embarrassed to walk into the courtroom and listen to the Lead Crazy read the verdict. I wanted no association with it whatsoever. I threated to find a sharpie and write, "I Held Out" across my chest. Yesterday's ordeal helped me recognize that, above all else, I am most offended when I fear that my intelligence is being insulted. I simply do not want to look dumb or to be associated with dumb people. Especially dumb/unkind people. That's a pretty lethal combination. Ultimately, there is nothing I can do about my association with these people. If those present in the courtroom presume that I was just another sheep in their herd of Crazy, I can't do anything about it. And I just have to accept it and know that I did my best, as much as I hate it.

So, I have learned that grown adults still have difficulties following directions. They still bully people. They still remain self-focused to such an extent that they apparently do not possess the capablities to separate their own experiences from entirely different ones. Most importantly, I have come to the conclusion that unless I'm suing someone, I will never opt for a trial by jury in Tioga County.

And, yes, on my way home, I stopped at a bar and pounded a beer. By myself. It was that necessary. I have hit a new low.

Think Positively

In an effort to remain positive about my current servitude to the county government, I compiled a list of reasons why jury duty doesn't suck so much.

1. I don't have to arrive until 8:30 AM. (1/2 hour later than I typically waltz into work.) However, it has come to my attention that if I fail to show up within 5 minutes or so from the time I am expected, I will receive one phone call. If this effort to reach me is unsuccessful, the sheriff will arrive at my door and promptly arrest me. Out of mere curiosity, I inquired as to whether or not I'd be slammed against a car and handcuffed under given hypothetical circumstances. Apparently so, if necessary. Jury duty is hard core. If only Kevin Bacon were the local sheriff . . .
2. The lunch break lasts at least one hour. (This is pretty generous compared to my 30 minutes total on a standard work day.) Plus, we get extra breaks of various lengths throughout the day when an important person seems to fear that the jurors are starting to fall asleep. As a result, I am guaranteed to have a consistent enough supply of nicotene dirtying up my bloodstream.
3. Free cookies. A new assortment sits on the counter every morning. (Sure, they are store bought, and I haven't actually consumed any yet, but I take comfort in their presence.)
4. I can wear whatever I want to, short of sweatpants. Today, I wore flip-flops. My toes, at the very least, loved their lives.
5. It is rather entertaining to watch the lawyers getting snippy. Scouting the scene for an eye roll or huff keeps me invested in the action. There are about seven of them, so the potential certainly exists for some heated comments/snide nonverbal expressions.
6. The tip staff (jury wranglers) are cute and chatty older gentlemen who sometimes wear bowties or pink suit jackets.
7. I have a good seat. Front and center, just like I like it. Additionally, jurors # 3 and # 5 are nice guys who laugh at me a lot.
8. I have the opportunity to fondly reminisce about simpler times upon each entrance/exit of the courtroom, as we are forced file down the hallway in a pre-determined, single-file line, like elementary school students heading to the bathroom. We are also counted often. I attempted to get everyone to march, but I guess people didn't think that it would be the most fun thing ever to do. Oh, well. (Another juror offered a comparion to a herd of cattle. Personally, I'm much prefer to think of myself as a kindergartener, rather than a cow. Though, I don't know, I might resemble the latter more closely.)
9. My chair is actually kind of comfy, despite its harsh appearance. And it swivels!
10. I get to do a lot of people-watching. And to make attempts at figuring out strategies and such. It can be quite interesting, at times.
11. Free (if temporary) accessories! We, as jurors, get to wear oh-so-stylish lanyard-type necklaces that attach to an id card that both reads "juror" and displays a keystone. Hot stuff!
12. I get to brush up on my note-taking skills. Who knows of they will make any sense by the end of the whole ordeal, but it's keeping me busy.

I know, you're jealous. No worries, though. I hope that you too, will have the grand opportunity to serve on a jury of your own sometime in your lifetime.

This is Just to Say

* When posting the pros and cons of moving away, I regretfully omitted one of the hugest reasons as to why I'm sad about skipping town. I will be ditching my work soulmate, Jenni (she received this title from a very drunk me at her very fun wedding.) She is great. Though we are always very focused on our work and would never ever be found chatting about things such as workman's comping oneself or ebay dependencies or doggie valium or gender degredation, we enjoy each other's company (silently, of course). She also made me a copy of the Grey's Anatomy soundtrack. (I love it lots.) She is also extremely crafty, to such an extent that she now serves as my personal Hallmark store, minus the cheesy wordings. She will have her own business someday. And, she makes very good chocolate chip cookies. There will be much to miss.

* After reading my previous post, Nick informed me of what he'd like to speak about at my funeral. I told him to post it as a comment, but he didn't, so I am forced to paraphrase. He claims he will talk about my creepy Kevin Bacon fascination and bring along a cardboard cutout of the actor. (I request a long haired version!) At the end of the service, he plans to fold Kevin up and tuck him into the coffin. I love it! Nick is a very good buddy, by the way. He recently made his maiden voyage to the great town of Wellsboro. He loves it a lot. I know it. He is now very jealous of Tioga Countians. Nick things he is ghetto-fab. His away messages are slightly unreadable. He the super star wedding attendee of the summer. He loves his powder blue velour jump suit. He is very tolerant of silly drunkeness. He would not let me pin sponges to myself and call my costume "self-absorbed" for his Halloween party. He loves pictures, as long as he is in them.

* Megan informed me that my emails are,"like poetry, but not." It made me smile. Megan is very cool. She is also very short. She is the best little volleyball coach/former player. She rocks the spandex. She has an extremely sunny disposition, except in the winter months. She loves Ohio a whole lot, even though she moved away. And Friends, even though there are no new shows. Playing Get Drunk Friends and Get Drunk Jeopardy with her is a blast. We have fun, except for when I act like a twit. She has bouncey/curly hair. I covet it. She loves math. And beer. She especially loves The American President.

* I have to go to jury duty selection tomorrow. I am not especially pleased. In our little dinky town, almost none of the cases actually make it to trial, so I'm told. So, though I've known for a while that I was selected, I was completely banking on not actually having to show up. I called the jury hotline this afternoon, and I wasn't so lucky. So, I am trying to devise the best plan of action for getting out of actually being picked as a juror. I think I should try to portray myself as either bigoted or unstable. Since I am a crappy liar/actress, I'm thinking the latter is my only hope. I will have to work up some tears.

* I was called something to the effect of a "disgrace to myself and all womenkind," today. I had just made a comment about how I would not want someone pushing around the pockets of fat that envelop my spleen. I was just being silly (kind of), so I think it was maybe a bit extreme. But maybe not . . .

* My brother thinks it looks like I have a mullet in my profile picture. Oops! I actually had a modified femme-mullet when I was around 9 years old. I cried for days after the damage was done.

* Sometimes I feel as though I have the same epiphanies over and over again. They always seem fresh, though.

* My aunt worries that her three year old "might have a bit of Sara in her." Apparently, she watched herself dance around in front of a mirror for a half hour the other night.