My first entry was one I wrote in back in my first year of law school. This one is a little something I wrote in my third year of law school, and it's as short as the first is long. Maybe the length is a reflection of the time I had to myself, the time I had available to write and rant and lose myself in thoughts that were my own, not forced upon my mind by required readings and memorization.
...Or maybe not. :)
.o.O.o.
It's been ages since I last posted anything personal online - apart from the pictures every so often, that is. It could be argued that almost everything is personal, that everything you post reflects something about yourself, but what the hell. Anything can be argued, and I'm tired of arguing.
I'm tired of getting up at three or four in the morning, frantic, knowing I have piles of readings to go through before the day officially starts. I'm tired of feeling my heart speed up when the sunlight begins to peek through the blinds, letting me know that I only have so much time 'til I have to begin my morning routine. I'm tired of sitting through class, dreading the moment the professor calls my name. I'm tired of being told I'm wrong when I know that while I didn't give the best answer, I was right. I'm tired of being one of those who "take one for the team" while some only remember there's a team when they need somebody to take one for them.
I'm tired of feeling guilty when I read a book that isn't for school. Of feeling guilty when I sleep for more than six hours (or three, when there's a lot of work to be done), or when I spend the weekend trying to catch my breath. I'm tired of feeling guilty about wanting to stand in the middle of nowhere and just scream and scream and scream.
I'm tired of feeling tired and whiny, when I know so many others are having a worse time than I am, when others are working so much harder than I am.
Some days I sit there, in that bland, washed out room with bad acoustics, and listen to brilliant professors put us down and call us stupid - some outright, some with more finesse: "Hay naku, you're truly tabula rasa." I sit there, rein in my pride and watch the others do the same. Sit there, and imagine what it would be like if I got up and yelled, "We're not stupid, you just suck." I'd go down for sure, but then I'd go down With Style. Drama Queen, hanging on the vestiges of her pride. Or I could just get up and walk out. Quick, effective, dignified.
Other days I find myself sitting in the auditorium, staring up at the empty stage instead of answering the exam before me, wondering how the heck I got to where I was. Afraid that somewhere back there I made the wrong decision, afraid that it's too late to turn back, afraid that if I did turn back, I'd regret making that decision instead.
But then.
Some days I sit there, in that bland, washed out room with bad acoustics, smiling proudly as I listen to a professor praise my blockmate for a brilliant answer, the very same blockmate who, not more than a year before, used to stutter nervously whenever spoken to.
Other days I find myself laughing out loud as other blockmates manage to get away with snappy one-liners,* and sometimes even confuse the professor.** Sometimes I manage to surprise myself by getting away with a line or two as well.***
And then, on very rare days, I listen to a brilliant professor lecture. Then I watch as he leans back in his chair, smiles at us proudly and says, "Someday, you're going to do great things."
I sit there, listening to brilliant professors and idealistic blockmates, and I think, "Oh, right. That's why I'm here." Not because I know that someday I'll change the world, but because I know that I want to try, and this is one way that I can do that.
And so I laugh and smile and feel warm again.
------------
* Snappy one liners:
Professor: And you, sir, do you agree with her answer?
Blockmate: Sir, I'm afraid I have to disagree with the number one of our batch.
Professor: She's number one in your batch? I thought you were number one in your batch.
Blockmate: In my heart, sir, I am.
** Sometimes a blockmate can confuse the professor:
Professor: (calls blockmate's surname) All right. What is vicarious liability?
Blockmate: Ma'am, vicarious liability is... (explains) But ma'am, the term vicarious liability is actually incorrectly used, because what is actually spoken of is direct liability as regards the duty of the employer to exercise the diligence of a good father of a family in the selection and supervision of the employee. So you are, in fact, speaking not of the culpa of the employee, but the culpa of the employer.
Professor: Ah. Yes, but... that's what is commonly used.
Blockmate: Yes, ma'am, I know. I am merely suggesting that the usage is incorrect.
Professor: Yes, but the term direct liability is used to refer to something else.
Blockmate: Ha! Semantics.
Professor: (blinks) Okay. ...Moving on.
*** Sometimes I get away with things, too:
Professor: Do you consider this classroom a workplace? Do you consider coming to school work?
Me: No, sir.
Professor: Why not?
Me: Because we don't get paid.
end entry.
So glad that I can read your thoughts and your writing here. Keep blogging! :D
ReplyDelete