i have found comfort in learning that there have been other L1s (term for first year law students) who have been experiencing severe anxiety, over eating, under eating, alcohol craving, and insomnia (which i’m suffering the most out of all of these symptoms) due to the almighty wrath of intimidation.
i know it’s awful to find comfort in other people’s misery…but i do. fuck it. = )
- i see a lot more tattooed people (including women) here than i ever anticipated. now i’m definitely ready to continue my pursuit of a well tattooed outer skin =)
- women here are generally very pretty/beautiful. both. they have fashion (to my dismay) and nice hair and symmetrical faces, lending to an aesthetically appealing look, all around. i don’t know why i’m surprised by this. and no, i will not be keeping up with the jones’ with the fashion/looks department. i’m here to learn and naturaly avert female tendencies like accessorizing and dressing fashionably. that meager amount of skill i have in that department can be spent on the one night a week i actually face the public. saturdays.
- the material i’m reading/studying is interesting to me (key phrase: TO ME). i don’t get too sleepy while reading it and writing case briefs…
- i find my classes and the general atmosphere here stimulating and strictly no bullshit. i feel guilty taking time to write this. that’s how no bullshit it is.
- i’m totally scared that i can’t make my trips to nyc. i promised myself i’d study on the bus but this past weekend didn’t go as smoothly as i had hoped and nyc is my only peace of mind. i’m going to try it again, but bust my hump a little harder during the week than i did last week.
okay….must go brief about 6 cases….nice.
people keep saying how i’ll be a baller in 3 years…but allow me to explain as to how this is a farce.
when i accepted a seat at suffolk law, i made a promise to myself to NOT become a corporate power attorney. i love money but not enough to sell my beliefs and my beliefs lie in justice for the people.
THOSE kinds of attorneys, however, do not make the big bucks. they make a living, but nothing to be in awe over.
what i don’t make monetarily i will make back in the quality of my life. no guilt for representing scum bags, big corporate superpowers, or people who have enough money to buy my services whether i like it or not.
the only service i willingly commit myself to is of service to the people.
4 days of law school has put me in philosophical mayhem. bear with me.
we all have ‘em. i just have ‘em daily, if not more.
i almost didn’t go to orientation today at Suffolk….subconsciously
i got up late. on purpose.
i took my sweet ass time getting to the station and walking to the platform.
i went and bought a coffee at 9:00 am, the exact time i should have been at the orientation.
and the whole time i was subconsciously waiting for something to happen where i’d be forced to withdraw my attendance to Suffolk…that’s how ridden with fear i was.
but, with no avail, i made it safely to Suffolk and began my orientation.
it was comforting to hear some old co-workers who had also been accepted into the program express similar secret hopes…
the orientation went well…i just hope i like it. i made a promise to myself that if i don’t like it i can quit without any guilt.
i have my first case briefing to do tonight….we’ll see how fun this year gets…hehe.
r- “have a lot of people been giving you quarters at you, today?”
me- “what?”
r- “you know…being a quarter century old, and all! hahaha”
me- “god.”
i refuse to believe the age i woke up to, this morning. so help me god if i receive any quarters today…
old school irish people usually go through their whole lives not expressing themselves emotionally. anger can be easily displayed via bar fight, play fight and any other kind of figh the irish love to partake in.
but rarely do they know how to show love.
my dad is one of these people. he wasn’t born in ireland but he might as well have been, growing up in Irish saturated Dorchester in the 40′s and 50′s, raised by 1st Generation Irish. i wonder how his parents were when i see how incapable he is of giving a hug.
when we were crying, instead of a hug, we got: “i’ll give you somethin’ to cry about!” = )
and it’s funny now…but back then, that was hardcore inability to express emotion.
and over the years my dad has managed ways to show us he cares by:
- Offering Money - “do you need any money?” is always the question we get before we head out for a night of clubbing, hanging out with friends, going to the movies, etc. we’re good kids and don’t abuse this offer too often. this is his way of saying: i love you. be careful.
- Giving AAA Gold Membership Cards – Erin and I have had membership to AAA Gold since we started driving our own cars. This is his way of saying: i want you to be safe because i love you.
- Car Maintenance - He insists on doing our oil changes, transmission fluid changes, tire rotations, brake pad installations and anything else he can masterfully repair on a car. I initially thought this was to save money, which no doubt is on some level, but it’s more to take care of us since he doesn’t know how to hug and encourage.
But lately he’s been getting stranger…here are some new things he’s doing to show he cares:
Gas – This one’s relatively new and it’s only given to me as a sign of love. My dad fills up 2 gallon tanks with gas, from the gas station, every night and pours it into my gas tank. This is because he doesn’t want me to pay for gas and doesn’t ever want me to run low. BUT, he will never tell me he does this. It’s an unspoken communication. I know he does it and he knows I know.
Guns – Right before my parents left for vacation, which would leave me at home by myself, he says the following: “there’s a 35 mm underneath the blankets on my bed all loaded just in case you need it.” That’s, scarily, how my dad says he loves me. So sweet.
Dictionary – Last night, my dad gives me the first and probably the only birthday present I’ll ever receive from him: Black’s Law Dictionary for the beginning of my first year at Suffolk. I mentioned it to my mum in front of him and he picked it up for me and put it in a United States Postal Service shipping box (aka wrapping paper) and gave me a hug.
He’s definitely not like the dads you see on t.v. but he’s come a long way from threatening us when we cry.
i work in the financial district…and anyone who has been to that area of boston knows how grid’ed off it is with intersections, one ways and traffic lights.
so you’ll get your fair share of crosswalks and on those crosswalks: people to watch.
the other day, i had the sheer luck to not only peoplewatch but also peoplelisten.
it’s 5 o’clock…i work at probably the only law office in the world that is strict about it’s 9-5 business hours.
anyway, i’m waiting for the little “walk” guy to light up and i hear, to the immediate left of me, the following:
(let’s not forget to include the Boston accent)
“stop drivin’ a gas guzzlah, you’re the cause of global wahrmin’” she shouts at an SUV passing by.
my head slowly turns to my left to see who this environmental sympathizer is: a 5’0″ woman with short white hair and glasses…maybe a flowered shirt, a fanny pack and some shorts…no doubt she was wearing the calf-high socks and sneakers.
i think: wow, she’s serious about the ozone. her approach comes off as a little crazy, losing the effectivity, but she’s right in a lot of ways.
and before i could go further into my analyzation of her, the ozone, and her shouting…she does it again:
“stop drivin’ a gas guzzlah, you’re the cause of global wahrmin’” is shouted out in scolding to the next SUV she spots, driving by.
the same exact chant!
she didn’t even change it up for the pedestrians: if she changed it up, the pedestrians might tune-in once again instead of ignoring the “crazy lady”…
“stop drivin’ a gas guzzlah, you’re the cause of global wahrmin’” is repeated just as loudly as before to yet another SUV
she keeps on saying it!
now i’m intrigued….i want to see if she’s going to say it to all of the SUVs she sees….
my wondering is concluded when i see (no joke) 5 SUVs whip past us, as we wait for our turn to walk, and she says nothing.
she was defeated. she could handle SUVs buzzing by one at a time and even possibley two at a time….but five at a time???
no way.
in those few minutes i watched a microcosm of what this whole country is going through with environmentalists rallying, protesting and explaining all of the validity behind the stoppage of riding around in SUVs….blowing gas literally out its ass….only to be stunned by the whirlwind of SUVs whipping past them.
and more often than not, people choose luxury over safety.
and it’s discouraging.
i ride the T to work. massachusetts people call it the T, new yorkers call it the Metro and the english call it the tube (? is that right? or am i making shit up…it’s been known to happen…) but i ride the T.
the subway system in Boston is the first subway system ever created in the United States…so needless to say, it leaves us with a lot to be desired. but that’s not what this is about…this is about the patrons of the subway.
on my way TO work, the patrons are all of similar breed: business-business casual attire…coffee, newspapers, books, ipods in tote. no one ever looks happy, which is sad to me. i never look happy either, though, even when i am…i’m just still half asleep (not being a morning person at all) and i keep a straight face or a sleeping face while sitting on the train.
on my way FROM work to my 1987 Pontiac Bonneville, parked in Quincy Adams garage (don’t go steal it now…actually please do)…the crowd varies. not everyone on the train is of the same breed: some are touristing around the city, returning home from south station, off of a greyhound bus they took from an undisclosed location…and some are just cooky people who have awoken later than the working person and rummage their way around the train system until dinner time and find their way home after a long day of weirding out the yuppies.
these are my favorite people.
because underneath my slacks, button up and (so very) smoothed hair, i too am a weirdo. i hide it so much better than these guys because i am a young woman. no one ever suspects the young woman with the yuppie-outfit on to be quirky and ocd-like and understand the blatant fruit-cakes in a capacity greater than they would anticipate.
but the other day, i found my match. the one person whom i couldn’t relate to on the crazy-level…and i couldn’t figure out where he was coming from. and had i not been so close to him, i might not hav noticed this impenetrable level of strange:
the “junk” portion of his crotch area on his jeans was worn out … there were holes there. and why/how did i see and notice this? i was napping on the train and awoke to someone’s junk in my face…with holes in the fabric.
…holey junk.
now here’s the problem…he looked clean cut. that doesn’t always mean something, but for a holey junk area…i think assessing the rest of the person and their attire is reasonable in hypothesizing the reasons behind why he’d do such a thing:
1. he bought a pair ‘distressed’ jeans on clearance…for the obvious reason of it being distressed in a precarious area.
2. he could one of those genius types who only focuses on probabilities and rides the train around the city to prove theories….and he’s been so wrapped up in one theory, that requires him to lean over roughly textured surfaces for periods on end, for so long that he completely neglected to check and see if his junk has worn a hole through his jeans.
3. he dropped a power sander on his jeans, that were lying on the floor, and he hasn’t saved up enough money to buy a new pair.
4. (shudder) (but this one is probably closer to the truth than i’d like to admit) he likes rubbing himself up on trees, statues, park benches, etc. and he was on his way home from a long day of doing that. he planned on changing his jeans once he got home for a new day of rubbing, tomorrow.
5. he intentionally sands down that part of his jeans, to catch a draft. he may like a gentle breeze on his junk. and he enjoys when girls who are innocently sitting on the train to look up, out of their cat nap, to notice the holes right there. and both things, together, make him the happiest man in the world.
i’ll never know…but i suggest you double check your jeans tonight, gentlemen, if you plan on having anyone at eye level with your junk area, tomorrow.
godspeed.
as of right now…i’m $10,000.00 in debt (beijing) and have $300.00 in my checking account, that really should be withdrawn and sent to a few people (read: companies) I owe money to.
so how am I going to pay for my first year of law school, totalling (including ‘living’ expenses) to $51,943.00 ???
well I’ve heard enough stories about kids from the projects who get through medical school and immigrants who manage their way through dental school….so I should be able to get through law school.
loans up the ass, no doubt. but I should be able to get through this, nonetheless.
right?
anyone looking for an indentured servant? the only restriction is you have to live on the red line so I can get to school everyday… oh sigh.
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