Literally, two things: I just finished watching my DVRs of the Dollhouse finale and the first non-pilot episode of Caprica. On both grounds: Freakin’ (or, more appropriately, Frakkin’) Awesome.

Some quick words on Dollhouse: Dushku proved her acting chops – I take back any ill words I may have said, though to be fair she was playing to her strengths. Someone needs to find more jobs for Enver and Franz, stat. And Olivia Williams is a lovely actress. Also, Whedon remains a genius like a FOX (except he should not work at Fox).

Some quick words on Caprica: Squee! I at first thought that, while intriguing, a series dealing with the origins of the Cylons and Caprican society Before the Fall couldn’t ever work. I’m incredibly happy that I’ve been proven wrong. And the way that they’ve dealt with Zoe/ZoeBot is pretty damn brilliant.

That is all.

I had a bad day at work today.  Or perhaps I should say, bad day in court.  But I’m not here to talk about that.

It used to be that if I had a bad day I could sit at my keys and just let my consciousness subsume into the keys.  Put the rage on the page, if you would.  Nowadays, I’m bound by my duty as an attorney and my oath as an officer of the court not to say anything about it.  There’s exceptions – I could talk to my spouse and the like.  And my coworkers, for the most part.  But really, that’s not really how I get my catharsis.  I don’t want to talk about it.  I want to take it and transform it, distill it, subsume it beyond just facts into words, into something that I can hold up and call beautiful while at the same time I can hate it to the very core of my being.  I want to transform it from an experience in my head into an object that I can cast out of myself, like some exorcised demon allowed to thrash and die in the wilderness outside of me.

But I’ve taken an oath that those demons die with me.  I cannot tell you why the system doesn’t work.  Oh, I could abstract things.  I could lie.  I could make things up.  But if I did then everything I wrote would be open to the question of not just objectivity, but the prism of fiction.

But truth is often worse than fiction.  That is the purpose of fiction: to provide something for us to escape into.  But we cannot escape truth.

I’m trying to get back into the swing of writing regularly.  Clearly, I’m failing.  Let me rephrase: I’m trying to try to get back into the swing of writing things regularly.  The problem is that I’ve swung perhaps too far into the direction of “lawyer” and away from “blogger”.  Primarily because I had some… issues? with the brass when I first started doing Incorrigible Dicta.  But I’ve learned the rules now, and I think (think, mind,) that I can walk that line now without really any difficulty one way or the other.

But my life is pretty much centered around my job right now, with everything else being kind of inconsequential.  Boy, that’s kind of shallow and unfair.  I still do D&D on a fairly regular basis with some of the guys, and I’m trying to keep together a group among my colleagues though our fairly busy schedules make that difficult.

I do need to figure out this whole “friends outside of work” thing.  I don’t really know where one goes to socialize alone as an adult.  I’m too lazy for that I think.  Which, well, heck of a statement about me right?  Not that we didn’t already know.

I’m not unhappy though, I’ve just started to see those holes in my life.  It seemed like I had a good start to things early last year, but after some things fizzled out, I sorta retreated from the whole adult-socializing thing.  And then there was this thing with this girl… ah, who cares.  I certainly don’t, which is kind of the point.  I probably should more than I do.

What was my point?  I feel like I’ve strayed, if one can stray far from such things.  Perhaps I should reread my book on essay writing and rekindle the flame?  I definitely need to write more often, and get my hands used to typing words that aren’t legal.  I’m thinking of doing some research and becoming an expert on the ethics and rules of blawging as well, but that’s another matter altogether – maybe publish an article or two.