drenched
Yesterday I was hanging out in my cave hidden in the underbelly of the law school, and I heard a 1L introduce himself to another 1L. The first thing the second 1L said back to him (after her name) was, "You know, I'm not so sure about this law school thing. I really don't know if it's worth it."
I really can't remember how this conversation ended because I was restraining myself from yelling, "Run away, Simba! Run! Run away, and never return!" After successfully preventing an outburst that would have probably cost the law school several students' tuition, I returned to my reading of various lawyers' unethical actions and unfortunate spirals into depression. And then sat and wondered why we even do this law thing to ourselves in the first place.
But no matter. Here I am, and as much as I like to lament that fact, I'm here to stay. But honestly, I didn't realize how hard this positivity thing would be. It's only the third day of law school, and already I am banging my head against whatever solid surface happens to be closest (and in reality, I don't really bang my head against anything because I know such collisions will hurt and are immensely counterproductive to preserving whatever brain cells have already jumped ship).
It also doesn't help that I'm taking Contract Drafting—the single driest subject known to man aside from the study of wind patterns in the Sahara Desert. I actually have assignments in this class beyond reading. You know, as in homework that the professor grades and gives feedback on. It's a welcome change to the normal process of read, attend class (repeat fifty times), cram, take final. But it still gives me heart palpitations because contracts are a mystery to me. I'd rather write villanelles.
In an effort to boost my own spirits, here's an accurate rendition of what the beginning of the end to law school feels like (or any time of law school, for that matter):
I really can't remember how this conversation ended because I was restraining myself from yelling, "Run away, Simba! Run! Run away, and never return!" After successfully preventing an outburst that would have probably cost the law school several students' tuition, I returned to my reading of various lawyers' unethical actions and unfortunate spirals into depression. And then sat and wondered why we even do this law thing to ourselves in the first place.
But no matter. Here I am, and as much as I like to lament that fact, I'm here to stay. But honestly, I didn't realize how hard this positivity thing would be. It's only the third day of law school, and already I am banging my head against whatever solid surface happens to be closest (and in reality, I don't really bang my head against anything because I know such collisions will hurt and are immensely counterproductive to preserving whatever brain cells have already jumped ship).
It also doesn't help that I'm taking Contract Drafting—the single driest subject known to man aside from the study of wind patterns in the Sahara Desert. I actually have assignments in this class beyond reading. You know, as in homework that the professor grades and gives feedback on. It's a welcome change to the normal process of read, attend class (repeat fifty times), cram, take final. But it still gives me heart palpitations because contracts are a mystery to me. I'd rather write villanelles.
In an effort to boost my own spirits, here's an accurate rendition of what the beginning of the end to law school feels like (or any time of law school, for that matter):
If Kermit can survive with minor foot twitching, so can I. Here's to the start of another crazy year!
You are amazing!!! Just think, after this you are all done. ALL DONE! Make a chain to count down the days, that's my favoritest thing!
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