Frequent Citations

It Comes To This

The other night I was coming home and saw two Army transports of some kind parked in front of one of the ritzy hotels by the Park.  A whole swarm of Army men in uniform milled about on the sidewalk, smoking and drinking and looking the way Army men in their dress uniforms do--yummy handsome and distinguished.  It finally occurred to me that the next day was Veterans Day and they were probably in town for the battleship reopening hoopla or something.

This morning a whole line of Deloreans loitered in front of my office building.  One of them was green!  There must have been six or eight of them total, which was quite a sight.  A couple of dents here and there aside they still looked in great shape.  Funny, it's quite the dated design now, though, I think.  It wasn't a classic design like the English do where one Rolls or Jag or Bentley doesn't ever look that much different from another  (leaving aside the truly ancient Rolls, perhaps).  And it wasn't a stunning or sleek design like the Italians often do, timeless in their outrageously muscular way. 

Still, I enjoyed seeing them.

Tomorrow morning they release our Bar results.  Yeah.  I'm a wreck.  But I want to say now, for the record, before I get my results:  I love my job.  I really love what I do, even the dorky low-man-on-the-totem-pole stuff, and not just because they pay me well to do it.  So I hope I get to keep it.

Ack.

Deja Vu Again

I keep running into the same people, sometimes on purpose and sometimes by accident. They all have the same bleary-eyed and careworn look... yeah, former classmates.

I've run into them at coffee shops and on the bus, coming and going from class. And, of course, on a friend's patio where we gathered last night for drinks and commiseration. It's nice to keep seeing people for a little while before we scatter to the four corners.

We compare notes on bar exams, which states are covering which subjects, who's making flash cards, where people are studying. Sometimes we break out of the bar exam stranglehold on our lives and talk about clerkships and bar trips, or who's still looking for a place to live and have you sold your place yet? me neither.

We know each other so well in some ways, not at all in others.

Fearing Flailing

Last night it was a spectacularly beautiful evening, temperate and clear with an enormous moon, and TFL took me for a long ride on Bonnie. It was a long enough ride that my mind finally disengaged and floated, happy to be on the bike and watching the moon and not studying for the bar. Then I came home and worked for another couple of hours, staying up too late once again.

LL often has a way of capturing my thoughts on family and husbands. It's funny, even though she's at a far different place in her life in terms of the husband-and-family timeline, she's the only other woman in our class who understands from experience the pull they exert even when you really really need to find a cave to hide in until you've learned enough to pass whatever test is looming. (Other classmates are married, so they definitely understand some of it, but she's the only other woman in the class who's a mom.)

Sometimes they're a huge distraction, and sometimes that's a wonderful thing. Sometimes they're a huge help, too, like when they cook for us or listen to our whining give us a big hug when we most need it. Either way, my life is infinitely better for having my husband and children in it, so I'll just cope with being woefully behind in bar prep (there are practice questions? really? and where would I find those and the time in which to do them?) and not let myself fall into despair (yet) and start flailing around in an endless fit of panic over the test the lecturers have informed us is "fearful."

I'll save that for next week. Or maybe the week after. I might have to have a conniption fit about the flat not selling before I get around to freaking out (more) about the bar.

Lameness Of Official Photography

The graduation had an official photographer who took extremely lame pictures. He didn't even make it to the hooding ceremony, so none of the pictures have that beautiful impressive hood in them! Good thing my family was there taking lots of pictures, all of which were much better anyway. Here I am chatting with a friend.

The Obligatory Whither Now? Post

Lots of law school bloggers find themselves wondering, whither now? Do we keep blogging when we can no longer complain about professors? Is there much point to blogging when we can't say one word about work, which will consume 110% of our waking hours?

I started this blog to keep my family apprised of my continued existence while buried in the non-stop fun and games that is law school. I don't see my life becoming less hectic, even if it becomes less share-able.

One of the main benefits of the blog for me has been the way it forced me to look up from my mound of work sometimes and find something else to say about life. Whether it was noticing that the trees were, in fact, blooming again, or ranting about some current event, I would occasionally break out of the law school mind set and that was good for me.

So for the moment I think I'll continue. I'll regale you with the thrills of my Bar preparation adventures, agonize over the unsold status of our flat, keep you up to speed on our progress to the new and improved location.

Bonus picture: GirlChild's wall pocket with a flower.

One JD Degree: Check.

Not until I held the card with my name and line number did I believe--truly believe--that I was getting my degree.

But I did!

There I am with my snazzy outfit and some friends. Pretty cool hood, huh?

We dug out TFL's hood for comparison. Mine is bigger. But yeah, his is very pretty.

But my hat is totally awesome, no?

Pomp, circumstance, a zillion pictures, and lots of friends and family -- and a hood, and a diploma. (PBB's diploma is much much prettier but I had the better hat.) So there we go. Three years, endless blood sweat and tears, and a lot of laughter later, and I'm a JD. Heh.

The Honors List

The Honors List came out today. One person made highest honors, which doesn't necessarily happen every year, so that's rather cool. What pleases me is that more than the usual number of women are on it. In fact, a stunningly large number of women are on it, including a bunch from Law Review. So my hearty congratulations to them all. There are a couple who made Coif too, which is just a heck of a thing. I'm very proud of each of them.

And no, for the first time I can recall I didn't make honors. I knew I wouldn't. In some ways I think I am bitter about grades, and I think I've decided it's ok to be bitter about them. Being annoyed when I don't get a better grade in a subject I know inside and out, or for a class I killed myself for, is not an unreasonable reaction. But whatever. I'm reconciled to two things: my mind is slower than it was when I was a sweet young thing, and I have other stuff going on in my life. No one on the honors list was raising teenagers. Besides, even if I stink at 3-hour exams, and never conquered my exam anxiety, I learned an awful lot. I met great people, made good friends, and most of all,

I made the list of graduates!

So that will be me, wearing an awesome hat and getting a diploma and hood, and generally reveling in having achieved a life-long dream with a modicum of style.

Now I Feel Done!

The last paper is done. Everything is done. DONE.

The feeling is wonderful beyond belief.

Solidly Nice

Above the Law, that source of all real news in the legal world, had a link to an op-ed in the Washington Post. Written by a 1L at Yale, it describes the overachieving but not very nice people with whom she goes to school. And I thought to myself, huh.

That has not been my experience. I go to school with people who are that overachieving, amazing, inspiring. They are also nice. They not only send notes, they often do so without being asked. They'll not only lend textbooks, they'll sit down and explain tricky concepts, or critique your paper, or moot you. They'll support you when your life goes down the toilet and celebrate with you when you triumph.

And they're nice in the little ways that can make a difference--the nod in the hall, the offer of a lift, the compliment on your haircut. True, some of them have no manners at all in the library, but most of them are relentlessly polite and often truly kind. By and large, I think I go to school with very good people. It's not a regional thing either, because this is a national school.

But it's an interesting point, that often those overachieving type A++ people are not always kind to their neighbor. It reminds me of my all-time favorite quote from a movie:

My mother once said to me, "Elwood" -- she always called me Elwood -- "Elwood, in this world you must be oh so smart or oh so pleasant." For years I tried smart. I recommend pleasant.

Writing An Opinion (Or Four)

For my First Amendment class I have to write a Supreme Court opinion. But it has to address two separate issues, so that's really two opinions. Only I also have to write a dissent for each opinion, so voila--four opinions.

And I have less than 24 hours in which to do it.

I've done (most of) the reading I need to do, including some articles that made my head spin before it exploded. I've even sketched out some of my arguments. But the actual writing? Erm, not so much. Egad, it's going to be a long long night. And day.

And then I get to plunge into studying for Securities, which I rescheduled for Saturday due to my Tax exam today (well, yesterday now--Wednesday). The people who took Securities today came out of there looking ashen and mentioning that their hopes of graduating with honors were now permanently dashed. The omens are not propitious.

So...here I go. Write write write. Starting now! ish.

. . .

It's now about an hour and a half later. I've written . . . some. And I've maybe read a few news items. Possibly, I've taken a quiz and caught up with a blog or two. Yes, I'm nearly as bad as LL, although not having quite such a bad week. Seldom have I been so happy that those days of miserably ill (though adorable) babies are so long behind me.

But now I've decided that even I, self-professed political junkie, am sick of the news. So maybe I'll go back to writing about freedom of speech.

. . .

Several hours later and I'm both hitting a groove and getting pretty darn tired. Sigh. I think I have a pretty comprehensive outline of the opinion(s) done, but it's no more than an outline and a few paragraphs right now. The footnotes have already begun, though. He's going to kill me. Time to go make tea and try to write while it's flowing.

. . .

Oof. It's 5:30 am. I've got some decent stuff down on paper (electronically speaking) but I have a long way to go. I may need to go take a nap. I wish I didn't do my best writing between 1 and 5 am. It really messes up the rest of my schedule.