Fear and Loathing in Law School

Once upon a time, you had a friend who wore high heels, traveled the globe, and danced on tables in fancy night clubs. But one day she disappeared into the wilds of the Midwest, never to be heard from again. This is her story…

(Insert theme from Law & Order)

Let me start by saying that I miss all of you more than I can even express. I've managed to stay somewhat in touch with some of you, but I haven't really given anyone an update in a while. Hence the impersonal group e-mail (a great solution to everything from party invitations to snake bites).

I'm happy to report that I am finally adjusting to life in the Midwest and the grueling demands of law school. Right now I have classes seven hours a day, and my biggest problem is finding enough time to study. I've begun identifying things that consume time and systematically cutting them out of my schedule; so far talking to my parents, shaving my legs and, oh, eating have gone by the wayside. (As I type this I'm also simultaneously taking a shower, studying contracts, and packing tomorrow's lunch.) Next I plan on cutting out breathing, only because the inhale wastes valuable time that could be better spent reading statutes.

As far as my mental state goes, I vacillate between thinking that I'm the most brilliant legal mind of all time to thinking that I'm so stupid there must be something wrong with my brain. Things are pretty cluttered in my head right now, so I've taken to making lists to remember things. Here's one I go through in the mornings before I leave the house:

Bus pass – check

Text books – check

Consumed with self doubt – check

$60,000 in debt – check

Okay, so maybe law school is kicking my butt, but I'm not going down without a fight. And when I do get the occasional minute to myself, there is something to be said for life in the Midwest. Things that might make the next three years bearable include finally having a refrigerator that reaches higher than my hip and being the seventh hottest girl in town instead of the seven millionth hottest girl in town. Adjusting to driving after 11 years of taking the subway is hard, but my new neighbors were incredibly understanding when I ran over their vegetable garden and almost hit their dog. My new apartment doesn't contain a single piece of furniture that serves as bed/sofa/dish drain/desk, and parking tickets are $5. (HAAAAHAHAHA!) Maybe life where the dairy cows do roam may not be so bad after all…

I hope to be home for Christmas, but if I don't keep in touch between now and then, feel free to come to Wisconsin and mock and scorn me until I beg for mercy. Oh wait, my professors are already doing that.