Back to School

Outfit: Dress: Fossil; Flats: Old Navy; Earrings: NY&Company

Obviously, I’m not conscientious enough about updates to be a blogger worth her salt. I’ll blame this on the mind-numbingly boring law orientation I attended, as well as jaunting home to see my best friend from forever this weekend.

Law school started out as a whim for me; I had won a scholarship from a public university to get my master’s in ESL and be a teacher. Luckily, spending a summer as a camp counselor for underprivileged kids showed me there is not a job I’m less suited to, except for maybe lumberjack or deep sea crab fisherman, and so I freaked out and took the LSAT at the recommendation of one of my best friends (and we ended up taking the test together and going to the same school, which is a story for another day). I took it twice, made it my bitch (ha!) the second time around, and started applying to schools all over the country.

But the point of this entry is that perhaps this will morph into a law/fashion blog, mainly because I get peeved with the random (often unsolicited) advice and stories I receive from all over the board. I’ve had people tell me they’re oh-so-sorry I’m going to law school; that it will be the most horrible three years of my life; that most of my relationships will emerge in tatters, if at all. I’ve had other students tell me there are days when I won’t have time to shower; that I won’t be able to enjoy novels again, because my mind will be too analytical for fiction; that I’ll spend every waking moment in the library, subsisting on vending machine food and Mountain Dew.

And maybe I will. Maybe all those things are (God forbid) true. But I feel like a lot of them are exaggerations, and I’d like to tell it how it is here, so that poor future 1Ls have one positive, realistic view to compare against the countless law blogs lamenting the horrors of law school. I feel dedicated to maintaining a balance—working hard but still making time for the people I love; keeping up with my favorite authors and still knocking out Wuthering Heights once a year; and occasionally showering.

(However, if you should see me frantically scurrying toward the library, clothed in sweats and clutching Gardettos and my contracts book, you don’t need to say "I told you so.")