In other news:

I make PR listen to me practice my appellate argument almost daily. Over the weekend I made the mistake of telling him that our coaches told us to treat the Justices like 8-year-old kings because they know nothing about the issues but still demand an enormous amount of respect. Telling him this was a mistake. Now when I want to practice PR tries to convince me to be his minstrel and speaks only in a heavy, medieval British accent. Sometimes this carries on for hours. Thanks, coaches.

If Slow and Steady Wins the Race, I'm Screwed.

Everyone says law school is more like a marathon than a sprint. You put in the time, the training, and the discipline, and then maybe you don't die on the last 5 miles stretch. Here's the thing: I've never run a marathon. I've never even done a 5k. I once begged a friend to come with her car and drive me through the last few laps of a family fun run.

Fourth graders passed me.

And so it goes with law school. The danger of having survived last semester with little struggle is that this semester I've patted myself on the back too often. To put it lightly, I have slacked off like never before. My average hours of napping have skyrocketed while my hours of studying have hit an all time low. Motivation is at a bare minimum. Interest in PR's Wii is on a rise. And so on and so forth.

Until...today I woke up and realized that my exams--my ONLY grades for the entire semester--begin in roughly one month. Looks like it's too late to start that marathon training...So the sprint begins. Anyone know a good personal trainer?

(Please send referrals. I can be found in my office. Not to be confused with a storage closet.)

Property:

67 minutes remaining
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FREEDOM.

If law school doesn't work out, I'm considering a career as an egg timer.

As a rite of passage (aka hazing tactic) School of Law requires all 1Ls to compete in an oral advocacy competition. Basically what this means is we have to get up in front of a panel of judges and persuade them to take our side on a certain legal issue...without drugging any of their drinks. (This is the hard part) Then another team gets up and tries to persuade the judges to take the opposite side. (No flashies allowed...damn) It's essentially just legal tug-of-war--think less mud but more mud-slinging.

I was dreading this competition. I do not want to be a litigator. I'm more of the warm and fuzzy type. Or so I thought. Today while we were practicing with our opponents, a strange thing happened:

I became the Hulk.

No really. My little pear shaped body was taken over by brain rage (the academic alternative to 'roid rage) . I suddenly got really in to the competition, scribbling notes for my rebuttal argument with rigor, squirming in my seat, looking around for TUMS so I could foam at the mouth during my conclusion. It was alarming. I had to sit on my hands to keep from throwing punches. (unsuccessful...sorry, Your Honor)

What I'm getting at here is that I think I have a new calling: Ladies and Gentlemen, you are looking at the new, improved, and slightly less green version of the Hulk.

Maybe I should take up wrestling? Or surrender myself to a lifetime of motivational speeches against steroids? I'm open to suggestions.

How My Con Law Professor Just Spelled Usurp:

URUSP.


And she's teaching me about the foundation of American law.

I interviewed with the TSA today. And basically, I begged them to give me an internship. Really. Begged. I couldn't shut up. And I couldn't stop giggling. They probably think I'm on meth. (Although, for the record, I'm not, potential Patriot Act spies) Regardless, I'm bracing myself for another failure. Sigh.

Murphy's Law: Rule in Action

"And then I got pulled over for DWI by a bike cop."
-- Friend/Really Slow Driver

Words of Wisdom

"And on the third day, God created contingent fees." --Property Prof

VICTORY!!!!

Dear Ms. _______,

We are pleased to invite you to join the _____Forum as a research assistant. Attached, please find our offer letter. If you have decided that you would like to join us, then please either (1) Print, Sign, Scan, and e-mail it back to us as a PDF or JPG, or (2) Fax it to us at (xxx) xxx-0533.

We apologize for the delay in our response and we appreciate your patience.

Sincerely,

_________ _________

Take that, humility.

Alright. I admit it. Being a full time law student isn't so bad.

But don't tell anyone.

Attorney > Salon Job

While I'm quite tired of all the pressure of trying (and failing...repeatedly) to get a legal internship for the summer, today I appreciated my career path for a fleeting moment:

I fell asleep and started drooling while my stylist was washing my hair this afternoon. He looked really uncomfortable as he prodded me back to consciousness. I woke up and wiped the drool off my face with his towel. (What? Sue me!) It must be an awkward profession.

Then:



Now:





I miss you, Spring Break.

Rejection

After a good first interview, and a promising call back meeting, I felt like I had a pretty good shot at getting a PAID internship with the legal department at Insurance Company. Although I tried not to get my hopes up, I was secretly planning my acceptance speech ("I really didn't expect this! Wow! I'd like to thank the academy, my parents, my dermatologist..."). I was told a decision would be made Thursday afternoon or Friday morning. I waited like a love-sick teenager by my phone for nearly 48 hours. I tried to act nonchalant, but P became suspicious when he caught me attempting to water-proof my phone before I got in the shower.

But here's the thing: whether you're a love-sick teen (get a life) or a desperate law student (also an argument here about getting a life), and you find yourself glued to the phone, you didn't get the job/date/date with your job. I suspect that Jesus took one look at my hopes (and a draft of my acceptance speech), laughed, and put them through the paper-shredder with all of his misspelled junk mail . I'm tired of being let down. I'm tired of not being good enough when all my life I've been the best.

Some call this a lesson in humility. I call it a lesson in why people end up joining cults. Just saying. I could use a little acceptance.

Career services at School of Law sends out a weekly email about their meetings. This week's seminar 'How to Plan your Career in Bankruptcy.' Plan? for Bankruptcy? It's called getting loans for law school. I should be giving this lesson: I'm an old pro.

Law Students in Sheep's Clothing.

It's interviewing season for 1Ls at School of Law, and I've found I am immediately more popular when I'm wearing a suit. Suddenly I'm better looking AND funnier. Everyone is just dying to pal around with me. Everybody loves my shoes and my hair and my great handwriting. I get high-fives all around, people offer me beer and candy and happy meals and bunnies. I like to attribute all of this to my great personality, which is especially accented by my sleek business-like appearance. But let's be honest (yes, even I have to live on planet earth once in a while) what these bastards really want is to know whether I'm interviewing for a job they wanted.

Rude.