Home for the Holidays

Exams are over and I'm finally back home for the holidays after being away all semester. So I've been spending lots of time with (some familiar looking people who claim to be) my family. It's nice. I do not remember anything about exams. In fact, I do not really remember anything about the entire semester. (Don't worry, future clients, it will come back to me!) The only thing I do remember is that legal citations require you to put all punctuation outside of the parinthesis. But in the real world, where the rest of you humanoids live, I can't remember where the damn punctuation goes. Inside or outside!? I've had this dilemma several times since school got out and I'm about to lose it. I literally sit in front of the computer and do this: (insert text here). (insert text here.) (insert text here). (insert text here.) (insert text here). (insert text here.) (insert text here). (insert text here.) (insert text here). (insert text here.) Wash. Rinse. Repeat.

I never thought I'd say it: Someone get me back to school!!!

To My Devoted Fans...All Three of You:

I now understand why everyone says law school is so difficult. Details to follow after exams. See you the 17th (if I don't get hit by a bus first...here's to hoping).

Hilarious Letter I Thought Up Last Night:

For my non-law student readers, I'm sorry to bore you. For my law student readers, you're welcome.

Dear Property Prof,

After reviewing indefeasible vested remainders, vested subject to open, vested subject to divestment, executory interests, contingent remainders, and the Rule Against Perpetuties; it's official: I have no future interest in living.

Sincerely,
Buried in Books

There's No Wrong Way to Recycle?

After printing out rougly 15,000 pages of notes for my studying, I decided I should do something nice to get back in to Mother Earth's good graces. So I started thinking about composting. It's good for the soil, helps reduce waste in landfills, and will increase my feelings moral superiority. Perfect.

Unfortunately I live in an apartment, and I know there's no way Pete would let me have a box of composting worms living on the porch. So I cleverly decided to put up an ad on Craigslist: Want my rotting leftovers? My loss is your gain! In no time I had made arrangements with my new friend, Craigslist Composter, and I'm now saving up food scraps for him each week. (side note--While I was talking to CC on the phone, he asked if we were vegans. I didn't know how to respong properly, and before I could stop myself I blurted out, "No, not vegans, just feeling guilty!" Wtf! I hate myself.)

Yesterday was our first day, so after dinner Pete and I put all the chopped up veggie pieces and uneaten stuff in our little compost box. I had just finished washing up dishes and putting things away when I heard the rustle of plastic. I turned around to see Pete SNACKING on our fresh compost! HOW am I going to save up for Cragslist Composter if Pete EATS it all!?!? Pete claimed he was just doing his part to recycle. I hid the compost box.

Sigh. Wish me luck.

How to Single-Handedly Clear Out a Forest:

I spent two hours yesterday just printing out my outlines for exams. Then I had to go buy binders and dividers and get Kinko's to drill holes (YES, using a DRILL) in all the pages so I could get the mass of paper in the three-ring binders. Then I had to put everything together, color code, and create tables of contents so that when I totally blank during exams, I can flip to something and copy irrelevant information directly from my notes.

From this I have learned two lessons:
1) Organization is a great tool to avoid actually studying
2) A law student's carbon foot print is 10 times higher than the average person.

Sorry, GPA. Sorry, Earth.

Not Quite a Love Letter

Dear Beginning-of-the-Semester-Self,

I hate you. Your notes are incomprehensible and overly detailed. It's taking me a lifetime to sift through everything and find things that matter for my outlines. And many times, YOU DIDN'T EVEN WRITE DOWN the main point. I just want you to know that if I fail, it's all your fault.

Sincerely,

End-of-Semester-Studying-for-Finals-Self

Notes from the closet

...The storage closet that is. This weekend my brother-in-law and Pete installed electricity in what has now officially been deemed, "The-Eternal-Cave-of-Studying-and-Flashcard-ing-Complete-With-Light-Heat-and-Green-Tea." It's awesome. How did I come into possession of such a flashcard and green tea laden den? The story goes like this:

Several weeks ago, after an addictive string of home improvement shows on HGTV, I went on a rampage and cleaned out our storage closet located outside on our balcony. I proceeded to put down carpet, assemble shelves, and decorate. (My landlord would love this.) I moved in a desk, tapestry, pillows, blankets and a space heater. (Observing this from inside, Pete repeatedly complemented my "manic" behavior) Anyhow, since there was no outlet, I had to run an extension cord from inside the house and it sucked. I could only have one dim little light. It was like living in the allegory of the cave, only Plato never showed up. Or it was sort of like being a bear. A bear trying futilely with it's mushy bear brain to understand future interests and the like.

But today is a new day. A new day in which my cave is much more like a real office. A new day in which I am not a bear, but a human (albiet still trying futilely with a bear brain to understand future interests) Today I can drop 12 pounds and go on a study bender because the bright light and lack of windows prevents me from realizing I've been trapped in a 4x8 storage closet for 36 hours. There might be hope for my exam performance (not to mention my beer belly) afterall.

So thank you brother-in-law, thank you Pete, and most of all, thank you manic, uncontrollable urges to pretend like I'm on Design on a Dime. I couldn't have done it without you.

Wishing I were the turkey this Thanksgiving...

Exams begin in 15 days. In other words, I have fifteen days to learn everything I have ignored all semester. While I'd like to blame external sources that have had a tangential effect on my semester (laptop, puppies, ice cream), the truth of the matter is that my complete and total lack of legal knowledge is the result of my own negligence. Luckily, Thanksgiving break is coming up and I should have plenty of time to study. Here is my plan:

Tuesday night: Play my new law and order computer game until I pass out (practical experience, you can't beat it.)

Wednesday: Surf channels all day looking for a Law & Order marathon. (practical experience) Celebrate Pete's birthday by eating a criminal amount of cake.

Thursday: Prevent an aggravated assault and murder on the turkey by dressing him up as myself and volunteering to take his place. Then fake my own death, take my law school loans and run to Mexico.

Flawless.

The Never Ending Story

I've been on Craigslist.
I've been on [redacted].
I've been on Icanhascheezburger.
I'be been on the live puppy cam.
I've been on cute overload.
I've been on CNN.com.

And.
I'm.
Still.
In.
Torts.

I wonder if I could electricute myself to death with my lap top cord.

Nine Pages of....

Magic Memo Cocktail: Claritin, Flonase, Tylenol Cold (two tablets), two glasses of wine, Kanye West songs

I wrote the first complete draft of my memo last night. Fueled by the Magic Memo Cocktail (See above), I was able to write just one page over the limit set by our professor. However, in the bright and unforgiving light of morning, I am too scared to look at what I've written. When I went to bed last night I was satisfied that I had sufficiently explained the legal concept involved. But today I'm afraid I will open the document only to realize I've written a 9 page story about penguins. How to summon up the requisite courage?

I'm mixing another Magic Memo Cocktail. Check back for results. If the Cholera doesn't kill me first.

Return of the 19th Century

Sore Throat.
Sniffly nose.
Bodily Weakness.
Sweating profusely.
Fatigue.

There's only one expalantion: I have Cholera. And it couldn't have come at a better time: three weeks before exams.

So long cruel world!

My mother has always said I have a criminal streak, but I think law school is exacerbating the condition. With my newly acquired legal knowledge, all I can think about is how to manipulate the law to get away with all sorts of detestable crimes. Murder? But I didn't have the requisite mens rea! Stealing property? No, it was adversely possessed! Official immunity defense? I'll qualify because I already know what I have to say to succeed.

Henceforth, I will only respond to the name, "Evil Genius."

Sincerely,

Evil Genius

I'm Going to Stop Paying Rent

...because I spend all my time in the library. I can bathe in the sink. I can keep snacks in my locker. I can sleep on the bookshelves and learn by osmosis. I can buy a Bunsen burner and cook soup on my study table. I can hide my clothes in the rare book room (no one ever goes in there anyway). And more importantly, I can never. leave. the. library.

I hate myself.

In an effort not to get glued to the rediculous news coverage of this election a moment before I have to, I just watched the new 90210.

So much for brain gain.

Update 8:00 pm:
Still holding off. Although I've checked the internet a bit. The Dems have a majority in the Senate! And Barack seems to be doing well! In the mean time I'm sampling the best and worst of America: Listening to Josh Groban and watching a bunch of rednecks on Wife Swap while outlining for Torts. I may be getting dumber, but at least I can multi-task.

Update 11:31 pm:
I just watched Obama's incredible speech. Wife Swap, 90210, and CNN hologram guests aside, I'm relieved. And wondering whether I should have gone to Harvard too.

Brain Gain

Sigh. It's November and my brain is just as small and shriveled now as it was in August. In fact, after all the drinking I did on Saturday night, (Welcome home, Erin! --Anonymous) it might even be smaller. Generally I'm not so consumed with the aesthetics of my gray matter, but with exams just around the corner, I'm starting to wonder if there's anything I can do to buff up the old brain cells. Steroids? Fish oil? Air pump?

Turns out they want you to study. But that's what everyone does. So naturally I'm seeking other avenues. Email with suggestions. Until then, I'm off to find supplements on the black market...or look at pictures of puppies until finals are over. I'll leave that up to your imagination.

Back by Popular Demand

It's called writers block. Don't judge me. It's also called I'm in law school, I spend all my time writing and rewriting to keep my reputation for adequacy. So it's Halloween and I still don't have a costume. Here are a few of the many ideas shot down by my need for social acceptance...or by Pete's better judgment. You decide.

1) Mary Kate Olsen: Skeleton costume with heels and a designer bag

2) Earthquake: This actually doesn't require a costume. I would just go around shaking strangers (but not strangers who are babies)

3) Dick Cheney: But I'd have to figure out how to become invisible

4) The Economy: I didn't plan sufficiently for this one. I would have had to stop eating months ago.

5) A Vested Remainder: Hilarious law school joke that none of my normal friends would find funny.

I could think of nothing acceptable. So I decided to be a chef (snooze). I just slapped on an apron and whacked people with wooden spoons all night. And by all night I mean until 10:30pm, when I went to bed so I could wake up Saturday morning and do work all day long. Sigh.

Celebrating Mediocrity

There was a time when I regarded the word "Adequate" with disdain. I preferred to be described as "great," "above and beyond," or "mentally stable." But those days are gone. After my legal writing professor told us today that nearly everyone received a "needs substantial improvement" on our most recent research submission, I all but revelled in the glowing review that my paper warranted: ADEQUATE.

Ladies and gentleman, there's hope for me yet. According to Webster's Thesaurus, I am "decent, enough, satisfactory, acceptable, all right, average, common, decent, fair, fairish, goodish, moderate, passable, tolerable, and OK!" GOODISH? THAT'S AWESOME!

I haven't been this content to doggy paddle my way through life since my first swim lesson. (Side note: A lifeguard once tried to save my life while I was "swimming." I like to think of the incident as a clever tactic on my part. As long as my metaphorical attempts to swim look deadly, no one in my classes will ever suspect I'm the one ruining the curve.)

Here's to hoping I don't drown before the semester is over.

New Plan to Succeed in Law School: Phase Two

1. Have hobbies. You know, like flossing or crying in public.
2. Remain calm. Even if you have to use cat tranquilizers.
3. Think positive. Unless you're thinking about HIV.
4. Be confident. Example: I failed?!? Well at least I'm really good at being bad! Yes!!!
5. Don't compare yourself to others. Compare yourself to your former self. You know, the one that still had time to eat three meals a day and shower more than once a week.
6. Try to take it one day at a time. Until several days attack you at once.
7. Be friendly. Or at least be nice to people up front and talk shit behind their backs.
8. Do your best. Although, trust me, your best is probably not good enough.
9. Keep a schedule. Example: Wakeuplawschoollawschoollawschoollawschoollawschopassout.
10. Maintain a budget. Or don't. You're already 100K in the hole anyway.

New Plan to Succeed in Law School: Phase One

So the other day I was reading in the library when I was interrupted by a man I can only assume to be an enamored male suitor. He "just happened to notice" that I was studying for contracts, and offered me the outline he had prepared the previous year. It was awesome. At first I thought he was just being nice and returing a favor someone had once done for him. But after looking at myself in the mirror, I have concluded he must have been trying to find a way to casually declare his love for me.

Now, being the engaged lady I am, I can't say that I was at all interested in the implied romantic offers of this outlining savior, but I also can't say that I'm not going to come to the library covered in baby oil and a tiny bikini to try to solicit more free outline offers.

So gentlemen, (and ladies too, I don't descriminate) look for me in the back by the Federal Supplements. I'll be the one rolling around on the study tables and glimmering like a goddess under the flourescent lights.

I've Got Issues

I've been in the library for 5 hours trying to come up with the issue statement for my research assignment. I am beginning to consider throwing myself out of the second story window behind me. (Maybe I should go up to the third floor, just in case?) Consider this:

Cases read & briefed: 15
Issue formatting Attempts: 40
Successes: 0.

And after hours of cerebral effort, the only issue I have is one of self loathing.

Thanks, law school.

Questions I Ask Myself Far Too Often:

1. How did that guy/girl get in to this school?
2. Wait...what did the professor just say?
3. Is it 2011 yet? Or at least Christmas break?
4. Where is my Federal Rules of Civil Procedure book?
5. Didn't we talk about this EXACT SAME THING in Torts last class?
6. Why can't there be another 'e' in judg(e)ment, and for that matter, why doesn't Word know any legal jargon?
7. Is there anything new on icanhascheezburger.com?
8. How can I coerce Taco Meat to cover up his goods?
9. On a scale from 1-10, how creepy is it for the people behind me when I stalk their Facebook profiles during class? (15? Thought so.)
10. Is my fly undone? (Yep...oops.)

Lost and Found

My Federal Rules of Civil Procedure book is missing, and I have suspicions.


Picture this:



A band of wild hobos ransacked my book stacks while I was perusing (read: crying in a corner of) the library. Most of the books looked to be a real snooze so these dirty vagrants (how did they get in to the library looking like that?) decided to move on. But alas, a bright red cover screamed for attention! And upon picking up this little red book, the hobos realised it was the most thrilling subject of all: A bunch of complicated rules enumerating the proper procedure for filing claims in Federal court. They couldn't believe their luck! And just before I returned to my table with a pile of West's Pacific Digest, they escaped. They set up a cardboard camp on the edge of some guy's property, and read one rule per night for the thirty years it took for them to claim adverse possession on the lands.


Or maybe even this:


Taco meat stumbled across my blog. After reading a particularly scathing post about his peeking chest hairs, he decided to exact revenge. He waited until I left my things unattended and then ran off with my FRCP book, chest hairs flapping in the wind. He wears it taped to his torso every time he wears a tank top (daily).


Or more likely, this:


My Civil Procedure book is buried in the depths of my closet, never to bee seen again despite my multiple search efforts.





Crap.

I'm Marrying a Hamster

After a long stretch in the library this afternoon, I found a picture of Pete on the internet:
Not even kidding. This is the spitting image of what I see every day when I come home from school. And I'm pretty sure that's his internal dialogue as well. (He's not a great speller)

Who knew I was engaged to a celebrity?

Ha.

While sitting buried in cases and statutes, I look up to see the guy across from me reading a book: The Destruction of the Law Student.

So God has a sense of humor. So funny I forgot to laugh.

High Tea with Lord Nichols of Birkenhead

I cannot read the Attorney General for Jersey v. Holley Case. I cannot read it because the opinion is written by Lord Nichols of Birkenhead and every time I start to look over it, my internal dialouge starts reading in a British accent.

I begin thinking of crumpets. Giggling ensues. I am asked to leave the library.

Law School: 1
Me: 0

The Value of a $120,000 Education

Reading for Property Class on Feudal tenures and services:

"One Roland is recorded as having held 110 acres for which on Christmas day every year he was to perform before the king "altogether and once, a leap, a puff, and a fart."

I'd say my money has been well spent.

I fell off the wagon

Well. I haven't had internet at my house for two days. I won't get it back until Saturday. I thought this would be a nice little vacation for me. No obsessive stalking of Icanhascheezeburger.com, no reading political news until I want to leave the country, no writing backhanded compliments on friends' facebook walls and giggling to myself about it later. (I use the term "friends" loosely).

Well, less than 48 hours in, I've cracked. I went to class this morning like a junkie straight out of two days of rehab. Just call me Amy Winehouse. My hands were shaking, I was sweaty and nervous until I pulled up that first web page. And the joy came rushing back. I'm hooked. What happened in class today? Couldn't tell you. Who are my professors? Don't care. How do I like school? What school, I thought those buildings were created solely for my use and abuse of the internet.

I think I have a problem.

On another note, I've noticed that when I can be bothered to pay attention in class, I end up losing the last bit of joy I have in life: puns. The other day we were talking about assault in torts. I thought of a joke I know. It's a great one, brace yourself.

Two peanuts were walking down the street. One was assaulted.

Admittedly, it works better spoken out loud. Assaulted/A Salted. Ha! Get it? Get it!?

Anyway, I started to wonder about the alleged assault of this peanut. Who was he assaulted by? Was he merely put in immediate apprehension of imminent harmful or offensive contact or did the contact actually occur? Did the assault turn in to a battery? Was their dual intent? Single intent?

Nooooooooooo. Why, God, Why!!! I'll never be able to think about peanuts in the same way again. And I blame Torts.

I'm self medicating. Back to the internet.

How tall do you have to be to ride the emotional roller coaster?

I'm only 5 feet tall. When I was a kid my parents used to take us to this theme park, Knobles. I was never tall enough to ride the roller coasters and this infuriated me. Now, here I am, all sixty inches of me strapped in and locked down on one wild ride. Let me detail the reasons I believe I am on the verge of a nervous break down:

• The other night I dreamt that the Supreme Court overturned Roe v. Wade and I was hysterical about it. I woke up highly perturbed.

• I am scaring people in my Torts class, because it's so boring I can't help but peruse the internet. My new favorite stomping ground is http://icanhascheezburger.com/. Imagine how creepy it must be to sit behind me as I look at talking cat photos.


• I giggled all through property thinking about hobos and Adverse Possession.


• I was thrown in to a fit of rage in legal writing when the girl next to me started whining about how she didn't want to read for Criminal. Step aside, chubbs, I'm sure there are many people who would be happy to take your place at this school.
  
• I didn't do the reading for my Civil Procedure class when I knew today was the day my row had to explain the cases. This is not like me. Generally, I read the entire text book each night, just to be safe.


• And finally, what really worries me is...I HATE MY CAT. Really. I do. But tonight when my fiance took her to his mother's house because the landlord is coming over and hates the cat more than I do, I cried like I would never see her again. (Here's to hoping)

When I'm crying about a cat I despise, something is wrong.

What I'm getting at here is that through my whole childhood I could never ride a freakin' roller coaster when I felt like it. Now I'm being pushed on to one without my consent and flying all over the place unprepared. Tomorrow I have to have lunch with one of the Deans of the law school. Bet I'll make a great impression when I burst in to tears and/or hysterical laughter over my turkey sandwich.

Shit.

Manic Wednesday

My contracts professor gets so excited about contracts that he has to wear crokies so that his glasses don't fly off his face in a fit of rage about the Tunkl factors.

My property professor is about to have a nervous break down because we can only cover one case per class. Why is this? Mainly because overzealous students insist on making up uber-detailed, hypothetical scenarios to ask about during class. Today we talked about adverse possession. Simplified to a great degree, if you openly inhabit another person's land for a period of years, you can make a claim that you own the land. People were asking whether a person who lives in a mall and posts videos of themselves on the internet for 30 years could say he owned the mall. WTF?!

First of all, don't you think someone would notice if you lived in a mall for 30 years? Secondly, would a moron who lives in a mall for 30 years even know about adverse possession? No.

This. Never. Happens.

So for the duration of the class, I unsuccessfully stifled laughter and imagined a bunch of Hobos stealing a property law book, discovering Adverse Possession, and then setting up a cardboard camp on the edge of some land in order to come in to possession of it by adverse means. I love hobos.

Is it the weekend yet?

Things I mull over to keep from drooling in class

My Legal Writing professor keeps detailing things that "are not legal writing"

1. Putting one space instead of two spaces after a period: This is not legal writing.
2. Using excessive adjectives or poorly placed prepositions: This is not legal writing.
3. Failing to cite after each sentence: This is not legal writing.

(and so on)

I have just one question. Does violating the rules of legal writing make one guilty of illegal writing?

Muahahahaha.

Ponderings over a glass of wine

The best part of my day:
When LexisNexis says "Congratulations, citation wizard!" after I get a legal citation entry right. I've always wanted to be a wizard. Where's the Hogwarts school of law?

The worst part of my day:
Accusing a girl of stealing my books when I handed her my books freely and voluntarily about five minutes earlier without realizing it. This of course ties with the two altercations I became involved in when my assigned seat had been taken in two separate classes. Next time I'm getting violent.

Just call me Ms. Popularity. And then run before you become my next victim.

For Whom the Road Tolls

Dallas, in its infinite wisdom, has toll roads all over the place. Since it requires a fair amount of scrounging around for loose change for me to leave the house, I've been holed up indoors for weeks and catching up on politics. Usually this induces feelings of nausea, but today was different. Check out these two stand-up guys:

http://politicalticker.blogs.cnn.com/2008/09/01/biden-reacts-to-rove-insult/
http://www.cnn.com/2008/POLITICS/09/01/obama.palin/?iref=mpstoryview

I feel I should comment on Palin, but the woman's politics literally leave me speechless. After many conversations on her appointment, I will say this: The only explanation for her nomination is that John McCain has decided he doesn't want to be president, and she's his out.
(Ironic side note: http://voices.washingtonpost.com/the-trail/2008/09/02/palin_slashed_funding_to_help.html)

On an unrelated note, there is a God. Just when I thought the booze in this town had dried up: http://www.pegasusnews.com/drinkspecials/map/

Now. If you don't mind, I have to go scrape together a few nickels so I can leave the house.

A Day In the Life

11:00 AM, Property class:

I know nothing about the Tragedy of the Commons because I cannot concentrate in class. I cannot concentrate in class because my favorite candidate for arm-sawing is wearing a purple striped tank top. I repeat, HE IS WEARING A TANK TOP. And his very curly chest hairs are peeking out at me.

Barf.

12:21 PM, Lunch:

...Perusing emails rather than being productive...

"Monday is 'Labor Day.' Spending a day on a jet ski at the lake is not 'labor.' Thinking about contracts – that is labor, a labor of love."
--email from contracts professor

1:00 PM:

Pete tells me the proper term for curly chest hairs is "taco meat."

Double barf.

2:00 PM, Criminal Law:

Make mental notes not to date the men in the class who think that a woman who was abused for 17 years should have stayed in the marriage.

Granted, they suggested this instead of killing the husband. But I say go for it...especially if your husband constantly shows taco meat.

4:00PM, Library:

I realize men are men, no matter what the setting or level of education. The perpetual refusal to ask directions resulted in the members of my group wandering around the library just hoping to run across the proper volume of the proper reference book. It's safe to say they were lost. Until I insited we use the online catologue.

The assignment was considerably easier after that. Imagine.

6:00, Reading Assignments:

Snooze.

8:00, TV:

Passed out watching law and order (the original, obviously). It's both my favorite show and best sedative.

11:00, bar:

In an uncharacteristic fashion, I get black-out drunk. I'd love to blog more about it, but I don't remember.

Barf.
(Really this time)

Supreme Slang

"A synonym for carry in this sense is to 'pack heat.' Criminals who 'pack heat' are obviously much more dangerous than those who do not..."

United States v. Foster

United States Court of Appeals, Ninth Circuit, 1998

133 F.3d 704

I don't know about you, but I take my cues from the Justices of the Supreme Court. Looks like the term 'packing heat' is much hipper than I originally thought.

On that note, I'm off to pack some.

(...heat)

I'll saw your arm off

First of all, let me start this by saying I'm listening to the Eagle's greatest hits. If I write something you find offensive in this post, take comfort in ridiculing my taste in music.

Now.

Pete used to work at this store where a serial killer once purchased a carving knife for one of his victims. Actually, said killer tried to purchase it at Pete's store, but they were out of stock, so the killer had to go to another store near by. I need Pete to get that job back so I can appropriate the carving knife (at an employee discount, I'm a poor grad student, let's not forget) for legal purposes.

Alright, the purposes would not be legal per se but the purposes would be served in a legal environment. What I'm getting at here is that I'm going to have to saw off some arms if the students in my classes don't stop raising them. I'm tired of all the inane questions, irrelevant comments, and reminders to the professor that we actually have fifteen more minutes of class if he wants to expand on the history of torts in the 16th century. Here's a memo for all you overeager, panting puppies: No one gives a shit what you think. Especailly you, skinny white guy in the white V-neck undershirt and gangster chain. Are you going to go home and beat your wife after this? Don't answer that.

Listen, all that matters is what the professor says. He/She is not going to remember who you are and think you're smart and hug you in the halls. At most he/she will think you've done the reading. Right before he/she forgets your name. So put your hands down and use them to frantically take notes and turn pages like the rest of us.

Don't make me get out my carving knife.

The Learning Curve

I used to be the student who ruined the curve for everyone else. Now I'm in class with 100 of those students. After hours of reading and note taking, I sit down in class feeling confident until the guy next to me opens his mouth and says something smart about the Restatment 2d Contracts & US UCC Article 2.

I grasp at words to respond. I crack a joke that seemed funnier before I said it. I start sweating. I smile (probably with food in my teeth.) I concede defeat.

If only the practice of law were more akin to Murphy's law, I'd be brilliant. It's going to be a long three years.