Would it violate the professional rules of conduct to punch opposing counsel in the face?

That's what I so wanted to do in court this morning. Punch opposing asshole lawyer in his stupid asshole face.

I had to sit there in court and listen to asshole drone on for more than an hour in his argument in response to my motion to dismiss, during which he personally attacked my integrity about 20 times or so. Called me out by name as having misrepresented facts to a tribunal, having twisted the facts to suit my own purposes, having practiced deception, all to get a favorable ruling; and then expressed thanks that the tribunal saw through my attempted deceit, thanks that the tribunal didn't buy the totally twisted misrepresentations of fact that I was trying to sell it. All that from an asshole law firm that I already, in this very same case, had to take issue with themselves for having misrepresented my own words to counsel - - in an affidavit that one of their lawyers drafted, signed, and filed, claiming I had made statements to him that I had not made, putting words in my mouth that I never uttered and that were contradictory to what it was I actually had said to him.

So having once suffered asshole lawyer's untruthfulness in attributing comments to me in affidavit form that I never made, I then had to sit through a motion hearing and listen to asshole accuse me of being the deceptive one, of purposefully misrepresenting the legal issues and claims and twisting the facts.

And while lawyering, litigating in particular, often does involve making arguments in which the lawyers take the facts that are given and try to make those facts fit the legal argument they want to make, trying to put a spin on the facts that is, to suit the purposes of your legal argument, this really went way too far; because he was accusing me of misrepresenting the actual facts, on purpose, of trying to mislead a legal tribunal. And it fucking pissed me off.

I explained all this in a very professional and calm way when it was my turn to respond in court this morning, and I got my own points across and pointed out documents that showed that I had not in fact misrepresented anything, and let the court and opposing counsel know that I did not appreciate being accused of having practiced that kind of deception. But dammit, I didn't want to be calm and professional. I wanted to kick that fuckhead in the balls call him every damn name in the book for trying to make me look like such a lying little weasel in front of the court. I wanted to kick him in the teeth for being such a whiney little baby. I wanted to rip his tongue out so I wouldn't ever have to listen to his whiney little voice ever again. I still want to do all that and more.

Instead, I went out after work with my co-counsel, who were in court today and who joined me in bashing that asshole over drinks, for all the shit he pulled in court today. We bashed and laughed and drank and toasted each other for winning our case today. And that was pretty fun, but now I'm back at home, and dammit, I'm still pissed. Really fucking pissed, at that guy.

Goddamn, I hate lawyers. And Goddamn, I hate that my job involves this kind of shit at times that puts me in such a fucking bad mood, hate that I have to put up with such assholes, fucking hate hate hate it.

Take this job and shove it. And give me one I like instead.

Man, I am so sick of my job. Disillusioned. Frustrated. Annoyed. Bored. All of the above.

It's not always been the best job, but in the past I did enjoy it much more than I do now. I'm sure my change in feeling is partly due to just being in the same job for a certain amount of time; you'd have to have an insanely perfect job (emphasis on insane) not to get somewhat sick of doing the same thing year after year after year. But more than that, in truth, I believe that the circumstances of my job have changed so drastically in the past year and a half that it truly is no longer the same job that it was when I first started with it. (All in frustrating ways, obviously. Were I to begin to list them, I could write for 20 minutes nonstop at least.)

Tonight I came home and wanted so badly to forget about work, to leave it all behind; to not think about the hearing I have tomorrow morning, or the meeting I have tomorrow afternoon that I'm dreading, or the many upcoming deadlines, or the many more small questions and emails, etc., that have come in in the past weeks that have required thoughtful answers and that I've just not had time to respond to, to the disappointment of people I wish I weren't disappointing.

So tonight I took out my paints, and my brushes, and a canvas that I had not touched for months. And I painted. And I finally relaxed, and became interested again, and went to a place where I actually enjoyed what I was doing in the moment. I mean, I totally forgot about everything else for a while, and it was like all I had to do in life was just paint my little painting, which by the way is looking really good, in my opinion.

And given that difference in mood, caused by the difference in activity, I've gotta wonder ... can I just quit my job and paint for a living? Please? Pretty pretty please? With a cherry on top?

Seriously, how does one manage to find something to do to make a living and pay the bills that doesn't annoy the shit out of one but rather, hopefully, maybe, gives one pleasure? Is that possible? If so, someone please explain it to me, so I can hop on board that train. Because I'm fucking fed up. (Until I pick up a paint brush, when amazingly enough I chill out so much that I don't even say words like "fuck." Unless I'm thinking about how much I'd like to fuck that friend of my sister's who is spending Thanksgiving with us up in the mountains next month. Oh yeah.)

The Good, The Bad, And The Ugly

The Good: I had a fun weekend, went out of town for a football game, lots of good food and good drink and good company; met a friend of my sister and brother in law's, one who's going through a divorce right now, and man was he cute, and so funny and laid back and friendly; was invited by my sister to spend a long Thanksgiving weekend in the mountains with her and her brood; after I accepted the invitation, found out, holy shit, the good looking man friend is spending Thanksgiving weekend in the mountains with us. Holy Hannah, I can't wait for Thanksgiving.

The Bad: Klutz that I am, I totally fell while stepping out of a subarban Saturday night, landed wrong on my right foot, which is either sprained or perhaps has a small broken bone; either way it hurts like hell to walk on it; I'm an idiot, and in pain.

The Ugly: That would be my foot, which is swollen and sort of purplish in the spot that hurts the most. Great.

Thank God the good outweighs the bad and the ugly today ... did I mention I can't fucking wait for Thanksgiving? Cozy mountain house and hot man, here I come ...

What's that, you ask? How am I?

Yes, it's been a long long looooong time since I posted anything, but that's mostly because I felt I had nothing to post. Or maybe it's that I wasn't in the mood to post. Um, ever, for months. But, today I am, so here goes.

I just came back from an oral argument in appellate court, and I'm feeling energized. I did good, man. Yessir. Those justices tried to trip me up a few times, but I held my own and made my arguments until I saw them nod their heads in recognition of a good answer (even if not necessarily a correct answer. But it's not a test, it's an argument, and they at least got my argument.)

And best of all, better than pleasing my boss and my clients with my argument, my crush was in attendance. He wasn't arguing a case, he was just interested in the outcome of my particular case, and came to watch. And gave me a big smile right after I finished, from across the courtroom, then later made his way over to me to praise me on a good argument. And his smile is just so big and sincere, and makes him look just a tad bit goofy when it's that big and earnest, that it made my day. I know it's nowhere near what my reaction to him is, but his reaction to me always makes me feel like he just genuinely likes me, as a person, and there's not much better than that.

So good day, so far. Except, oh yeah, last night I fell in my fucking kitchen in a puddle of fucking water I didn't see from a fucking pipe that's fucking leaking, and I hurt my fucking back ... so having made it through my biggest task of the day, that oral argument I'd been preparing for the past week, I've taken the rest of the day off to chillax at home. Yes it's not even noon yet, but damn straight there's a big ol' glass of chardonnay, and a heating pad and comfy sofa, tv and paperback novel, all calling my name right now ... yes indeed, it's a good day.