Every couple nights or so, you know you pop into my dreams

The bar exam is about a month away, and I can tell the tension is mounting because my brain is no longer respecting the natural bounds between study time and non-study time (i.e. sleep). I've had this happen to me before, usually towards the end of the second week of final exams. It's obnoxious. In the early hours of the morning, my brain will start having some variation of the following schizophrenic conversation with itself. Very loudly. "Hey...are you awake?" "It's 5am, what do you think?" "It's just that I've been having trouble remembering what the seventh way to terminate an easement is. Do you know?" "Are you serious? It's early! Go back to sleep! We have to go to bar review in a couple of hours and it's hard enough to stay awake in that class as it is." "I know, but it's really bothering me. I know there's estoppel, necessity ending, destruction of the servient parcel, condemnation, release, abandonment, merger, and...? " "You really want to talk about Property at 5 in the morning?" "Well, we could talk about Contracts if you want." "That's just it, I don't want to talk about anything even remotely related to the law. Not now, and to be honest, not ever. Go back to sleep!" "I can't. Not until I figure out the last way to extinguish an easement!" "Prescription, you idiot. The answer is prescription. Now can we go back to sleep? Please??" "Oh yeah, I knew that. Thanks for reminding me. But I also had a question about the admissibility of character evidence." At this point, the conversation has actually made sleep impossible, and I'm left with no choice but to lie awake in bed, dreading the start of another day and the dumping of more information into my already beleaguered brain. One more month, right? Just one more month.

Comic relief

During the break time in bar review, the conversation turned to the topic of babies. More specifically, fellow law students who had decided to procreate during law school, and their experiences. Luckily for all of us non-parents out there who can't possibly appreciate all the intricate nuances of transmitting humanity, the makers of this gem of a website have broken down the do's and don'ts of newborn care. http://www.newbornbabyzone.com/baby-care/the-dos-and-donts-newborn-baby-care-pics/ Go. Look. Laugh.

Respect the rule of the headphones

Sometimes polite conversation is just awkward. Sometimes people really are purposely trying to avoid interacting. But no matter how obvious the signals they are projecting, it would appear that the urge to engage with another human being is just too powerful to resist, and you breach one of the self-executing rules of the highest order: When you encounter a person wearing headphones, the chances are good that they don't want to talk, so you should just move on. Or maybe this is just a self-executing rule in my world. If that is the case, I would really appreciate it if people would stop wandering into that world without first committing to obey the rules. I graduated from law school last week, go me. But just as that comment seems random and out of place, so does the fact that even though I am officially a law grad, each and every day I come back to this life force incinerator to attend perfectly mind numbing lectures and practice exams in preparation for the bar. After class is over, I make my way down to the student lounge, where there are couches next to a series of large windows where a person can at least feel the warmth from the sun, even though going out into it is not an option. I proceed to sit on said couches for about 4 hours while I do homework for the following day, and basically grapple with the fact that during the course of the last three years, I have managed to purge everything I've been taught. Wonderful. As I sit and study, people stream out of the building, mainly because it's summer, and who wants to spend their summer imprisoned in the law school? I don't have much of a choice because studying at home is not an option for me. Thank you, super loud unemployed neighbors. So I sit, and I study in the ever-increasingly empty building. Unfortunately for me, my favored study spot just happens to be by one of the entrances to the law school, so as people vacate, some are unable to resist the urge to comment on my inherent loser-ness. Or perhaps they want to offer me little affirmations in hopes of...what? Encouraging me to persevere? Former professors smile and tell me I'll pass the bar for sure if I keep studying this hard. The dean tells me I shouldn't stay here so late. The office manager at student services shakes her head and reassures me that it will all be over soon. I'm not sure what it is about me that projects to these people an aura of welcoming such unsolicited intrusions. I don't look up when people leave the building. I'm dutifully reviewing outlines and taking mental notes of concepts that I'm pretty sure I knew at one point. I'm staring lifelessly at my computer screen furiously taking notes while listening to a taped lecture on some obscure point of law that I'll probably never encounter in my life outside of the bar exam. I'm wearing headphones, for crying out loud!!!! HEADPHONES!!! Why don't people respect the rule of the headphones? If you try to say something to someone wearing headphones, it is entirely likely they don't hear what you say. This then leads to the awkward fumbling and the inevitable, "I'm sorry, what?" This is then followed by a repeat of the comment that didn't really need to be made in the first place, an exchange of courtesy laughter and polite smiles, and a completely derailed train of thought. If the headphones can't deter this kind of occurrence, then what can???

Tower of Terror

About two weeks ago, I came home from campus to find an obnoxiously large box, sitting innocuously on my doorstep. Upon opening the mystery package, I was at once annoyed and horrified to find "Law School, Reloaded." However, since I was still very much in law school at the time and facing down three exams, I put the bottomless box of misery in the spare room and resolved to look at it later. Well, it has been an entire week since I pressed the submit electronically button on the last law school exam I will ever take, and I am just now summoning the courage to dive back in. I am amazed at how quickly I was able to shake off student mode. I'm fairly certain I've spent 90% of the last week lounging around in my pajamas, planning a spectacular post-bar vacation, and trying my darndest to avoid the appearance of productivity. It has been quite glorious. But the nasty little reality of the underlying elation of graduating from law school is the fact that my shiny new degree means exactly nothing until I pass the bar exam. Yes, the last looming obstacle at the gates of reentry to the land of the living. This reality compels me to refrain from allowing myself to fully acclimate to post-student life. The bar exam is in 85 days. 85 days of living in exam prep mode. Does that photo depress you as much as it depresses me? The stack of books mocks me; daring me to open them, and realize just how much I have failed to retain. Suddenly I'm thinking I should have put off unloading that box for another couple of days...

What gets lost in the shuffle of final exams

In the last four days of intense study for my next exam, I have resigned myself to the fact that my Crim Pro II final will be a bloodbath. On that note, you really shouldn't judge my wandering mind too harshly...

http://kalman.blogs.nytimes.com/2009/04/23/may-it-please-the-court/

That time for the last time

This week started out like any other. Except this week is not like all the rest. As one friend put it, "I feel as though, if my life called, I could actually say 'See you soon!'" I share the sentiment. Three more days. Just three. That breaks down to 5 class periods, 6 academic hours, 360 minutes. And strangely enough, this is all I can think about. Not the fact that I have three exams to contend with, even though, as the archives of this blog indicate, exams are usually a knock down, drag out stressfest for me. But not this time. For some reason, the only thing pervading my consciousness right now is the reality that my academic career is finally, finally, finally nearing its end. In all honesty, it doesn't quite seem real. After all, I'm sitting here in the library, at the same table where I've sat for three years. There are textbooks in front of me, demanding to be read. There are frazzled students around me chugging Red Bull and frantically scribbling notes in their outlines. It's just business as usual in these, the waning days of the semester. But I can't ignore the light. The light that began as a small pinpoint in the darkness which has grown to a blinding sun. The light at the end of this hopelessly long tunnel. I keep thinking back, way back to the days just before this undertaking, and I am overwhelmed at how audacious, how naive I was...



August 11, 2006: In the few short months since graduation, so much has changed, and again I'm going to be shaking things up when I move to Oregon to start law school. Am I ready for this? Am I ready to move to a new state where I know exactly no one, live with a complete stranger, and begin my pursuit of higher, higher education? I sure hope so, because it's a little late to turn back now. This entire experience is quite schizophrenic. I'm excited for a new adventure. I've been unbelievably complacent with just about everything this year. School wasn't too much of a challenge, life has been relatively easy, and I think it's time to test my limits again. At the same time, things are insane. With Scott, and getting engaged, and moving, and trying to figure out if it will be possible to be a 1L and plan a wedding without losing my mind, life has been pretty hectic. I make no secret of the fact that I am a stress magnet. If the situation has even the remote potential of being stressful, it will be to me. I can only hope I take to law school like I have to college. I love to learn, and I'm competitive enough to get the job done, but I'm scared because I don't know what's going to happen. You never hear anyone say how great law school is; how much fun they had. The stories sound like prisoners of war survival stories. Will I be able to thrive in such an environment? This has been my dream since I was ten, and those of you who know me know I have acute tunnel vision and I won't be happy until I've crossed it off my list. I like to be in control of every aspect of my life and normally I am, but when I feel like I'm not, I go a little nuts. I fully expect to be going a little nuts in the weeks and months to come, but on the mission I learned that if you don't ask, the answer is already no. If I don't do this, I've already failed. So bring on tomorrow with all its challenges, surprises, and adventures. I'm ready.



All I can do is laugh at that girl. She wasn't ready. She didn't want this. She had no idea. But that doesn't really matter now, because it's all over. The misery, the hopelessness, the sleep deprivation, the frustration, the hardened cynicism. And only elation of impossible accomplishment remains.

Shoulda been a slacker

I'm supposed to be editing a paper. But as I stare at my own words on paper and compare them to the comments my professor has written, I can't help but think, "I really shouldn't have put so much work into my first draft." Last year I wrote a paper on juvenile life imprisonment in the context of the Roper v. Simmons holding and made the argument that a prohibition on such life sentences should be a logical outgrowth of the Supreme Court's recent decisions. When I wrote that paper, I put a crazy amount of work into it, handed in my first draft, and the professor said it was so good I didn't need to make any changes to it. At the time, I thought that was odd, but I didn't complain. Who needs more work to rain down on them right at the end of the semester? I'm not entirely sure why I expected lightning to strike twice. This year my paper is on the dual sovereignty exception to the prohibition on successive prosecutions, and again, I put a crazy amount of work into my first draft. Therein lies my mistake. As I sit here trying to figure out how to improve on what I've already written, I find myself utterly unwilling to expend the necessary effort. My ideas have already taken shape and I don't want to change them, and I sure as heck don't want to add to them!! Not to mention my annoyance at having to renumber my foot notes. But that's the problem with turning in a reasonably well developed paper as a "rough draft." When you turn it into a professor who actually bothers to read and think about what you've said, he is inevitably going to come up with things you can change. If I had been a smart person, I would have turned in a craptastic rough draft, so that any changes I made to it would seem drastic and well-reasoned by comparison. Why didn't I do that? I think the only answer is one best said in a monotone drone and accompanied by a blank stare. "Post spring break 3L." So, who wants to edit this thing for me?