Ooooommmmmmmmmmmlalalala

It is almost over.

We are so close, and I think that I should be able to say to myself - Focus. You're almost there. Hang in for just these last few days.

But the end is beaming so brightly at me that all I can think about are the books I'm going to read, the projects I'm going to do, the projects I'm going to start and not finish, the late mornings in bed, the brunches, the cooking, the laughing, the all the other things that aren't right here right now.

My inner buddhist is screaming in agony.

Less than six days until...

Small things

Today as I was packing up from my new study spot (the glorious outdoor terrace in our apartment building), I noticed that there was something on the power cord for my computer. I bent down and saw... a slug.

He was just hanging out there on the cord, but as I gently moved it, he shrank up a bit as slugs do. And then he made his way onto the patio. And I wrapped up the cord and put it into my bag and headed back upstairs. And left the slug to do his sluggish things.

I'm not sure why, but it made my day a little bit.

Now hear this, Brain

Here's a list of some things that should be taking up the extremely limited, valuable space in my extremely overstressed brain:

1. What type of speech falls into the protections of the 1st amendment?
2. What qualifies as a valid search incident to arrest?
3. If someone says, "Maybe I should talk to a lawyer?" does the officer have to stop questioning them?
4. What are the drawbacks to roadblock statutes?
5. If a region meets its ambient air quality standards for lead, can a permitting body still be sued for contributing to lead pollution?
6. How in sweet jesus's name (yes, i just did) am I going to take a closed book crim pro exam?


The following is a list of concerns that are actually taking up space in my overstressed brain:

1. These pants seem tighter than they did last time I wore them.
2. Will the babe and I have a bris for our son? The one who isn't born or conceived yet? And no, the babe and I have not recently gotten engaged or decided to start a family.
3. Exes. Should they be friends? My exes? The babe's exes? How do I feel about this?
4. I've been eating a lot of junk food. A lot a lot. [See #1]
5. Should women get labiaplasty? Special thanks to Jessica Gottlieb for that one.
6. I don't really have any friends from high school. The only real contenders are my best friend from that time, and we haven't really gotten over the whole my being gay thing, and my ex-boyfriend. [See #3]
7. Do I like this haircut?
8. Some of the pretty and popular girls from high school that I've been facebook stalking are now really beautiful women with handsome husbands and cute babies. That annoys me.
9. My school just fell in the rankings. I care. Blast.
10. I should do more yoga.
11. I'm not really up enough on current events. I know nothing. I should read more news.
13. How in sweet jesus's name am I going to take a closed book crim pro exam?


I'm thinking lobotomy?

Overheard in the hallway

The law school ethos

"I guess I'll do it. It'll look good on my resume for leadership and all that crap."

This post, like law school, is stupid

Things I would really like to be doing right now instead of outlining criminal procedure:

In no particular order.

1. Eating a cheeseburger.
2. Sleeping.
3. Having sex.
4. Watching really bad television.


In less than two weeks I'm going to slather myself with beef and cheese (and maybe mustard) and lay on the couch and try to seduce the babe (which will be difficult since she's lactose intolerant and, even if she weren't, doesn't combine meat and dairy, and also, probably won't be attracted to me while I'm covered in meat because she'll be focused on the fact that I am dripping grease all over the carpet and the couch) while an episode of Pimp my Ride plays in the background (because why be judicious with your tv watching when you have enough time to watch whatever the hell happens to be on). And then sleep.

I promise that I haven't completely lost my mind.

Or, in the alternative, I have.

(In)Sanity Gal is Fast...er than some people

Ran the race, biotches!

No offense. I'm in a profane mood. I'm in the journal house; the printer is taking forever; I'm substantiating during reading days.

Anyway, that's not the point.

T and I ran the 8K race yesterday, coming in 63rd and 64th (we actually were right next to each other, but I guess it takes them a second to punch in the numbers) out of 81 people, which I think is Not Bad At All. We ran it in 53 minutes and 46 seconds, which (in case you're fuzzy on your math), is less than 11 minute miles. And there were Hills. Big, long ones.

Some of you out there might think that's not all that special, but we think it's Kind Of Great.

I'm also in a Capitalizing mood.

This isn't a funny post

My dear friend T asked for an update on the crazy jar.

So, full disclosure:

The jar sat on the counter for about a week with 2 quarters in it.

But the other day I took the quarters out and put the jar back in the closet.

This semester has been a tough one, emotionally. And the last few weeks have been particularly difficult. There's been a lot of crying, a lot of feeling crazy, and a lot of projecting. For those of you who don't do the therapy lingo, I'm talking about having a feeling about myself and then pretending like that feeling is actually coming from someone else. It's a super fun thing to do when you're in a relationship.

The thought process goes something like this:

Ugh. I feel like shit. I'm so tired of feeling like shit. I don't even know why I feel like this. Everybody's stressed out - why can't I just accept it like they do? What is wrong with me? I'm so annoyed with myself. I must be annoying to be around. The babe must be so tired of dealing with me.

See what happened there?

The last sentence. I put feelings into the babe's head. And then I wrote a blog post with the premise that the babe must be so tired of dealing with me.

And it was funny, because sometimes sad things are funny.

But then sometimes they're not anymore. They're just sad.

So no more crazy jar.

I'm not saying I'll stop projecting because that's a work in progress. But I'm not going to support the behavior with a change jar.

My therapist would be so proud.

Tween Wisdom

I was eleven and convinced that I had been adopted - in the way that you're convinced of things when you're eleven. Meaning that I was convinced of it every time my mom made me pick up the dishes or set the table or leave my sister alone.

That was the kicker.

I was always being getting in trouble for bothering my sister. Apparently my being older required that I be filled with self-discipline and good judgment. When my 6 year old sister hit me or threw things at me or poked me or licked me or bit me, I should calmly say to her, "I don't like it when you do that." And then walk away.

Looking at it now, it seems like a sort of good skill.* But at 11? Think again.

Any woman who would expect me to hold my tongue in the face of a tyrannical six year old clearly was not my real mother.**

Hence, I found myself locked in the bathroom one afternoon screaming through the door at my mother, "If YOU WERE MY REAL MOTHER, YOU WOULDN'T TREAT ME THIS WAY!"

And my mother, being the quick thinker that she is, responded, "Well, maybe if you were my real daughter, you wouldn't treat me this way."

Gasp.

What? What did she just say?

Maybe a risky move, but it worked.

She's not my mother?! HA! We look exactly alike! Everyone knows she's my mother! My sister and I look exactly like! We all look exactly the same! She's so ridiculous. Good grief. (Because I didn't use profanity when I was 11. I was Holy.)

So after that I only complained that things were Unfair, which was not nearly as satisfying as complaining that I was adopted.

Which leads me to wonder - what will I blame for the bad days when law school is over?


*Although I'm still not entirely sold on it.
**I love you, little sister. :)

Tuesday Morning Pick-me-up

Go watch this.

Have kleenex ready. Don't worry - they're good tears.