Addicted to the Toy Machine

Officially started work today. Its the usual bit: a lot of discovery, mind-numbing, long-hours, hate the client for not knowing how to respond to simple interrogatory questions regarding their own case, whack your head into the computer screen as you grapple with whether you should cut or paste this or that response and what your boss will do when he realizes how truly incompetent you really are.

I took off to a local Thai place for lunch. Got charged 17 dollars for high Beverly Hills class but mediocre tasting food. Later, when I was ready to quit my job around 6PM, I took the remnants out of the freezer and ate them cold. (Surprisingly, Asian food acquires a better taste when its been chilled.)

So what do I do when I'm bummed? I visit an arcade. Seriously. There is something about the street fighter games, the table hockey and the toy house machines that just lets me let loose and yell and vent. This time, I walked in innocently thinking I'd make 20 dollars worth of change for my bus pass for the next few weeks. Of course, once I caught a look at the yellow Donald Ducks, I should have known better and left.

I have this terrible addiction to the toyhouse machines. I will stand there and put in quarter after quarter to get my prize. I will not change my mind about which toy I want so I tend to stick to grabbing the same prize no matter how hopeless it looks.

The terrible thing about it all is that usually what hooks me is that I actually manage to pick up the toy and it gets dragged to the very rim of the drop box. And then I spend about 5 dollars trying to get it over the rim!

The last time I tried it, I didn't my elephant. Even the wait staff at Norms was begging me to stop after I had to change a 20 to get more quarters to continue to crazed attempt at getting my elephant. (Such a cute elephant too.)

This time it was a Donald Duck in light yellow. I spent around 5 dollars and after many screams of exasperation as I struggled with the horrible claws that hold and release, I finally got my toy. The manager, who'd been laughing the whole time, came over and asked me if I wanted to exchange it for Daisy, Donald's girlfriend. "No!" I replied, "I fought for this one!"

Growing Pains

So the weeks of hell are over. (Well semi-over, still have a paper due but when did that cause the kind of alarm that an exam does? Exactly.)

A group of us studied day in and night out in the classrooms, much to the dismay of some of the facilities management.We had coffee to keep us going until 3 A.M. every night. And we usually stayed in school long past the time most of the crowds were gone. None of us were in the same classes, and I have to say to some degree, it helped.

People change during finals. Some will avoid people and hoard information on the assumption that you have to do everything you can to beat the curve. Some will stand outside the lounge laughing and moaning away each final giving full recount of the horrid details of their last exam. Others post delirious messages on the public black board like: "Lost: Hope. Last seen Fall 2007."

Its quite the mad house.

No thanks can be extended to the Dean this year who disappointed the heck out of the 2L and 3L classes by not putting out the much comforting tea, coffee and pastries selection that most of us flock to before our early exams.

2L and 3Ls get their exams earlier in the week, later in the week, and never ever get afternoon exams. I suppose the theory is that the 1Ls need all the time they can get and when I remember last year, I absolutely agree with the proposition.

However, when they only put out pastries on the days 1Ls were taking exams, coincidentally not the days most 2L and 3Ls took their own exams, I started to feel like the older child who is suddenly not so happy with the prospect of no longer being the spoiled baby of the family: very cranky.

And you know when that last exam is over, you feel this tremendous weight lift off your shoulders. But like all trained animals, you scurry around the corners of the room afraid you will be trapped again and not sure of what to do with yourself and your new found freedom.

Every time I turned the messenger or the TV on, I felt guilty! After weeks of mentally straining to keep away from all my junkie addictions, the thought of suddenly being able to indulge excessively in them just seemed wrong.

So now I have a week off before I start work, in which I am presumptively supposed to work on this paper and get it done a week ahead of schedule. I have no idea whether I will be faithful to the plan, the rebel in me is already yearning to go to Venice and Santa Monica and eat all kinds of delicious things with the girls....but we'll see, I may be a trained animal yet.

Finals

Things I should not be doing during finals:

• blogging
• sleeping in late
• chatting on gmail
• shopping
• spending money eating out
• drinking lots of Rockstars
• picking up calls
• checking email

What I have been doing this week:

• blogging
• sleeping in late
• chatting on gmail
• shopping
• spending money eating out
• drinking lots of Rockstars
• picking up calls
• checking email

Alright, alright settle down. I've been putting in 12-14 hard hours of studying a day. (I leave school to go sleep at 2 or 3AM.) Its amazing I've managed to sneak in all these delicious goodies into my week. Usually, I turn the Internet and the cell phone off and study a good 10 hours before I discreetly log on to check email, chat and meter out information/work/instructions without my study buddy noticing. (Every time she catches me she yells "Mademoiselle you will regret this!" inevitably causing me an instant panic and guilt attack that gets me off the Internet for another 4 hours.)

Of course, the Rockstars aren't helping much. I slip a straw into a 20 oz. can and sip the stuff as I am typing/reading. It tastes horrible but in a medicinal way which makes me feel that I am feeding my body energy as brain cells are dying by the thousands in my head from so much brain effort. (10 hours without a distraction!? It hurts I tell you.)

Alright, back to the grind.

It's been awhile..

I know. I'm sorry. Find that I have been apologizing too much these past few days. And you know what I realized? It's one thing to apologize when you are wrong but it's quite another to apologize when you've done nothing wrong.

At first, you are shocked. Then you are indignant. You become angry. Then, you realize how futile being angry can be. Finally, you resign yourself and accept it.

Accept what Mademoiselle?

Accept that you are the product of years of your parents, of hiding under the covers reading a book late into the night, of arguing with professors over theories and laughing soon afterwards, that you are a terrible dancer and have one too many a time chosen the wrong thing to wear, that you will think what you will think and do what you wish, that you strike a hard bargain, that you don't always smile as often as you should, that your tendency is to be exacting and focused, that you will never patronize and tell someone that something is good when it is not, that you will stand by your opinions until they are proven wrong, and most importantly that:

there is nothing wrong with that.

At some point, you have to let go of all the tiny threads that hold you back and just be unashamed, unabashedly content with who you are and how you got there.

That there will be voices at your ear that will make you feel that you are arrogant when you are confident, that you are controlling when you are hard-working, that you are patronizing when you offer well-intentioned advice, that you are stupid when you are silly, that you are not meeting their expectations when you are fighting to meet your own, that at this level you shouldn't act so childishly when you are laughing until your out of air, that you should be meeker because it looks arrogant to stare someone in the face...

yes, they will always be there.

But at the end of the day, its up to you to search your heart privately and measure the weight of the voices at your side to the actions you have undertaken. If the voices speak truth, then you work to change those things that are lacking in you. Thank the persons who sought you out to help you. Because in those cases, those voices are inspired by love and concern for your well-being.

And if they are not, smile and move on. Life is too short to be spent trying to convince others that you are not what they think you are. Time and your actions prove everything and not a single second of your anguish, your frustration, and the pain of being misunderstood will alleviate it.

So revel in your strenghts and think honestly about your faults. But never ever let voices get you down. Give them their proper weight. If they are meant to help, store them away and revisit them when you encounter similar problems. If they are meant to bring your spirit down, trash them.

Alright, public service announcement over. ;)

Overheard in the Law School Corridor

One 2L summer associate admitted to using spring break to get her boobies done. Well we know were the summer cash went...Though I hear its getting cheaper and cheaper. LA 1st year associate anyone?

Pee-Ew (Or however It's spelled.)

To add to the misery of losing my home, today the entire law school smelled like poo. That's right: poo.

Of all the possible and most symbolically appropiate things that could happen at a law school,this is by far the winner. Rotting smell anyone? Stench of death permeating your halls? Slimy goo? Stinky winky?

No, its just the lovely scent of law students. Yep.

Library Woes

When did the 4th floor become the social event of the season for first years and LLMs? The 4th floor of the library was the last vestige of peace and quiet in the turbulent world of law school but now thanks to the onslaught of people, its abuzz with loudly whispered conversations and too many pages turning all at once. For a girl who was just trying to get a nap in, its the saddest thing that ever happened to the 4th floor. Give me back my floor!