3-D movies puzzle me. This relic of the 1970s has become the it thing for movies and moviegoers alike. But all I see is goofy glasses and an extra $5.00 paid to see a movie that wasn’t very good in the first place. I had my first 3D experience with Pixar’s Up. With tax, my bill was a whooping $17.25 with tax. Of the experience I can say this, I could fill an entire column about my love of that movie. However, did I really need to experience it in Disney “Real 3D”? I can safely say no. To me the ultimate purpose of 3D remains elusive. I see a scam to bilk money out of consumers for bad movies and a thing I don’t feels adds to my overall theater experience. To me, a good movie is a good movie regardless of the extra bells and whistles. Up will remain a favorite movie of mine but it doesn’t need 3D to make it special. Now, some will say the 3D needs to be properly done, i.e. where a movie is shot completely on 3D cameras like Avatar. But even then I cannot lauder Avatar like so many other “Cameron-heads.” When I look at a good film, I consider more than the special effects and pretty scenery. I consider plot, characters, dialogue, etc before I make a judgment about the film. I took all these into consideration after I saw Avatar (in 3D, IMAX as I was told that was the only way to “see” the movie). I came to a conclusion that many won’t agree with. Strip away Avatar’s really pretty scenery, strip away the blue people and what do you have? A boring movie. Yes, using 3D and special effects, James Cameron created a mash up of Dances With Wolves and any movie about protecting nature. Now, without 3D is Avatar “special”? Sure the special effects were astounding but the plot sucked. Avatar was nothing but a giant gimmick we collective fell for. I, for one, am dismayed that cheap, Hollywood gimmicks are once again leading us astray. You know it has gotten out of control when we are paying to see movies again in 3D that we did not even like when they first came out (hint: Star Wars: Episode I). I can help but wonder what is coming now that 3D movies are popular again. They also had smell-o-vision where the theaters would release smells that followed along with the movie. Hey, maybe I can finally figure out if George Clooney smells like fresh rain on a sunny afternoon that would be awesome right? Perhaps during the re-release of Titanic in 3D, they could flood the floor with icy water so we to can feel like Jack did. Better yet lets bring back vibrating seats. Yep, during certain showings of The Tingler in 1959, Vincent Price rigged certain seats in theaters with vibrating mechanisms in order to scare the audience.

by Caitlin Broo

Sometimes when I look back on my misspent youth, my mind will linger on my time as a peewee soccer player. My first team was named the Michelanglos, named for the best ninja turtle in history. In truth, I was simply terrible soccer player. As one of the least coordinated kid in history, I should have tried another hobby as a kid. I can still recall those sweltering summers, springs, and falls when I would be shuttled from field to field playing a game I hated. From the uncomfortable cleats to the pesky shin guards, I detested all things soccer.

When I went to college “Futbol” was the hipster thing to watch. It was the cool, European thing and I found myself dragged out of my nice warm dorm many a morning to partake in the games by my soccer nuts friends. I was a good person and kept my festering loathing to myself. But no more, I must speak up for those of us who just don’t get what the great big fuss is about.

I have many problems with the soccer. First, why does the clock count up? This questions bothers me most of all. All game clocks must count down it is a sports law. A clock that counts up robs a sporting match of so much tension. Who doesn’t sit on the edge their seat watching helplessly as the clock ticks down while your beloved team is behind by one point? When the clock ticks up, the urgency vanishes. Plus there are no breaks! How is a fan supposed to go to the bathroom or get a snack?

Second, I will admit I have watched enough soccer to know that there is a thing called the offside rule. Simply put the there always must be a defender between one player and the goal. So, unlike hockey, there are no breakaways. No heart racing moment when the player races down the field with only the goal tender in his path. Nope, instead you have that sweeper (a position I hated as a kid but frequently played) between you and the goalie at all times.

Third, it is a very boring game. 99.9999999% of a soccer game involves a bunch of grown men playing keep away at midfield. Commentary for a soccer game is a little like “Rooney pass to Beckham, Beckham passes to Cloverfield, and Cloverfield passes to Williams” etc. It never ends. All this back and forth, back and forth for maybe 2 minutes of scoring action, does make for a good spectator sport. Sure, I know hockey can be low scoring and comprised mostly of passing. But Hockey players do it on ice, on skates. I’d like to see David Beckham try that.

There are so many reasons why I detest soccer. Sure it might all stem from that time I took a soccer ball to the mouth when I was 8, the fact that I never got picked for the select team, or fifty million laps I ran in practice. But it is so much more than my petty squabbles from childhood.  Yes, it might be a cheap game to play and it appeals to so many because it is easy to play informally. But I still think I don’t hate many things and I am not a person to throw that word around liberally. However, I do hate and I freely admit these are irrational hatreds. I hate waking up early on a weekend. I hate washing socks and folding laundry. Most of all, I hate soccer.

By John Hutchinson

The Catholic Law Students Association is a student organization geared towards enabling people take ownership of their faith. It is entirely up to each and every individual to either act or fail to act; to practice or fail to practice. Your faith life works precisely the same as your law school career; you will only get out of it whatever you put into it. CLSA is here to make sure that everyone may take charge of their own faith journey, if they are so willing. The signature event of CLSA this semester will be Red Mass.

A Red Mass is a service dedicated to judges, lawyers, politicians, and legal vocations. They first appeared in France in the 1300s and were adopted by England. England has begun their court calendar year with a Red Mass for seven centuries and the United States Supreme Court continued the tradition.

On Sunday October 9th, at the 9:00pm service, Bishop Melczek will be presiding over the CLSA’s Second Annual Red Mass, here at St. Teresa’s. Faculty in attendance will be wearing academic regalia. Law students and legal professionals will be processing into the Red Mass with the Bishop. Law students and legal professionals need to RSVP at ValpoCLSA@gmail.com. Dinner will be provided following the service and all are welcome to join the Bishop and CLSA, and eat in community.

By John Hutchinson

The greatest sport in world history is soccer because it is the most watched, the most played, and the most followed sport on the planet. When a person watches the World Cup, the word ‘world’ carries a more literal meaning than its use in the ‘World’ Series. FIFA estimates that around 700 million people watched the 2010 FIFA World Cup Final live. No other sporting event draws in that many people.

A game of soccer is incredibly easy to start, which is probably why it is so popular in the developing world. All you need is a ball. However, sometimes you simply do without. When I was in primary school, we used stones in lieu of balls when there were none to be had. Not having a ball was not a deterrent. When teachers wanted to punish us, they took that which was nearest and dearest to our hearts; soccer. Detentions, suspensions, and silent lunches were useless forms of punishment, but teachers always knew to threaten soccer when they needed leverage. Such was the power of soccer.

Soccer is so universal, it is even a source of soft power. Soccer diplomacy has unlimited potential. The West engenders a lot of ill will from the rest of the world, and yet even when there is a US or UK flag burning rally, somewhere in the crowd there may be seen a random Liverpool soccer jersey. Perhaps there would be less ill will towards ‘Great Satan’ if our cultural attachés handed out more Chicago Fire or LA Galaxy jerseys.  It is not uncommon for CNN to show footage of a bombing or a natural disaster in some far-flung corner of the globe and, in the background, there stands a random Arsenal fan. The commonality and community that soccer creates is the most far-reaching form of self-ascriptive civil society. I have been all over the world with my family. My brother and I support rival Manchester teams; he supports City, I support United. My brother often teases me: “I can make friends with anyone from any country over the common hatred for Manchester United.” And he has been right time and time again, much to my chagrin.

The US national team played a tense game against Iran a number of years back, with referees diplomatically recruited from Switzerland. The politics which lay behind the game were phenomenal – nuclear proliferation, anti-American rhetoric, bourgeoning student movement in Iran – and yet the players comported themselves with good sportsmanship. Taking an example from open war, on Christmas Eve, 1914 during World War I, British and German soldiers played a game of soccer in “no man’s land” and sang ‘Silent Night’ together. The Palestinian national team has been a source of controversy, since Palestine is still in the midst of being recognized as a nation. However, the Palestinina nation soccer team has also been a source of unification within their troubled region. The Palestinian territories are divided geographically as well as politically, but during their first game against Jordan all Palestinians were cheering on a single Palestinian team.

For two halves of forty-five minutes, the play is almost continuous throughout. But for throw-ins, when the ball goes out of bounds, and when a player gets injured, there is non-stop play. Whenever the ball is dead during a particular half of the game, the time is added on to the end of the half. This time seldom goes above four minutes! The same is certainly not true for either American football or baseball. To conclude, soccer’s continuous play, widespread acceptance, and bonding ability are among the many reasons why this game truly is beautiful to watch.

The final ‘Confessions of 1L’ has given me pause. I can scarcely believe this crazy 1L is just about over. When I announced my intentions to attend law school every person I knew offered a cornel of advice. I ignored some of it, however, I am still struck by the most useful piece of advice I was given. My brother, fountain of all law school wisdom, had warned me that law school would be a little like going back to high school. Of course I rolled my eyes and assured him that I could handle it. Well, it was not so much about handling it but rather trying not to chuckle as his words came true.
It seems to me that every high school cliché has been embodied in my law school experience from the bulletin boards decorated to attract club members to cliques that quickly formed first week. Of course we have the popular kids with their female offshoot of the traveling pack of blonds. They spend more time gossiping and pretending every little thing in their lives matters to everybody around them. There are the quiet ones in the back of the room who refuse to answer questions unless forced. There are the “bros” who are still striving to be too cool for school and still caring about drinking games on the weekend.
There are the Facebook people. They are potentially my favorites at the law school. They are the ones who spend more reading and checking their Facebook page in class than actually taking notes. In fact, they spend so much time on the Facebook that you know more about them then you do about members of your own family. It’s not a habit I wanted before I went to law school. But sometime the computer screen in front of me is more interesting and I cannot help it.
There are so many to list and only a few lines left in this column. So, yes as this school year winds down I am still thinking about all the funny quirks of our class. I can honestly say that the vast majority in our class have been an absolute pleasure to know. And I cannot have imagined my year without the people I have met at Valparaiso. Mostly, I am grateful for the experience of meeting everyone whether or not it has been a major flashback to my far go high school days. So, this is big thank you to each one of you that made a fantastic year and those who read this column. I look forward to next year with everyone.

After nearly 10 weeks of property class, I am finally ready to enact my plan. I think it might be the cleverest plan a law student has ever conceived in an early morning property class. I can remember when the seeds of this scheme were planted. There I sat listening to the professor talk about adverse possession. Needles to say, my eyes lit up and I could barely contain myself in the seat as I realized my dreams of owning property for free were possible. The idea wormed its way into my brain, as I lay awake at night feverously scheming how I could make adverse possession a reality. Over the next couple of weeks, I built up my courage to put plain into action until it boiled over and I walked into the sporting goods store last weekend.

I was attempting to find the perfect temporary home on my soon to be slice of Indiana. I walked up and down the aisles, passed the soccer balls and baseball bats until I hit the tents. I stare long and hard at them wondering if it was really that simple. Then I spotted her, the Quest Eagles Peak. It is a lovely green and grey number with no seams on the floor to prevent water leaking. Domed, just like a modern tent should be, I fell long and hard in love with my canvas beauty. While it is only 8×7, there is plenty of room for my mini bar and to entertain a whooping two other people. At $39.99, I think my new little home will be a sight to see.

I walked out of Dick’s in a daze. Sure in the dark of the night, I dreamed about adverse possession but to actually buy a tent was something crazy. But then, like a shining beacon beckoning me on I saw the Menard’s down the road. It was the sign I needed and with the new resolve, I drove my car over to get the finishing touches on this feverous plot. A tent was nice but a mailbox would make the whole thing truly open and notorious. One black galvanized steel mailbox, wooden post, a back of quick concrete, and a rose bush later I had the makings of true plan to adversely possession my dream plot of land.

At this point, you may be wonder where I plan to enact this genius plan. I can tell you that it is closer than you think. I have my eye on a lovely piece of property that has everything including close access to the law school and free Wi-Fi. So, this column will be my formal announcement that I am adversely possessing the land around the trees in front of the law school. Come visit!

I have committed the sin of procrastination. And by committed, I mean I am a habitual offender. I walk into the back of the library with the very best of intentions and my books clearly laid out and I just cannot work my way up to actually reading them. Rather I sit wiki-surfing or reading Twitter on my phone over my books for hours. I started the school year so productive and have spiraled down from there. People will ask me what I am doing and I lie with a big smile on my face that I am going to get work done.
The truth of the matter is that I am rather burned out. After the nightmare of my appellate brief and the spring break that was in no way restful (and let me tell you getting my wisdom teeth yanked out during break was not a good idea), I am running out of motivation to continue. Sure, I am waiting on finals panic to set in but right now I need a goal. I tried a pizza goal last week and that seemed to work. However, this week I need something more. I don’t know what that something more is exactly. Sure, I am looking forward to the summer and my internship. But that is a little while off and that will not get me through thirty pages of property any faster.
This week I think I will try something a little different in terms of goals. Last week was the pizza goal so this week has to be non-food related. I guess I could reward myself with a Friday afternoon free from work or small trip. Neither one of those are really striking my fancy right now. I guess I could go to the movies. Sadly, the goal this week might just be an extra hour of sleep before I wake up on Saturday. So, my search for a new goal goes on and I am more than willing to take suggestions.
And yes, the ultimate irony of this column is that I have procrastinated writing it and used it as an excuse to procrastinate with my schoolwork. And with that realization, I must return to my Torts readings, as I do not want to be called on in that class unprepared. Fear is a good motivator as any I guess.

The grip of law school second semester malaise has hit full force. Symptoms include the sluggish ability to read property, falling asleep over torts, and headaches induced by constitutional law opinions that last 30 pages. The cure is possibly spring break or sleeping for 24 hours, probably both. I knew when the malaise hit. It was a beautiful weekend, where I spent more time in the library slugging through cases on extraterritoriality than doing anything else. As I sat in that back corner, I could feel the will to work being sucked out of me.
Feeding this second semester funk is a whole slate of classes that are even more complicated than last. Reading property feels like I am learning French all over again. No matter how hard I try, I feel terminally confused by a condition subsequent and a condition precedent. Mostly, I am left with the feeling that I should never own property or even advise on property problems. Seriously, who would want a lawyer who can’t tell a fee simple from a fee tail?
The fog of my second semester sickness has clouded my thinking. I try to fight the urge to slack. I try to fight that niggling in the back of my brain that I have this law school figured out. And that thought is probably my worst enemy right now. I know my knack for bad short cuts and procrastination will be my undoing. I need to keep briefing, to keep reading. I am not even terrified of getting called on in Torts any more. I have lost my fear of failure and that is a bad thing.
I really do not have this whole law school thing figured out. Torts teaches me that every Tuesday and Thursday. Who knew it would be important whether or not the host served beer at a party. Or whether a girl bitten by a dog was supervised. But I guess that is just law school for you. It is the smallest detail that changes everything. The moment you get the littlest grip on what you should be doing to find that small idea, bam, it finds a new way to punch you in the face.
Right now, I am just trying to ward off this second semester funk long enough to bang out my appellate brief and get to spring break. Hopefully, I can come out of spring break cured of this illness. I need to start in March fresh for the final sprint toward finals.

Law school nightmares plague me all winter break. The third time I woke up gasping for breath, with a racing heart, was about three days after Christmas. I had done well up until that point. I refrained from checking DataVU everyday. I had focused on my feverous Christmas shopping and my beloved Steelers enough for the first part of break to be relaxing. But something snapped after Christmas and my shell-shocked psyche decided tormented me late at night. I think the worst of the nightmares was the one where I was sitting in Tabor trying frantically to work through my contracts exam. Suddenly, the paper surged off the table and started sucking out my soul.
Ok, maybe I exaggerated the last nightmare. But still, I was haunted by the absolute certainty that I had failed my contracts exam. It loomed over every conversation I had with friends and family. It was impossible to explain my gut feeling that there was no way on in heaven or hell I actually passed contracts. They would laugh and try to placate me with meaningless platitudes as I insisted it went completely wrong. Nothing could convince me I was just fine. I nervously waited for what I was sure was going to be my doom. Naturally, I ate some serious crow, when to my surprise I did pass.
Grades seemed to have an interesting effect on everyone I noticed. When January 10 came along, I could just feel the nervous energy during the day as we all waited for our fate. That energy bled into a strange confusion as we bewilderedly tried to figure out exactly where we fit in this new order and what was the number of the bus that hit us. I have developed a nasty habit of looking around my fellow 1Ls and wondering if they were ahead of me in the rankings.
So, now that I have been through an entire semester of law school I am no longer afraid. I know when to start outlining (about week 3), when to start studying for finals (right after spring break), and how to brief a case (in the book… I mean on paper). Now, I have brand new worries to think about this semester. I spend most of my week holding my breath during Torts class hoping that I do not get called on. I still don’t completely understand this phobia. I am more than willing to answer questions during class any other time. I think the problem is the whole issue of standing up. I am ok with volunteering information on my own, but single me out and I shake like a puppy about to be swatted on the nose with a newspaper. I am sure I will be relieved once I get called on. However, I am absolutely convinced the anticipation is going to be the death of me.

They called us ‘lucky.’  Staring right into your eyes with a half-cocked grin, the 2L’s would repeat that phrase often in the days leading up to Professor Carter’s test.  There was always this maniacal twinkle in their eyes as they mouthed platitudes. But no reassurance could ever prepare us for the sheer terror that sank into my guts as I walked into Benson and realized I might have just blanked on the definition of “desuetude.”

Needless to say, that was not the absolute worst moment.  My worst moment didn’t come with a hard question or being flummoxed, for want of a better word.  Rather, the single worst moment came at exactly 2:00 p.m.  I was on question #25 and had nearly 18 questions left, including the longest question of the test.  I had 40 minutes left and I just about died.  What happened next was a feat of writing prowess that I will probably never achieve again.  I take little pride in pulling myself together and actually finishing with time to spare.  But in that one terrifying moment, I was sick to my stomach and convinced my law school dreams were ticking away like the second hand on the clock.

Walking out two hours later, I felt that my brain was a sponge that had been rung dry.  I could barely string two words together and I had an over welheming urge to punch the first person who asked how it went.  I walked straight out of the law school, past the grinning 2L’s, and back home.  There in my own quiet world, I laid down on my couch and watched enough cartoons the rest of the afternoon to feel like a normal human being again.

I am told I will be grateful in December when exams come around, and maybe my opinion will change.  I hope those long hours spent in the back of the library with my cold fingers flipping flashcards frantically as I try to memorize causation elements will pay off.   But even now, I do not feel calmer about the coming finals. I still do not know what will be on the Civ. Pro. exam or even what a law school multiple-choice exam looks like.  So, even though I am labeled ‘lucky’ by the 2L’s, I am still feeling like a nervous puppy waiting for the newspaper to swat my nose.

But enough about exams and the feverous finals fright I am feeling.  My non-law school thought now is focused on how much I am looking forward to Thanksgiving.  Mainly, I am excited to have somebody else cook for me. I think the old adage is that true cooking for one is a drag.  I have now grown sick of both chicken and pasta.  But as they are both quick and easy, I continue to eat variations of the both. I just hope it isn’t possible to get sick of peanut butter and jelly because then I’ll be really in lots of trouble.