on perspective

A few days ago, while studying Federal Income Tax at a coffee shop with CR:

Me: You know, on my way here, I actually thought "Hey, if I get in a bad enough car wreck, I won't have to take the FIT final." Is that bad?

CR: I don't know. The other night I had this dream that I was being held up at gunpoint, and the guy was like "Give me your laptop or I'll kill you." And I was like, "No, you can't have it, it's got my notes and my outline on it." And he was like, "WHAT'S WRONG WITH YOU?? I HAVE A FREAKING GUN AND I WILL SHOOT YOU." And I was like, "well, see, if I give you my laptop, you'll have my notes but I'll still have to take the final, and I'll be screwed. But if you shoot me and I die, I won't have my notes, but I won't have to take the final either."

Me: Hmm, you win.

Law School = The Grinch that Stole Christmas

I'm at a coffee shop writing a paper. It's about the economic inefficiency of predatory mortgage lending. Too bad I don't know anything about economics or finance.

Anyway, they're playing Christmas music over the speakers. I actually love Christmas music, but it makes me a little sad to hear it now, because it reminds me that I'm stuck studying for finals that will inevitably kick my butt. There's nothing like law school to suck the joy out of the holiday season; Thanksgiving is spent outlining, when really it should be spent getting fat and watching football. And since for some reason law school finals always end really late (last year our last final was a 24-hour take-home final, due on Dec. 23, and this year my last paper is due Dec. 22. Yay! Hopefully I won't get the flu again this year), the run-up to Christmas, which should be spent shopping for gifts and decorating Christmas trees and drinking hot chocolate on the couch while watching Monty Python (ok, that has nothing to do with Christmas but I like Monty Python), is instead spent in a desperate, coffee-and-panic-fueled bid to fend off failure.

At least there are peppermint mochas. Those are festive.

I decided to conduct an experiment of sorts and go without internet and tv for the summer. So far I've noticed a definite uptick in productivity.

Unfortunately for aforementioned productivity, I'm home for the weekend and my parents have internet and cable, so of course I got nothing done today. No, wait, I take that back. I did three loads of laundry. I also learned that 1) Oriental Beauty is a black tea from the Hakka region of Taiwan, 2) a woolly mammoth femur is fifteen times the size of a human femur, 3) "routemaster" is another word for a London double-decker bus, and 4) Rachael Ray has the best job in the world. I need to drop out of school and become her protege.

my wacky unconscious

The night before my Con Law final, I dreamed some of the Supreme Court justices showed up at my apartment and told me I had to move.

"But my lease isn't up yet. I don't have to move until Friday."

"We're the Supreme Court. You'll move when we say to move."

And then Scalia chased me around my apartment while the other justices just stood around in their robes, amused.

In honor of finals...

...some words describing how I feel right now. (But way funnier.)

on the blindingly obvious

Yesterday in Con Law:

Prof. B: So let's say Capital Metro has a policy of not hiring people who are shorter than 5'7" because according to a study they've commissioned, people 5'7" and over are safer drivers. Your client is 5'6" and wants to challenge the policy. What would you do?

Classmate: Well, first, I'd commission more studies--

Prof. B: Well, ok...I mean, you can commission as many studies as you want, but that doesn't mean they're necessary. I read about this study once where the researchers discovered that male monkeys feel pain when their testicles are crushed. It's kind of like, "Duh! I could've told you that!"

on prescience

Scene 1. DAY. A classroom at the Law School right before class starts. STUDENTS are milling about, settling into their seats, taking out their laptops and pocket Constitutions. S walks in and goes to her desk, placing her backpack on the table.

B: Yarrrrrrrrrr!!! (Runs by and grabs backpack from S. It is a running joke that he steals something from her desk every time he passes by.)

S: That's it! I'm throwing down the gauntlet!

B: Whatever, would that gauntlet be like...this big? (Holds up hands about three inches apart.)

S: (In a British accent) I'll bite yer legs off!

(B, having gone to his desk, does not hear, but Prof. B does. He turns around and gives S a strange look.)

S's NEIGHBOR: We are totally getting called on.

Scene 2: 20 MINUTES LATER

S: (on IM) C. I really have to pee.

C: (on IM) You better get up and go now, before he looks up and calls on you.

S: (on IM) Yeah, I think I will--

Prof. B: (looks down at the seating chart on the podium, then back up.) Miss...P?

S: (inwardly) #@!(*^%!$!)$">#@!(*^%!$!)$(*@!

(Fade to black.)

NARRATOR: Let this be a lesson to you, kids. Don't quote Monty Python in class.

disgruntled

It's a little demoralizing to read this article when one is 1) a female 2) in the middle of writing a final brief 3) for a law school class. What's the point? Clearly I should be married and popping out babies by now.

Side note: Asshole Upstairs is being evicted. (I think the final straw was his refusal to let the landlord in so the landlord could figure out why there was water pouring out of my ceiling.) So long, Asshole Upstairs. I hope they slap you with thousands of dollars in attorneys' fees. And maybe additional monetary sanctions for being a Grade A douchebag.

grouchy

Smoke alarm count: 3. I just cook with my front door open now.

Next semester's schedule:
Crim Law: 8:30-9:30 Tues-Fri
Property: 10:30-11:30 Mon-Thurs
Con Law I: 3:30-4:30 Mon-Wed
Legal Research and Writing: Thurs 11:30-12:30, Fri 10:30-11:30
Elective TBD

Having class at 8:30 nearly every day? Fine. Going until 4:30? Fine. Having classes on Friday? Fine. All three together in one schedule? Idiotic.