After crossing my fingers through my September birthday and through Christmas in the hopes of receiving a Chapman Law sweatshirt, and subsequently being disappointed that I didn’t get one (Boyfriend, I’m looking at you if you’re reading this), I finally decided to bite the bullet and just buy one for myself.
Yup. Today I ponied up the $60 for a law school sweatshirt. $60! That’s not nearly as much as the almost $200 a pop for each of my casebooks, but somehow it still seems a bit much to me. But who am I to complain? I still bought the thing, didn’t I? I guess it’s a small price to pay to keep from freezing to death in the 45-degree California winter.
While waiting in line at the bookstore to purchase said sweatshirt, one of the bookstore supervisors grabbed some bags of candy and asked if anyone knew who was in the Super Bowl this year. I looked at the undergrad girl behind me who had the same bewildered “Dude. Wtf?” look on her face.
Wrong people to ask. Seriously. When some of my Facebook friends’ feeds were abuzz with the matchup between some team and the Jets, all I could think of were scenes from West Side Story. Like this one:
Needless to say, neither I nor the undergrad behind me got the candy.
Speaking of cool, one of the more awesome law school class moments came up this morning during Torts. The teacher, lets call him Mr. Giles because he reminds me of Giles from Buffy the Vampire Slayer, had someone on deck, but he had opened up a question to the entire class.
I sit in the front row, and I knew better than to look up and make eye contact with the teacher if I didn’t want to answer the question. I had done so in the past and had learned my lesson: Never. Look. Up.
I kept my eyes glued to my screen, typing some gibberish about a psychiatrist’s duty to warn, and maybe some lines from Journey’s “Don’t Stop Believing”. Luckily, I escaped teacher’s eagle eyes. The student seated to the left of me, however, was not so lucky.
Mr. Giles: So what do you think, Mr. Student?
Mr. Student: Um. Sorry. I wasn’t listening.
There was a teensy moment of silence: Reverence for Mr. Student’s ballsy answer? Fear for Mr. Student’s life? We may never know. But rather than bite the student’s head off, Mr. Giles laughed. The student laughed. The class laughed. It was awesome.
Mr. Giles: (laughing) If I wasn’t listening, I would have at least covered it up.
Then Mr. Giles looked down onto his roll sheet to look for someone to put on deck for the next case. Mr. Giles scrunched his face, seemingly trying to decide whom to call on next. He looked up from the roll sheet, looked around the room, and, not missing a beat, turned his head to my side of the classroom once again.
Mr. Giles: Mr. Student, can you please tell us about the next case?
Photo: I Can Has Cheezburger
So here we are, kids. I am a little less than 24 hours away from taking my first law school final. It’s been a heck of a ride, and I know that it will only get harder from here. I also know, however, that it will get a bit more tolerable once I know what is expected of me during these exams. Still, that is little comfort when tomorrow’s Torts exam determines 95 percent of my grade for the semester. And the professors are required to curve the grades, which means you are graded against your fellow class members. Gulp.
But seeing where I’ve been also makes me feel a smidgen of accomplishment. If you’re a fellow 1L, you should be proud of yourself too!
Number of pages read in Torts:
Number of pages read in Civil Procedure:
Number of pages read in Property:
Number of pages read in Contracts:
Number of LRW memos written:
Number of pages written for memo No. 1:
Number of pages written for memo No. 2:
Number of cases read for memo No. 1:
Number of cases read for memo No. 2:
Number of supplements consulted:
Number of pages in outlines:
Number of times I’ve used FML in a status update:
For serious, kids. There are starving babies in Africa. And something called medical school, which is super hard if you believe Grey’s Anatomy. It’s called perspective.
For some more perspective on finals at my law school, check out this column!
For some strange reason, I feel more compelled to post to this blog during this week before finals than I did during the course of the semester. Maybe it’s the guilt of not writing that’s catching up to me, or just general avoidance of my casebooks, class notes/outlines and commercial outlines, but here I am.
It could also be the fact that my Undergrad Neighbor, a student at a local university, decided to invite his noisy friends over to his place, which I share a wall with. Dudes, I haven’t met any of you, but you all sound like complete turds.
Yup, I heard one of you trying to sound smart and worldly by talking about Pablo Picasso’s “Guernica” while puffing on your cigarette. But, seriously, fool, anyone who’s taken a community college art history course can regurgitate art speak that sounds vaguely brainy and deep. Next thing you know, you’ll be talking about chiaroscuro, melting clocks and how Gauguin made you confront your own mortality. Turd.
Yeah. Finals make me feisty and grumpy. Folks who wear sunglasses indoors, you’re next on my list.
I know I could study at the library, especially now that it has extended hours for finals. But I study best when I’m at home where I have a hot pot of free coffee nearby.
“It shall be unlawful to conduct or allow to be conducted any party where there is loud and unreasonable noise between the hours of 10:00 P.M. and 6:00 A.M., if such noise is sufficiently loud and unreasonable in volume level, duration and character to maliciously and willfully disturb the comfort, health, peace, safety or repose of reasonable persons of ordinary sensibilities. Continuation of an activity prohibited by this section after notification by a peace officer that the activity is disturbing the peace, shall be prima facie evidence of malicious and willful intent.”
I’m not sure if the group next door is large enough to be considered a party, but looking up the ordinance made me feel better. It also led me to this little gem about hypnosis buried in the municipal code:
“No person shall carry on, or practice, exhibit or teach the business or the art or practice of hypnosis, nor teach self-hypnosis to any person undergoing a course of treatment or program of self-improvement except … Nothing in this section shall prohibit a peace officer, as defined in Chapter 4.5 (commencing with Section 830) of Title 3 of Part 2 of the California Penal Code, from utilizing hypnosis in the fulfillment of his or her duties as a peace officer.”
Maybe the police can come over and hypnotize Undergrad Neighbor’s friends into not being turds anymore. Oooh, and maybe they can use this video:
If you have noisy neighbors, here’s what someone suggests you do.
Photo: launceston_lad / Flickr
Hi, all! Trying out a new website I stumbled across called ToonDoo, which lets you create your own comic strips and customize your own characters! Yeah, I should be studying. Back to it then.
I didn’t want it to happen, but it did.
At the start of this first week of law school, I was too terrified to speak up in class. Over the course of the week, however, I evolved from thinking about raising my hand to actually raising it above my head to reluctantly volunteer information.
That’s not necessarily a good thing.
Before I started school, I vowed that I would quash my Steve Urkel or Hermione Granger-like tendencies to raise my hand whenever the professor raised a question.
I vowed this not as a strategic move, but rather as a way to stop myself from buying into the mindset that I had to show my legal prowess in class in order to establish my place in the 1L pack.
I didn’t want to be one of those people who strutted around making their legal pecs dance in order to “sound smart”, because, honestly, even as a 1L I know that what matters the most is how one performs on that final exam and not how much of a wunderkind your classmates or even your professors think you are.
Those thoughts went out the door when I saw how eager some of my fellow classmates were to unzip their legal zippers and lay out their legal junk on the table to measure whose just happened to be bigger.
“Oh yeah? Take a look at this!”
I can’t attest to what my fellow classmates were thinking, but I think I know why I bought into the temptation to show just how big my law balls are.
Many of us 1Ls are accomplished enough that, when we go into law school, we know what it’s like to be the big, um, fish in each of respective disciplines. It’s only in law school that we learn just how small we are.
We feel compelled to perform and posture because of feelings of inadequacy, that maybe we’re not as smart as we thought we were, that maybe we’re not cut out for law school.
Let’s call it the 1L Napoleon Complex.
I have to keep reminding myself of that old adage that size doesn’t matter. It’s what you do with it that counts.
But Teenie Me says she’s got it down. She read the first week’s worth of homework over the weekend.
Yeah. She’s a gunner.
Teenie Me is super ambitious. On the first day of orientation at The Blawgirl’s law school, the dean of students stated that there could be only one No. 1 student. Yup. Law school is kind of like Highlander, only without the kilts and big ass swords.
Teenie Me aims to be that student and has already threatened The Blawgirl, stating that she will hide case books toward finals.
The photo at the left was taken last week, even before the The Blawgirl had gotten her mile high stack of casebooks and supplements.
Head on over to The Shark to read about The Blawgirl’s first day of law school orientation!
One of my favorite things to do when I was younger was watch design shows, especially the ones that had episodes that discussed how to deliver a one-two punch of functionality and form in a small space. From those shows, I learned that in small spaces – and especially in studio apartments – you need to define areas based on their functions.
Apparently, doing so will make even a teensy space feel big.
Keeping this in mind, I made a list of the things I wanted to do in my apartment, and planned the space accordingly. I wanted a place to chill/read magazines/watch TV. I definitely wanted a place specifically for sleep, and not a futon sofa. I needed storage for my books and clothes. And I definitely needed a nice place to study and blawg.
As a result, the living area was divided into three corresponding spaces: a place to study, a place to sleep and a place to watch TV/catch up on the Jon and Kate tabloid fiasco. Take a look. (Note: sketch is not to scale)
Moving involved two days. The first day was devoted to putting stuff in the already-existing shelf space. Day two involved bringing in the bigger pieces of furniture. And thanks to The Boyfriend, my mom, dad and brother, things got moved in fairly quickly. Here are the results! (Click through the mosaic to get to my “Moving In” photoset on Flickr for more details on what went into the space!)
I’m not sure exactly what law school will bring when I get started at orientation next Wednesday. I won’t get my schedule until then. I don’t know what to expect of the teachers I get. I don’t know if I’m going to kill myself over the work load.
The only thing I do know for certain is I’m going to be well caffeinated during the course of the next year.
That’s because there is no shortage of coffee houses in the general vicinity of the Chapman University School of Law, which I live just a block and a half from. On a recent walk to the local library, I passed by at least half a dozen coffee shops and even more restaurants that serve specialty coffee drinks.
Add those to the coffee maker I have at home, and you have a jittery Blawgirl. Hurrah!
Searched for “cafe” around Old Town Orange (Calif.) in Google Maps:
Photo: I Can Has Cheezburger
About The Chronicles of a BlawgirlThis blawg follows Julie Anne Ines as she continues her law school journey as a 3L in Fall 2011. Learn more about her here. Find/stalk her online profiles using the social toolbar at the bottom of your browser. Email her at ja_ines (at) msn (dot) com. Thank you for reading!
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