Wii changed the rules of gaming and exercise

As a person who avoids anything that feels like “working out” at almost all costs, I was amazed and surprised to wake up Sunday morning with muscles so sore that I was making little grunting noises with every move. There are areas deep within my torso that I didn’t even know participated in movements associated with exercise. I had not even broken in my newly acquired gym membership; but I had engaged in at least four competitive sports — in front of the TV. I had finally experienced the true power of Wii.

My husband spent nearly a month calling local stores to find a Wii in stock. One weekend morning he came flying in the den while pulling a T-shirt over his head exclaiming, “I’ve gotta go right now! Best Buy only has two in and I’m the first one they called!” Within seconds he was out the door. I didn’t think much of it; he always pines after the newest technology and electronics gadgets. He was giddy upon receiving a Garmin GPS system for Father’s Day. He took off without even putting shoes on just so he could drive around with computerized navigation assistance (maps are so passé). I figured I would find the new gaming system about as much fun as I did the Xbox. Interesting at first, but too challenging for an uncoordinated non-techie like me. Shoot-’em-up games actually make me nervous — I’m too clumsy and shaky for fear of getting shot by the bad guys to remember the button/trigger/toggle combinations to crouch/fire/sidestep all at once.

Sure, I marvel at the graphics and the advancement of these video games. It is my generation that set this fascination in motion. I had an Atari that I loved, but excelled at strategic games like Qbert over those that employed hand-eye coordination like Pac-Man. Sad, but true. This continued to be the case when I graduated to the first Nintendo system. I saved the princess once. I was better at Tetris, unless the pieces stacked too close to the top and the music started speeding up, in which case I was transformed into the bumbling, trembling basketcase who couldn’t hit the right buttons. My very best skill is to cheer on those with the gift of joystick manipulation, reminding them which course yields each surprise and what the level’s objective is. I also discourage cheating, forcing my husband to master the game before looking up code up, right, down, down, left, up, right to discover the hidden wonders in the Tony Hawk game.

But, alas, to be blunt, I suck at video games, even more so with every new console and updated format. As the controllers themselves become more sophisticated (read: impossibly complicated), I become all thumbs, or more precisely in terms of A and B buttons, all pinky fingers. I can’t win to save my life, literally — I die within seconds of starting a James Bond mission. I’m not a sore loser, but no one has fun when their side of a split screen is darkened two minutes into an hour-long game, and their opponent plays on and on and on…

Then came Wii. Days after it arrived in our home, I reluctantly tried my first game. My husband invited me to spar with him in the boxing game. I remember the total crap that was Nintendo’s Rocky game over a decade ago, and expected the same thing, only with a more recognizable and lifelike Stallone. Instead, he hands me two “nunchuck” controllers, connected via a USB-type cord and cautions me to tighten the wrist strap (more on that later). I learn that I will be physically shadowboxing while my little Mii (your computer-generated self, which can be designed to eerily resemble you) bobs and weaves on-screen.

I’m definitely intrigued.  I think I might have a chance to play well — all I have to do is hold the controller and act out my character’s moves.  Plus, I once took a box aerobics class (okay, I went twice).  Halfway through the match I have managed some very decent punches and jabs, and my husband mutters something about not taking it easy on me anymore.  In that last round, I deliver a KO and his Mii goes down.  Victory at last!  Then I stagger upstairs to get some water, drawing labored breaths.  I have a stitch in my side from the exertion, having ignored the pain during the “match” and keeping pace.  My husband can’t believe how winded I am.  Why wouldn’t I be?  I smoke nearly a pack a day and couldn’t run around the block unless something fierce and dangerous was chasing me.  But it was fun.  I like Wii!

For the next couple of weeks I studied for the bar non-stop, slightly jealous at the sounds of others playing Wii in the basement. I hear that my four-year-old daughter has quite a knack for bowling.  My mother-in-law got a kick out of playing while she visited.  I read a few web pages about people using the Wii as part of their weight loss programs.  I was excited about getting down there and trying again.  My chance came this past weekend.  My husband gave me a tour of several different games.  I did well at bowling, which came as a surprise since I “granny-bowl” in real life (I can’t master letting go of a heavy ball while my fingers are in it).  I couldn’t figure out the timing in baseball, ironic as softball was the only sport I actually played growing up.  It’s confusing to swing when the ball gets to your Mii, not through the TV screen and in front of your physical self.  I kept waiting on the ball to get in front of me!  Tennis was by far the hardest, mainly because my little Mii ran up to the net while I was frantically trying to back up.  My reflexes just weren’t quick enough for the volley.  I thought something I was doing was making the character charge the net, so I started moving erratically, attempting to back the Mii up while returning serves.  It was not a pretty sight.  My husband was laughing hysterically.

We had a great time playing all the games, and even played a few that were not as physically challenging.  As usual, I found that I do not do well with the war games; my role as a battle tank was a disaster.  Fortunately, there were still plenty of fun games for someone with my grace and athletic ability.  There are some blunders that could ruin the game: I was reminded repeatedly of the importance of the wrist strap.  Apparently there have been many, many people who have accidentally launched their controllers through their plasma screen TVs.  I can definitely see how that could happen.  And even though the graphics have nothing on Xbox and PS2, the cartoonish characters and simple backgrounds are just fine for Wii — it’s the action that makes it so engaging.  Best of all, the muscle soreness I felt Sunday, almost worse today, lets me know I actually did something.  No, I still haven’t made it to the gym.  Gyms are intimidating.  But I definitely exercised, in the privacy of my own home, while giving each sport everything I had.

Most importantly, I had a blast.  I know couch-potato video games aren’t exactly going the way of the dodo now that the Wii has arrived, but I certainly won’t be playing them.  I have a new mission: to get my Wii fitness age down from an embarrassing 64 to a fit and trim 18.  It’s the only way I’ll get to be 18 again!  And I have a sneaking suspicion that it won’t be just my Mii that improves; my “Me” should starting looking and feeling better, too.

Would it be so bad to be stranded in Mexico?

Sadly, I just finished filling out my first passport application. The sad part about it is that I’m knocking on 30 and have never needed one before. Sure, I’ve been to most of the places where passports were not required for U.S. citizens: Canada and The Bahamas. And strangely, I’m only going to Mexico, which, until recently, was another neighboring country that did not require a passport from Americans. Alas, I am not very well-traveled. Maybe I’ll jet around the world in my retirement years.

I guess another sad part about it is that I just completed the form (have not filed it yet) and my trip is now only six days away. I’ve been a little preoccupied with only the single most important test in my life, so needless to say, I didn’t get around to much other paperwork.

In light of all of the passport-issuance problems in the recent news, this could be a problem. Apparently, lawmakers and paper-pushers did not act in concert when rolling out the date that the new passport law was to go into effect. As a result, passport applications are backlogged for months. A reasonable and prudent person may worry about the predicament, but I will not.

First, I heard that the effective date requiring passports for the type of travel I am doing is later this year, or next year now (I’m going on a cruise to Mexico). Second, the backlash from the public over the turn-times from application to actually receiving the passport has caused the government to rethink strict compliance at this time, and many sources claim that just having your receipt of application will be sufficient for some types of travel (it probably won’t get you to Iraq, though, but that’s A-OK with me). Last, the biggest problem with being passport-less on a trip like mine is reentry to the U.S. For instance, if I were to miss the boat off Cancun, I would have a helluva time getting through customs if I hopped a flight.

Yeah, I should probably worry a little. A passport problem could put a kink in my vacation. But I refuse. The biggest vacation I need right now is one from worry. And it couldn’t be all that bad to extend my vacation in Cancun, could it?

Belly up at the bar

It’s over.  Unfortunately, it may rear its ugly head again.  Given the title, it may sound as if I’m lamenting particularly terrible hangover symptoms.  I wish.  No, I did not belly up to a bar, I went belly up at the bar.

Yesterday marked the end of the three-day misery that is my jurisdiction’s state bar.  The mother of all licensing tests (for a would-be lawyer at least, I cannot speak for doctors or CPAs), the bar proved more than a formidable opponent.  I think I may have unwittingly rolled over and died, subjecting myself to another go-around in February.  Still, all I can think about now is thank God it’s over.

It began Sunday afternoon when I checked into the hotel.  After fighting past a line of fellow bar applicants that blocked the hotel’s entry and extended outside, I managed to reach my room despite my heavy burden: two pounds of clothes, about five pounds of snack foods and caffeinated beverages, and sixty-plus pounds of study materials.  I spent the first thirty minutes arranging the contents of my luggage and the room to my satisfaction, then settled into what would become my “zone of cramming,” a circular area over a sofa and coffee table, the center of which defined by an indentation of my butt.

I proceeded to study until the wee hours of the morning, only to attempt sleep during a highly-caffeinated and anxiety-riddled stupor, with the knowledge that I had set two alarm clocks to go off in three hours’ time.  Needless to say, whatever sleep I did manage was punctuated with nightmares about breaking my right arm, so that I would be required to write 12 essays in six hours left-handed.

The first day of exams went off without any procedural hitches, namely any of the oft-circulated horror stories about construction or band practice outside of the exam facility, or other test-takers engaging in disruptive behavior (although we did have one fainter and the person next to me had a flatulence problem, but I trudged through).  However, the lack of external hindrances did not remedy my utter lack of knowledge on the subjects.  I pray to have earned a point or two for some creative law-making of my own.

That night was no better than the first.  Four more pots of coffee, hours of cramming and a few minutes of nightmare-addled sleep later, I attempted Day Two of the bar.  Six hours of frantic writing turned my hand into “The Claw,” and I again retired to my temporary two-room home.  This time, I forewent the last-minute studying for a few alcoholic beverages and experienced my first real slumber, six hours of slightly buzzed, dreamless snoozing.

I guess I had not totally caught up on my sleep, as the real horror ensued during the second half of the Final Day.  While reading a particularly long property law fact pattern I succombed to a sudden bought of narcolepsy, awakening when my head bobbed toward the table.  This new and terrifying symptom continued for the next hour, me versus somnolence, as I attempted to hang in there through the test’s completion.  I managed to answer all of the questions with a mere 20 minutes to spare (I had to quickly fill in seven “C” circles with 18 seconds left in the morning exam), but have no idea whether I even knew what I was reading.  Still, it was over.

I made a beeline to the parking lot with nearly 600 others, like rats escaping a flooding building.  No one really spoke, but a few people erupted into tears (of joy that it was over?  fear that they had failed?  insanity?) and one or two people were presented with bouquets of flowers from significant others.  I just fled.  Praying my bladder would hold out for the one and-a-half-hour drive home, I got into the 100-degree interior of my car for the first time in more than three days, and headed for the highway.  When I arrived at my house, I hugged my family, climbed into my own bed and slept for 12 straight hours.  Peace at last.

It’s around here somewhere

My brain seems to have taken constructive leave from my head.  Where is memory and logic stored again?  The cortex?  The cerebellum?  What about anxiety and doubt?  Is that in the frontal lobe? The cerebrum?  Well, look at that.  I can recall four parts of the brain from 5th grade biology, knowledge I don’t think I have really ever needed to know again, but I cannot remember for the life of me the seven (?) causes of action for a divorce that I studied just one year ago and may appear on a bar essay Tuesday.

 PMBR sent some last-minute tips to examinees via e-mail, so I thought I’d share:

 The last few days before the exam can be stressful. To help alleviate some of the pressure and help you remember the small things, here are Kaplan PMBR’s top 10 exam tips:
 
10.  A correct statement of law is usually a better answer choice than a correct statement of fact.

9.  An “if” answer choice that presents a true contingency is a better answer choice than a “because” choice that presents a true conclusion.

8. Even though there are 24 hearsay exceptions, the “inadmissible as hearsay not within any recognized exception” answer is most often correct.

7. If you are a slow starter, do a few problems in the morning to get yourself going—just like a marathon runner stretching before the big race.

6. Make your Game Day preparations: Get a good night’s sleep. Eat a healthy breakfast. Bring extra pencils. Dress in layers. Set an extra alarm clock. Bring your lunch. And don’t forget to plan your route to the exam location!

5. Read the “Caveats” section in the back of the Volume II blue book.  It has great last minute test-taking pointers.

4. To complete the exam on time, your goal should be to complete 36 questions per hour; mark your exam accordingly to keep yourself on track. If you find yourself in a time crunch, skim the answer choices to the long property questions, pick a hornbook-sounding answer, and keep going!

3.  Don’t second-guess yourself—it will undermine your confidence. Stick with your first answer choice and keep going!

2.  Identify the cause of action in the question to create a funnel to the correct answer choice—the right answer will relate to the cause of action.

And our #1 exam tip?

Study where the points are! The list below details the most heavily tested areas and represents almost 100 points! Be sure to review these areas during the remaining days prior to the exam. 

Equal Protection/Due Process            9
First Amendment                                 9
Hearsay                                                 12
Character/Impeachment                    10
Homicide                                                9
Strict Liability                                       7
Negligence                                            16
Mortgages                                             8
Contract Formation                             16

Good luck on the exam!

Sincerely,
Kaplan PMBR

Here it is, a quarter after five in the morning, and I am down to the final stretches.  My coffee is ready, a reliable daily dose of caffeine.  Like a world-class sprinter, I need to cover a relatively long distance in a very short time.  On to study state civil litigation.  Now, where did I leave the book?

There should be a law against this

The past week has been a total blur.  My sleeping patterns are irregular, at best.  At worst, I awake disoriented, trying to ascertain the answer to the fact pattern I just dreamt about.  My four-year-old daughter asked me what I was going to dream about as she was getting ready for bed a few nights ago and I told her, “a holder in due course.”  Without batting an eye she told me that I should dream about her riding a pink pony.  I liked her idea better, but knew the only pink ponies in my dreams would be chattel converted by a neighboring tortfeasor.  I’m reminded of that movie with Billy Bob Thornton in which his hypochondriac character awakens during the night with a snort and shouts, “Beavers and ducks!”  I thought that was the funniest scene in the movie, and wonder if I have lurched forward from slumber with a similar explanation lately, say, “Commerce and welfare!”  Hmm, not as funny.

I took a 100-question practice MBE today from the National Conference of Bar Examiners site.  153, passing.  So, in the three days remaining, all I have to do is study for the state portion, which will be six essays in 30 minutes, and the MEE, also six essays in 30 minutes (but potentially covering Agency & Partnership, Corporations, Federal Civil Procedure, Conflict of Laws, UCC — Sales, Secured Transactions and Commercial Paper — Future Interests, Decedents’ Estates (Wills), Family Law and finally, Trusts).  Oh, and we also take two MPTs.  I know, I know, it is all my fault that I didn’t start studying until three weeks ago.  I just couldn’t force myself to look at anything else after three years of law school (while working full-time and juggling two kids, one of which I had during Spring Semester ‘06). 

In conclusion (might as well treat this like essay-writing practice), I think there should be an alternative to the two- or three-day bar exam.  Something less than a do-or-die marathon of vast legal memorization.  I liken bar exam preparation to a contract.  The parties: the big, bad, powerful examination committee versus the weary, anxious examinee.  The terms: The examinee must pay hundreds of dollars for the license (revocable by the grantor at will) to sit for the bar exam, which is designed to pass only more than 50% of examinees (the benchmark for difficulty), to be able to pursue his or her chosen profession, the practice of law (interference with right to work?).  There is a condition precedent for most examinees (the benefiting party may waive the condition, of course) that they must spend possibly thousands of dollars in bar review courses, offered by a handful of companies.  Those companies (affiliated businesses, perhaps?) entice more spending by employing fear tactics and using advertising catchphrases like “Guaranteed!”  Should an examinee attempt to practice this profession without having entered into the above contract, he or she will be charged with a felony and prosecuted to the full extent of the law. 

Let’s see, the definition of an unconscionable contract is: “A contract which no man in his senses, not under delusion, would make, on the one hand, and which no fair and honest man would accept, on the other.” 

There should be a law against this.  Of course, if there was, I would have to learn the elements, determine if it passed the rational-relation test, list the available defenses and damages…