"In vacant or in pensive mood..." I am: Bekah; 24; Law Student / Favorite Things: Carbs (so there!), Johnny Damon, Smiling at babies, Grilled cheese, Comfortable silence / Favorite Supreme Court Justice: Brennan / Favorite Wilson: Owen by an inch / Today's Special: Song: Elliott Smith, "Bled White"; Quote: "You know, there's like a butt-load of gangs at this school. This one gang kept wanting me to join because I'm pretty good with a bowstaff." Please love me: mmbekah@yahoo.com

 
Welcome, Confused and Defenseless 1Ls! Welcome!

Ah, it's getting to be that time. The time when a new crop of law students will be entering the prestigious doors of law schools throughout the land. And what will be waiting for them? Not just scary professors and heavy books. Oh no. Something even more daunting lurks beyond every law school threshold: single 2 and 3Ls.

How do I know that single upperclassmen and women pose a threat? I am one of them. My friends and I have long been hatching schemes for "helping" the 1Ls. You see, when you've completely given up hope on your own classmates (in romantic terms, at least), there is nothing more intriguing than the novelty of the 1L class. Add to this the fact that every hapless 1L will be frightened, confused, and impressionable, and you've got yourself some seriously good odds. "Oh, you have Professor Demonheart for Torts? I had him too! He's [insert seemingly priceless tidbits about teaching and exam style], and I will be happy to give you [commercial outlines, my personal outline, one on one tutorials, ego-boosting peptalks, home-cooked meals, monetary compensation]..."

You see, 2 and 3Ls aren't bad people. We simply do what we've been trained to do. We "think like lawyers." We know that 1L year is a difficult time. We know that 1Ls are looking for assistance during that difficult time. And we know that the best relationships are based on fear and dependency. Thus, we have used our deductive reasoning to conclude that 1Ls are fair game, and we're all (admit it) ready to pounce.

So look out, darling 1Ls. Be on your guard. Countless Mrs. Robinsons are hiding in the guises of "tutor" and "mentor," and yes, they are trying to seduce you.

Um...Ahoy?

So, I wasn't going to say anything, but I just can't resist. There is a pirate at my Starbucks. He wears a patch and has multiple maritime tattoos. He has long hair. He does not have a parrot, but he does wear a baseball hat. He does not have a hook. He may or may not have a peg leg. He may or may not say "argh" and "matee." He does yawn extremely obtrusively, and he does make a scene if his coffee is not to his liking. I enjoy him immensely, and I'm thankful for his daily pirate presence. I hope he is not scheduled to set sail any time soon.

Some Uncharacteristic Meta Talk

I don't really understand fancy html things, but I'm gradually learning how to link (and starting to read other blogs with more diligence), and I would like to try to link to more law school people when I get a chance. I'm kind of hesitant to get too involved in the law school blog circles because I don't always write about law school, and I don't want to disappoint people who think that's what they'll always hear about if they read my blog. Not to mention the fact that if I wrote about law school all the time I would shrivel up and die. I mostly write this blog to have something other than law school to do. Also, in response to a couple of inquiries, I don't have comments because a) I don't want my friends writing personal crap on this thing (you crazy bastards!), and b) I want to be personally responsible for everything written on this site. So sorry. I write this blog, and you don't, so you will listen to every damn word I have to say! (That's a movie quote, by the way. I'm not actually being mean. I love you!)

Also, I don't know how to do cool things like link to a specific post on another site, so I'm sorry if I don't always link as directly as I should. I added a few new blogs to my law school list today for specific reasons: Liable was very sweet and congratulated me on law review, and her blog has super cool links; Left Coast Expat made a brilliant Happy Gilmore allusion (one which (I swear) I too thought about when I saw Jesus and the girly golfer), and he's listening to The Shins (joy!); and Ambivalent Imbroglio complemented my blog's name and gave me some wonderful and much-needed "you don't really want a puppy right now" advice. As I become more blog-aware, I will try to continue to link to more law students. And now, I'm off to find the pirate and see if he needs a first mate!

posted by Bekah at 5:01 PM :: |

 
Put This in Your Cigar and Smoke it

I've read Freud's On Dreams. I know what his eminence has to say about stairways and death and cucumbers. But last night's dream goes way beyond phallic vegetables.

The first thing I remember is that a transvestite in a purple leotard and a Boy George shirt was teaching me how to do gymnastics. I was supposed to do a handspring on the vault, but the transvestite insisted that the vault be only 5 feet away from the wall. I refused to take a running jump at such a dangerous distance, and everyone in my class was mercilessly goading me ("Just answer the question, Claire...go on, answer the question!"). I ended up attempting the jump for what felt like hours. Finally I flipped over, landed on my ass, and the fall knocked me unconscious. When I woke up, I was at a bar celebrating Halloween in the pouring rain. Except this was Naked Halloween (scary!) and I was the only one who wasn't naked. Thus, more goading. Finally, a nice boy who was also clothed came over and started chatting with me and a few other people. I decided that he was pretty cool, and I thought that maybe there were some nice boys out there after all. Shortly thereafter I found out that he was actually a girl.

Um. I'm a disturbed person. Here's my take on the dream--although I'm obviously open to suggestions. The vaulting scenario represents my hesitance to take chances academically and emotionally, for fear of landing on my ass. In the dream, my fears were realized. The transvestite in the Boy George shirt is almost certainly a reincarnation of George, Adam Sandler's backup singer in The Wedding Singer, which I watched several weeks ago. I do not think the transvestite has significance beyond that, but I could be wrong. Perhaps the significance is that this transvestite was so obvious and garish in comparison to the one I met later in the dream. Which brings me to the naked part. In the dream, it was not as if I refused to be naked; I don't remember having a choice in the matter. I was basically forced to be an outsider. This represents my various inhibitions and insecurities, although, interestingly, it seems that the point would have been better made if I was the only naked one and everyone else was clothed. Stupid subconscious, get it right. And finally, my experience with the boy-who-turned-out-to-be-a-girl. I am certain that this represents my dissatisfaction with men in general. Freud may say that it's my anxiety about homosexuality--or some sort of personal fear of it lurking beneath the surface--except that Freud didn't believe that women had any sort of sexuality at all, so he probably wouldn't think much of it. I actually think it stems from a discussion I had yesterday about Gigli and how it's supposed to be really bad for lots of reasons, not the least of which being the premise that a lesbian (JLo) "changes" for a straight man (Affleck).

Just a general note about dreaming: I always dream in the third person. I'm never actually myself in a dream; instead, I am watching myself as if I'm the main character in a movie. I once read that this is how children dream until about the age of 10, when their "senses of self" become developed enough to dream in the first person. Right. I'm just a little bit of a late bloomer, I guess.

Update: Mel says, "I feel that the part about you being dressed represents the fact that you are kind of above the follies of the pick up scene." I like that. She also thinks I'm brave for sharing this dream, but please--my subconscious is no weirder than anyone elses. Admit it, we all have dreams with transvestites and purple leotards sometimes...don't we?

posted by Bekah at 10:57 AM :: |

 
Big News

I had already given up and admitted defeat. I was really OK with it too; it was strangely liberating to be able to keep my "law school sucks" attitude, cooly dismissing it as something I just wasn't made for. "It's just not my thing," I would tell people. And I did (and do) feel that way much of the time. But I also knew that I was using those comments to shield my already bruised ego from more damage than a bunch of B's could do. If I could say that I was good at other things, I could ease the pain of not being good at law school. And I could denounce those who did succeed in law school as bad people, or boring people, or people I wasn't interested in associating with.

And then, I did something really confusing. I wrote on to Law Review.

Of course I am incredibly excited and validated. Of course I am thrilled to be able to say, "See, I may not make the best grades, but I can do this! I can write a case note!" But I am also nervous. I am apprehensive about having to prove myself, and having to produce so much legal material. Honestly, I'm scared of the law. But it's time for me to stop thinking about law school as an outsider. I am in this thing. And I have a lot of work to do.

posted by Bekah at 10:25 AM :: |

 
Doodeedoo...Monday morning...Westlaw research...Lexis research...Starbucks research (peoplewatching)...

Wait, what's that? What did you say, Owen and Luke Wilson? Did you say that you are both madly in love with me, and are in serious danger of killing each other over me? Did you just say that the only three solutions you can think of would be for me to marry Owen and be Luke's mistress, marry Luke and be Owen's mistress, or move to Utah so I can marry both of you? Did you say you wanted to do that right now? That you were coming to Starbucks to pick me up in your private jets? That you're racing, and the jet that gets here first will be carrying the one I am going to marry? Oh my, how exciting! You know, it really is so very silly for you two to fight over me since I adore you both, but I suppose I'll allow this filial competition, since it can only end well. Well hurry along now, I can't stay here forever....

Sigh.

posted by Bekah at 11:07 AM :: |