The Kind of Malaise Only the Genius Possess and the Insane Lament

So it's the second week of classes and I'm now in the position to fully assess my prospective semester. I'm torn, because I love (most of) my classes but I hate my schedule.

I have all five of my classes on Tuesday and Thursday, with three one-hour breaks during the day. Makes me feel like a 1L all over again; all I'm missing is the deer-in-headlights expression on my face and the rolly bag. I have no classes on Wednesday and one on Friday, so that's the upside of things. I tried to rearrange my schedule after the first day of classes, convinced I wasn't stupid enough to schedule five classes for myself in one day. But I quickly discovered that was the only way to schedule my classes. So, on Tuesdays and Thursdays I'll just enjoy my flashback to 1L year, sans rolly bag.

Schedule aside, my classes are mostly enjoyable. The only stand-out exception to that is Secured Transactions, aka Law School Class From Hell. Let's establish one thing first: I'm only taking this class because it's on the Bar and I don't trust BarBri to teach it to me sufficiently. It's taught by my favorite professor at the law school, which ameliorates the pain somewhat, but he called on me the whole hour the first day of class. Awesome. On top of that, this class is a combination of hardcore contracts and finance - my own personal nightmare. I'd rather be boiled in hot oil, I think.

Am I a Heathen?

I am really, truly and officially a 3L, y'all! I just got out of my first class, Law in the Gospels. I registered for it on the recommendation of several of my friends who said that attendance was more or less optional (a good quality to have in an 8:30 a.m. class). However, after attending the first class, I think it's a class I'll actually want to go to. The professor is a charming and nervous little Scottish man who is a preeminent scholar of law in the Gospels. He invites lively discussion and has interesting views on the Bible. I have always wanted to take a scholarly class on the Bible, and I think this is going to be really good.

Apparently, if you are a student at Harvard Divinity School (and I know y'all are reading this), you can take six classes on televangelism and zero on law in the Gospels. I mean, because everyone needs to know about Ernest Ainsley and his bad toupee and Jim Bakker's Guide to Embezzlement.

Things in the Lawbrary haven't changed much. The 1L's still think they own the place and are loud and chattery. It's still hard to get a good seat by the picture window. The carpet is still ugly.

I'm going out tonight with Jay to celebrate the first day of classes by drowning myself in fine wine at Aromas and trying to forget that the Beef will be at the Dave Matthews concert while I'm still going to be in Little A-Town. That's ok, I'm get to see the Goo Goo Dolls and Counting Crows in a couple weeks.

Ok, I'm off to order a Bible on Amazon.com using my ridiculously abused free 2-Day shipping trial. Apparently the Oxford Press has a Bible that is annotated and scholarly, not preachy and obscure. Just my speed.

It's Almost That Time of Year Again

It's officially almost football season. Yes, my beloved team kicks off against some crappy, non-conference opponent who they are certain to whip soundly a mere THREE WEEKS from today. I'm so excited, I can already smell the barbeque and Brunswick Stew!

To commemorate, a Southern Baptism:


I mean, could anything be cuter? The Terrorists, of course, would beg to differ:


They are certainly little attention whores.

Conspiracy Theory #42

Every semester, I cringe when I see my textbook bill. It's just ridiculous. Some Asshole a long time ago discovered that students could be trapped into paying exorbitant prices for textbooks, despite being the most broke-ass people on earth (well, except for the starving Ethernopians).

This system worked well and good until the Rise of the Internet threatened to foil the Textbook Asshole's brilliant scheme. Thanks to Al Gore and the joys of the World Wide Web, I got my Secured Transactions book for $12.50 off Amazon.com Marketplace. Another one of my classes has no book at all. Yep, that's right: No. Book. Eat it, Textbook Asshole.

However, a third professor decided to change textbooks this year, thwarting my plan to purchase a used copy from a recent graduate desperate to recover the money she flushed down the toilet paying for BarBri. My final two classes are both taught by new professors, which forecloses the possibility of getting used books for those classes as well. And because the law school took its sweet time releasing the book list, I couldn't get those books off Marketplace, either.

Thankfully, I have a free trial to Amazon's Prime Membership dealie, which gets me free 2-day air shipping on all orders. I will probably get my free trial suspended due to abuse of the 2-day shipping privilege. I am almost certainly single-handedly responsible for the recent spike in jet fuel prices, BP be damned.

Although I've been taking an active role in depleting our fossil fuel sources so that I can get my books on time, at least I don't have to pay sales tax on Internet purchases. For some reason entirely unbeknownst to me, this Great State charges sales tax on textbooks (personally, I think the legislatures of this Great State got together with the Textbook Asshole to develop this little racket).

I might have to challenge that as cruel and unusual punishment. As if buying books isn't bad enough, we have to pay an average of $7 a book in sales tax. That's more than a large pizza and pitcher of beer costs on Tuesday nights! Just think of all the pizza and beer money being wasted away on ridiculous textbook sales tax. It's really a tragedy, especially since I'm now a 3L with no Wednesday classes and can actually go out for pizza and beer on Tuesdays.

New York, New York!

I know this is a little late, but better late than never, right? The Beef and I had a great trip to NYC July 21-24. I got to visit my best friend from college, C-Nota, who has since moved to Princeton, New Jersey. I forgive her for moving there, even though Princeton is our alma mater's hockey nemesis.

I am already in the process of making plans for this to be moved into my future house. Right next to the Money Room.

Don't mess with me and my Crazy Eye! I'll cut a bitch!

My new phalanx of body guards. They'll cut a bitch, too.

I want to meet Emily and shake her hand. Good job, my friend.

... but can he cook?

South Street Seaport, complete with crazy-electric-violin-playing-guy.

I'll post more pictures later when I have time. Right now I have to get ready to go back to Little A-Town. Classes start on Tuesday and Sunday is the Beef's birthday. Don't tell him, but I have yet to get him a birthday present. I do have something in mind, which is at least a start.

I somehow thought I would be making wads of money this summer, but after paying for bills all summer for an apartment I wasn't even living in, gas for my hellacious commute, $17.10 each week at Starbucks (yes, I calculated it), takeout when I worked until 11 (which was too often), and the trip to NYC, I am not left with nearly as much as I thought I would be. Oh well, I'm sure my good friends at Wells Fargo will be happy to oblige.

A New Record.

We got the stupid brief filed last night. Unfortunately, the Federal Court exclusively uses an e-file system, which makes the deadline midnight on the due date rather than when the courthouse physically closes at 4:45 p.m.

I left work at around 12:25 this morning and got home just after 1:00. I caught a few hours of sleep and got up at 7:30 to come back to work. As I was drinking coffee with my dad this morning at 8:15, he said, "I thought you were going in late this morning."

"I am," I said.

No Regrets.

I've been obsessing lately about making career choices. I don't want to realize in ten years that I have sacrificed important moments with my friends and loved ones for my job. The job will be there tomorrow. My friends and family may not be. There may not be another holiday dinner with the Group. There may not be another chance to visit an elderly relative - I learned that the hard, painful way when my grandfather passed away. Aside from unbelievable grief, regret was the most overwhelming feeling I had (which probably fueled my grief to some extent).

The Office had an outing last week to see "The Devil Wears Prada." While I enjoyed the movie and thought it was funny, parts of it hit a nerve with me. I don't want to be the girl that no one can count on anymore because she's a workaholic. I already feel I've let down so many people this summer. So many times I've had to postpone my weekend trips to visit the Beef in Little A-Town. So many dinners I've had to bail on with my dad. This summer, I have been That Girl.

On Monday, I put my foot down and put myself and my friends ahead of my job. My best friend from high school, K, graduated from college, and I promised I'd be there. I told the Boss I had to leave at noon to be at an important event for a friend. We have a major brief due this week, but I left work in time to get to the graduation. It felt so good to be there for K on such a big occasion. For one day, I was no longer That Girl. For one day, my friends trusted me. For one day, I had no regrets.