Year in Review

This time of year, all manner of websites are doing their "best of 2005" reviews. Mostly in list format, you'll encounter these sometimes enlightening, but often predictable features on any subject imaginable. So far with just a cursory look at the web tonight, I've encountered one relating to the top celebrity fashion trends on Yahoo! (no, I didn't click the link) and another on Pitchfork (pitchforkmedia.com) enumerating the Top 50 albums of the year.

As website proprietor extraordinaire, who am I to buck the trend? Here goes part one of what may turn out to be a multi-part series.

My Album of the Year

I happen to agree with Pitchfork on this one: Sufjan Stevens - Illinois is the album that I most enjoyed in 2005. It amazes me that an album about the history of the state of Illinois could be as compelling as this one is. But once you hear the lyricism and music which comprise this album, all concern about the geographical focus disappears. In its place, your left with an appreciation for banjo playing the likes of which you never imagined possible.

Meal/Food of the Year

Sushi and sashimi at Jewel Bako. From the appetizer of tuna tartare (with caviar) to the last bite of toro, each piece of fish provided sensational taste and delicate texture. Presentation here was so crucial to the experience that the waiter came over and turned my dish 180 degrees after I had oriented the plate in such a way that it deviated from the proper display. Honorable mentions: Spotted Pig because the chef came from Berkeley's Chez Panisse (and the gastropub fare was great); Mesa Grill because Bobby Flay was actually there (damn you, Bourdain); Wogie's cheesesteaks for their hangover-related curative properties; Paul's Palace cheeseburger after my last final; and Brazilian BBQ because no fault can be found or will ever be found with all-you-can-eat meat.

Class of the Year

Each of my classes had a significant flaw which prevents it from attaining "class of the year" status. Environmental law involved too many federal laws; Trademarks severly lacked clarity and structure all the way up until the day of the final; Patents was lead by a professor who assigned entirely too much reading and spoke much too quickly to follow in class; and corporations, well, see below.

Professor of the Year

My corporations professor, John Coates, for designing an exam which, as many of my fellow students put it, incorporated "the worst of both worlds." Only the most devious and ingenious of all professors could envision a test which would create misery from the first day of the almost two-week finals period started to the very last minute of said finals period -- and be willing to administer such a tortue device without a hint of guilt or reluctance. Truly a magnificent achievement!

VICTORY

Done and done. More extensive post coming later.

A sign I'm growing old.

I can't, for the life of me, come up with any Christmas presents to ask for. In my youth, such a predicament would have been inconceivable; back then, this time of year represented a golden opportunity to stock up on unnecessary items and I took full advantage, straining the generosity of my parents with request for the newest video game system or whatever useless gadget happened to be in my sights at the time.

Now, I'm perusing website gift guides but remaining completely and utterly uninspired. I guess all that I really want this Christmas is for finals to end, for my grades to be at least as good as last semester, and for me to able to go home.

Delivery unto me

When there is snow on the ground, it's simple: I'd rather not go outside. That, of course, leads to problems when it is time to eat and the refridgerator is barren. This is a more common occurrence than one might expect because having food supplies on hand involves going to the grocery store. Hence, the central importance of delivery.

I've heard that the true measure of a town is its delivery options. While I'll admit it is nice to have choice of something more than Domino's pizza and cheap, stomach ache-inducing Chinese, a plethora of delivery options doesn't do all that much for me. It's all still delivery, and therein lies the problem. By the time I am hungry enough that delivery comes to mind, I am usually too hungry to wait the requisite 30-45 minutes for the guy on the bike to get here. This is true no matter what cuisine I've ordered.

It gets worse. By the time the food arrives, my hunger has mysteriously vanished, and I'm left with food I would have paid 20% less for if I had eaten it in the comfort of the restaurant. Plus, because it traveled from its place of origin to my building in the freezing cold, its bordering on lukewarm. Unsurprisingly, my appetite doesn't usually come rushing back.

Food delivery thus represents reason number 136,754 why someone needs to invent teleportation. To the inventors of the world: Do this simple task, and I'll help get you a patent on your invention free of charge. Depending on the outcome of my patents final tomorrow, this offer may be withdrawn for your own good.

Ready, set, go

First final tomorrow, a one hour in-class pipsqueak. If his former exams are any indication, it will consist of approximately ten questions, of which we are to answer six in short answer form. Sounds simple, right? Trust me, it's not. Though not as physically and mentally draining as the typical 4-hour behemoths law professors seem to favor, this format is deceptive in its simplicity. You have only 10 minutes per question, and a few of those precious units of time can easily be consumed while you fumble through your 60-page outline looking -- or perhaps desperately searching -- for the relevant subject matter. That means in all likelihood my mind will have to work at a break-neck pace and my fingers will have to move like the wind in order to develop, research, formulate, and, finally, commit to word processor anything close to an adequate answer. Let's just hope my typing ability is up to the task.

After it's done, the next step is to download the take-home portion of the exam, which we have been granted the rest of the exam period to finish. My goal is to get that done in the next day or two, so it isn't figuratively hanging over my head like a well-greased guillotine blade, and I can move on to the rest of my exams, which have been relegated to the backseat while I learned why Delaware is so important.

I shall return.

Mountain Man

For the last week or so, before I manage to fall asleep -- a simple task rendered somewhat difficult by school-related stress -- I've been reading this collection of Men's Journal articles entitled "Wild Stories." Within the 600-page book are numerous tales of outdoors-related activities as retold by various contributing authors.

The real-life stories provide the perfect mental escape from the rigors of studying. Right now, I would gladly trade my current task of memorizing the ways to invalidate a patent for trout fishing in Tierra del Fuego, racing open-wheel racecars at Sears Point, deep-sea fishing for marlin in Hawaii, researching Grizzly bears in Romania, and canoeing through Central America. When reading, I envision myself scaling the mountain, wading into the stream after a prize fish, or paddling down the mud-colored river looking out for piranhas -- anything to prevent my mind from dreaming about showing up to a final sans clothes or, even worse, spontaneously forgetting everything I've learned just as the exam proctor says, "You may now begin."

But other narratives, frankly, leave me perfectly content to be stuck in a study room, organizing and reorganzing my notes into outlines. Given the choice, I'd prefer a four-hour in-class final to participation in a foot race across the Sahara (the subject of the article got lost and had to eat bats to survive). I'd also rather write about trademarks than challenge the bicyclists who were competing against one another to break the one-hour distance record back in the early 1990s (the record peaked at about 35 miles!). And of course, even 24-hour take-home tests pale in comparison in terms sheer horror to being ship-wrecked in the South Pacific during WWII or taken hostage by armed teenagers in the Kashmir region between India and Pakistan.

Anti-snow measures

Snow

I really would

With December 25th rapidly approaching, Christmas trees are beginning to appear on street corners around the city. Although I'm going home right after finals, I must admit that I am tempted to buy one and set it up in our apartment. But not for the reason you may expect. I really don't have the time or energy to decorate a tree, and, besides, I don't have any ornaments or lights on hand. Furthermore, I am not planning to purchase gifts for my roommates (we are males, after all) and I am reasonably certain that they are similarly disinclined, so we have no real need for a place to display festively wrapped presents.

I want a christmas tree for one reason and one reason only: to be surrounded at all times by the smell of pine needles. Oh, how I love that fragrance. If the world wouldn't look at me as some kind of freak, I'd pull a Kramer and bottle the stuff. That way, I could wear the smell of Christmas 365 days a year and not be relegated to repeatedly walking by the tree vendors on Broadway to get a fix.