Journal Entries Circa 2005, Part Uno

I began purging my room of all things unnecessary today.  I am a weirdo and kept all my notes from every single class I ever took in college.  The above picture contains the flash cards I made for the whole semester for one class that I totally aced (I set the curve for both tests).  As I was sifting through these notes before throwing them out since I haven't touched them since 2005, and came across this gem from my Psychological Aspects of Death and Dying  course.  

The assignment was to write in a journal, identifying events in a day for which we were grateful and also recognizing character strengths.  This is now five years ago at 22, so it was interesting to see where I was then.  I felt compelled to re-type my entries and share them here:

April 12, 2005

I felt a general sense of prudence today.  I gave a 20-minute presentation in my History of Psychology class.  I was very nervous about it and I worked on it all weekend.  I turned down many plans to go out with friends because I knew I needed to organize my thoughts and get a good grade on it.  I've been turning down fun opportunities all semester, so it's getting harder to say no.

Not only did I work on this presentation all weekend, I studied for two weekends in a row for the test in the same class.  After my presentation, I went to my professor's office with some fellow classmates, and I discovered that I set the curve for the grade again.  I got the highest grade in both tests so far.  I really didn't think it would happen twice.  I finally felt like my intense effort and constant hibernation while studying paid off.  I definitely felt like my effort paid off even more later in the the afternoon when I visited my professor's office hours.

Earlier while my classmates and I had checked out grades, they had mentioned that out 12-page writing assignment was optional.  I already had all my research done and 20 books about Darwin in my room ready for me to scour through over the weekend.  I wanted to hear it from my professor's mouth that I did not have to write the paper.  I asked him his grading policy, and he informed me that he took our two highest test grades and our writing assignment grade and uses the two highest grades.  Obviously, it is impossible to improve my grade when I have the two highest grades in the class.  I was ecstatic!  Unknowingly, my self-regulation saved me from having to write the paper.

Self-regulation is central to my success this semester.  While pursuing a career in law, I realized that I needed to attain a 4.0 GPA (or strikingly close) to boost my chances of getting into my school of choice. I told myself repeatedly that I needed to really buckle down to study and not see my friends as much as I wanted.  This is the most I've regimented my study habits in my life.

Today I also felt a sense of perspective.  I overheard my roommate on the phone telling her friend that her heart felt funny after having a huge anxiety attack.  I immediately knew what she was feeling.  After she ended the call, I said, "I couldn't help but overhear that you had an anxiety attack and that your heart feels weird.  I've had anxiety for two years and I feel the same thing.  I've been there too.  I just wanted to tell you because I wish someone would have told me that when I first started getting anxiety attacks."  It felt really nice to help comfort someone with the peculiarities of anxiety because I've learned how to deal with them over the last two years.  By talking to her, I felt she really sensed my genuine kindness.  We normally don't talk that much, but I couldn't ignore her confusion when I knew I could say a few kind words to comfort her.

Gratitude:  Today I'm grateful for the opportunity my family gives me to attend school without the stress of working.  Without this luxury, I probably would not have been as successful this semester.  I'm also grateful for the discipline I learned from my dance teacher.  Without it, I would not have been able to turn down offers to go out with my friends.

There are other entries, but it's ridiculously late.  Monday always comes so quickly.  

Midge Squared!

We have a new-to-us dog!  This wouldn't be the first dog we inherited, nor will it be the last!  She's so cute!  And.........her name is MIDGE!  Just like me!  :)  The really weird thing is that my sister picked her as a puppy (she's a Terrier and Yorkie mix) and yet she looks exactly like my step-dad's dog Bear!  Bear was the first dog I'd ever had as a pet, and he was the best.  You could point your hand in a gun shape at him and yell, "BANG!' and he'd roll over and play dead.  He rarely barked.  He opened his own Christmas presents.  He even smiled.  When Midge was hanging out next to me today I just couldn't take my eyes off her because I felt like I was looking at Bear.  The image is so spitting that I cried.  I'm so excited for this new addition to our family.  I'm still curious how she and Chloe (our cat) AKA Ravioli will get along.  Chloe has not met a dog she has liked so far.

We recently rescued Chloe from a purebred shelter after the loss of my cat, Cuddles.

I picked her from her litter when I was 8 and she was a newborn.  She developed cancer in February and we put her down in April.  She was 18.  It was the first time in 18 years we had zero animals in our house, and it was bizarre.

My mom was set on getting an Exotic Shorthair and I was set on getting a rescue and not paying for a purebred.  I took to the interweb of tubes and found a website that rescues purebreds!  Ta da!  I found that this organization had recently rescued 99 Exotics and Persians from a hoarding situation.  She was very skiddish at first, but she had really blossomed here.

I'm sure she'll adapt and she and Midge will be BFF in no time  :)

The Rules of Dating According to Me

The term "dating" is such a misnomer.  "Dating" denotes simplistic get-togethers between two people interested in getting to know one another in various public or PG private settings.  When my mom was young, she had to accompany my aunt on dates or else my grandpa would not let my aunt leave the house.  What happened to these simple times?  Um, yeah, 1955 called and left a message that it's appalled at the state of dating these days.

Look, boys and girls, it's not that hard.  Finding a mate isn't rocket science.  Not only is it about luck, chemistry, fate, timing, or in juxtaposition, even pointed calculated effort, it's about being a decent human being.  Bottom line.

In this vein, I've had some thoughts percolating in my currently underutilized cerebral cortex and I've articulated a few rules that I think are basic tools for anyone trying to find one's soulmate.  "Here's a little bit of old school for ya, and it goes a little something like this. . . "  (One billion points to the first person who can name that song.  It will likely be one of four people whom I know that know this song who may or may not possess a vagina.)

Rule Numero Uno:  Be Honest.

For real.  Like, super serial.  Just be up front.  Dating these days is so complicated because of people's ulterior motives.  Some people are married or in a relationship and still date without your knowledge of their attached status.  This is disgusting, by the way.  

Just the other night I was out with my friends for a birthday celebration and we were approached by a man clearly wearing a wedding ring.  Not only did he initiate the flirting by complimenting me on my height, he proceeded to flirt with us for a solid 5 minutes before asking, "So who's married?"  To this inquiry I responded, "You," and he then proceeded to act as if his friend was his husband.  Hiding something, buddy?  I'm not saying that if you are married you have to live in a box and not converse with humans other than your spouse.  What I am saying is that you should not attempt to talk to others as if you are interested in attending the party in their pants.  If you are or have been guilty of this, consider yourself on notice.  If you are currently doing this, please divorce and/or break up with all other parties involved and lead a life of celibacy for, approximately, ever.  And consider therapy.  

If you are just looking for sex, then communicate this.  You shouldn't have to lie to get what you want in life.  That's my belief, anyway.  If you do so, you just might find someone else out there who is looking for exactly what you want.  Just don't settle until you find such a person even if it's just for sex.

If you are like one of my exes, and you are looking for someone to be barefoot in the kitchen making you pies and cleaning your house, then say so up front.  (Um, 1955 called again and it wants its stereotypical housewife back!  Eugh!  So.  Not.  Me.)  Particular tastes require particular people to fill those needs and thus need to be communicated.

Rule Numero Dos:  Technology is your foe.

Swapping texts all day long does not equal a date, folks.  Nor does talking about a date over the phone.  Man up and take your object of desire somewhere in person!

Why are people so much more honest in a text?  Texting and dating do not mix.  All the fun aspects of getting to know someone are lost on a screen illuminated by a satellite transmission.  You can't hear inflection, sarcasm or laughter in your inbox on your mobile device.  Oh yeah, and don't break up with someone via text.  It sucks.  Karma will kick your ass if you do so, regardless of whether you believe in it.

Oh, Facebook.  While there are a multitude of social networking sites, I think Facebook really has virtual stalking on lockdown.  I've not encountered a problem with stalking to date.  I'm pretty protective of whom I allow to see my profile.  Not only am I attempting to become a lawyer and am concerned about employers and the State Bar of California seeing what I do, I am also a fan of my civil liberties and enjoy my right to privacy and freedom of speech.  However, if you are a compulsive Facebooker like myself, you could potentially run into serious problems, especially with this new Places feature.  The site allows you to "check in" by posting your geographical coordinates via Google maps.  I am enjoying the novelty of this feature and get a thrill when I click on my current location.  Yes, I am a nerd.  Deal with it. I am curious to see how this feature plays out in courtrooms across the nation when people use Facebook to up their stalking game.  

One of my bffs, Partner in Crime (hereinafter PIC), ran into a problem with Facebook and the object of her affection.  She's known this guy forever, so clearly they are "friends" on Facebook (and if it's on Facebook, it has to be true, right?).  She saw that he had a birthday party and didn't invite her.  Ouch.  There's way more back story to this, but for her privacy, I will keep the reader informed on a need-to-know basis.  But that information smacked her around a little.  She now knows more than she cared to know because of his Facebook post.  While there are many factors to her situation, the bottom line is that Facebook can be dangerous so don't add anyone you wouldn't trust with personal information.  

Rule Numero Tres:  Know thyself.  

How can you know what you want in another person if you don't know what you need?  I understand that there are varying levels of self-awareness in the pool of singles, which is fine.  If you want to live in the dark, be my guest.  I'll just figure you out and then want nothing to do with you because that's not a fun situation for me.  I am not perfect, but I make an effort to evaluate the state of my personality and my weaknesses and work on them.  I also make an effort to find at least one quality I require from a partner when I break up with someone.  For example, I've dated several non-awesome people, and now I've realized I need someone awesome.  I had an ex who is probably one of the most selfish people I've ever met, and so now I know I want someone who is capable of putting the needs of others before his own.  I know that while I'm laid back about some things, I can be downright neurotic about others and I know I need someone who is laid back and calm all the time to balance out my neuroses. 

Rule Numero Quatro:  Don't sweat it.

For a long time, I thought that because I didn't have a boyfriend that I was not desirable.  This was mostly while in law school because, let's face it, law school induces depression and anxiety in the most stable of individuals.  I think it was a lack of confidence as well, at least inwardly.  BTDub, a lack of self-esteem and confidence is a sure-fire way to repel potential suitors.  Who wants to hang out with someone who doesn't even think they are awesome?  This leads logically to my point:  Why would you want to hang out with someone who doesn't think you are awesome?!  Just move on and find someone else.  You might be thinking, "Geez, don't you have feelings?"  Of course I do.  Do I get bummed when someone I thought was interested in me turns out to be uninterested?  Totally!  I'm awesome, so it sucks when someone doesn't agree with me.  But this is no cause to think you are any less awesome because someone doesn't agree with you.  It's awesomely simple.

These are just a few things I've noticed lately.  I hereby reserve the right to edit and alter the aforementioned Rules at any time upon due diligence and sufficient consideration of any further alarming dating trends.  

Letter to Myself at 22

This is me at 27 years, and 1 month old.  So far, so good.  I like 27. Twenty-seven is my lucky number!  It's also my golden birthday this year.  (You know, you turn the age of your date of birth.  My birthday is July 27, so hence 27 on the 27th).  

Today is actually one of my long-time friend's birthday (Happy Birthday, Dani!) and I awoke to one of the best presents she could give me on her own birthday in my inbox.  It was a picture of me at 22 that really made me stop and think of all that has occurred in my life in those 5 years and how much has changed.  I had the sudden urge to want to tell that bright-eyed, rosy cheeked past version of myself how it would all be okay and to help calm her fears of the future.  My thoughts went a little something like this:

Dear Me,

I know you might feel like an idiot right now, but cheer up buttercup! Life is going to get so much better for you!  Or at least your life will one day be better because of the things that will soon happen to you.  You know all those nights in the Dungeon studying and missing out on fun stuff with your friends?  They will pay off!  I hate to break it to you, but soon you're going to move somewhere far away from your life that you've established for the last 22 years.  And you won't enjoy it as much as you thought you might.  And, uh, law school kinda blows too.  

But there are totally a bunch of awesome things you find out about yourself!  Totes!  You know how I said you'd hate law school and Miami and all that stuff?  Well, it turns out that you're one tough chick and are strong enough to weather that blustering storm that most of your experience turns out to be.  

You know what else?  Despite how you feel at the moment in this picture, you are one smart cookie!  I know we doubted it all those years, but law school will really whip your mind into shape and give you the confidence to utilize this one of many genetic gifts that you possess!  It takes about two years for you to figure it out and BELIEVE it, but it will happen soon enough  :)  

I'll leave some mystery to the next 5 years of your life, but you should go visit Grandma and Grandpa more often.  You already know they won't live forever.  

Oh, and one last thing.  Continue to buy Crest with Baking Soda and Peroxide and say, "YES!" when someone suggests you buy Crest Whitestrips at Costco on that trip in Miami.  Even though you don't use them for very long, they get 'er done.  Avoid red lipstick until this occurs.  

Enjoy the next five years, Jessica at Twenty-Two!

"You'd Make a Lovely Cocaine Dealer"

So, at my current place of employment, there are two floors, and there are about 100 employees who roam around during the day.  Needless to say, there are some interesting folk.  As the receptionist, I happen to see most of these people on a daily basis, some more often than I'd care to.  One colleague in particular happens to have the most off-the-wall sense of humor I've encountered in a work setting.  Wait, did I mention that he's really good looking?  Like, he-looks-like-Matt-Damon-good-looking?

I should preface these little gold nuggets of wisdom with the fact that I only run into Matt Damon Look-alike if he brings his milkshake to the reception yard or if we are both in the lunch room together.

These conversations speak for themselves.  You're welcome.  Behold:

Scene 1: Matt Damon-Look-alike (hereinafter MDL) appears before me at reception while I'm still studying for the bar exam at work.  (God, I love this place.)


MDL:   "How's the studying going?" (Everyone apparently caught wind of the fact that the receptionist had a law degree. I told a few people and found out how quickly intraoffice instant messenger creates rumors. I actually happened to tell him personally, however. Some people took a real interest in it and were very sweet about it, including him.)

Me:       "Alright, just trying to read as much as possible."

MDL:   "The test is about memorization, right?  You should try that ginko biloba stuff."

Me:       "Well, the memorization isn't the hard part, it's just trying to find the time."

MDL:   "Or you could try cocaine?"

Me:      I smile sarcastically.  "That's an excellent suggestion, I'll try that."

MDL walks away pleased with himself.




Scene 2: MDL appears before me at reception.  I pretend to act non-chalant.  You'll see why.

MDL:  "So, how's it going?"

Me:      "Good."

MDL:   "You glad to be done with the test?

Me:       "Very!  Except that now I don't know what to do with my life."

MDL:    Pauses briefly for thought.  "You should take the MCATs, that test to get into medical school?"

Me:       "Nah, I already have enough debt as it is however awesome it would be to be both a lawyer and a doctor."

MDL:   "No, not to actually go to medical school--" (I have a bad habit of interrupting.  Note to self:  work on that!)

Me:       "--oh, to just take the test?"

MDL:   "Yeah, you should just take every standardized test there is!"

Me:       "That's a horrible really good idea."

MDL:   "Or!  You could get a truck driving license and haul 10 ton gasoline tankers and have a barbeque on the back!"

Me:      "You know, if this law thing doesn't pan out, I should look into that.  Maybe the hazard pay will pay off my student loans faster than working at McDonalds."

That's all I remember from that conversation.  I think it ended in awkward laughter and hurried footsteps down the hall.


Scene 3:  I feel the urge to say, "Hi," to MDL at his cubicle and feign poor cell reception in an effort to cleverly disguise said urge.


Me:  "Oh, so this is where you sit!  Wait, you sit here alone?  Why isn't anyone else in these cubes?"

MDL:  "Every time someone sits near me they mysteriously leave.  Be careful over here, you might get fired if you're here too long."

Me:     "I'm a temp, I'm leaving anyway."

MDL:  "Well, just be careful."

Me:  Noticing a suitcase next to him. "You going somewhere?"

MDL:  "Yeah, I'm going to a wedding and then to Texas for work."

Me:  "Oh, I'm jealous!  I've always wanted to go to Texas!"

MDL:  Examines state of black, beaten up suitcase.  "Look at this thing, it's so beat up, the zippers are all gone.  I borrowed it from my gir--- a girl who used to be my girlfriend."

Me:  Trying to hide my shock at awkward moment.  "That's nice of her."

MDL:  "I use it more than she does.  I should just buy it off her!  You know, you should never let me borrow your luggage."

Me:  "Mine's pink.  I don't know that you'd want to."

MDL:  "It would be easy to spot."

Me:  "It is quite helpful at baggage claim."

MDL:  "So, how's the studying going? (Again, a very common question during those two months.)

Me:  "Well, I get two weeks off starting Monday and I'm really starting to feel the heat!  I'm commuting and it's really hard to get all the studying in that I need, so I basically live with my face shoved in that giant book I'm always reading."

MDL:  "You know, you should get out, take a walk, change gears for a while.  That helps me when I'm stressed.  Or there's always cocaine."

Me:  "I have absolutely not considered this option.  Except that I don't know where to get it."

MDL:  "I could always put you in contact with one of my dealers.  I know a few people here.  America's Sweetheart is one of them.  (Sidebar:  America's Sweetheart is one of our co-workers who happens to be one of the nicest people you'll ever meet.  She's always putting others first.)

Me:  Distracted momentarily by America's Sweetheart's hubby walking down the hall.  (Yes, America's Sweetheart and her husband are both employed at the same place.  As the same occupation.  It's like eating an entire chocolate bar and falling into a diabetic coma it's so sweet. )  "....as Mr. America's Sweetheart walks by...."  

MDL:  Eyes Mr. Sweetheart as well and beckons him over to his cubicle as I inwardly wince in anticipation of the following conversation.  "Mr. Sweetheart, wouldn't you say that your wife would be the top of the list of people who would be least likely to sell drugs?"

Mr. S:  Appears dumbfounded and at a total loss for words.  He recovers slowly.  "You mean would she be the first person you'd go to to buy drugs?"

MDL:  "Just the opposite.  Wouldn't she be at the top of the list of people least likely to sell drugs?  I mean, she's like the nicest woman in the world."

Mr. S.:  Finally catches on.  "Well, what kind of drugs?"

MDL:  "Cocaine."

Mr. S:  "Mmm I don't know about cocaine, but maybe marijuana.  She'd probably be the one to make sure everyone else was having a good high and that they had enough munchies."


Not only did this conversation truly occur, but it occurred on two other similar occasions within a three week span.  It may or may not have involved America's Sweetheart herself.  Hey, at least he keeps us on our toes!

Receptionist, J.D.

As with all recent graduates at any level, but probably more specifically at the college level, there is a certain culture shock that comes with finishing one's education.  For several (seven and a half) years, I dedicated my life to making my brain sharper, honing my lawyering skills, increasing my earning capacity, all for the goal of making this world a better place.  My bedroom in college was lovingly refered to as The Dungeon because I gave up so many evenings and weekends burning the midnight oil so that I could get sufficient grades for law school admittance.  Luckily, this trick worked.  So when I returned home from my lavish European vacay my last summer of law school in July 2009, I thought it would take a couple of months to find some sort of employment.  I knew the state of the job front was horrid but I was prepared, or so I thought.

With the knowledge that I was embarking on my endeavor to pass the bar exam in February 2010 and would need to start studying January 1 (okay, January 2), 2010, I had a hard time figuring out what type of job I should be looking for.  I can hear you asking now:  "But Jess, didn't you take out a loan the size of a mortgage for a mansion on the rolling plains of Kansas in order to learn how to be a lawyer?  Shouldn't you be looking for a LEGAL job?"  Well my friends, you would be correct in your line of questioning (court room reference not intended), however I only have a law degree.  Which, apparently, is insufficient these days. . . overly sufficient is more accurate.

I read an article in some legal publication noting how law firms who promised employment to their superstar summer associates upon graduation from law school were postponing their start dates for at least a year.  365 days.  A whole rotation around the sun.  It's not like receiving an education qualifies you for unemployment!  That's an eternity to wait to begin your legal career.  I was not offered employment (although I am a superstar), but from this article all signs from my awesome powers of deduction are pointing out that I ain't getting a job as a law clerk.  This is what I would normally expect to do upon graduation were this a normal economy. 

As I'm scouring Craigslist and Monster, I'm quickly realizing that all notions of beginning a career as a Legal Secretary are out of the question as well.  Sure, I am familiar with interrogatories, requests for production of documents, appellate briefs and how to format them because I WROTE THEM IN LAW SCHOOL.  But do I have 3-5 years experience doing this?  Not a chance.  My dreams of being someone's personal assistant are shattered.

I'm also realizing that I can't even become a paralegal because I need a CERTIFICATE for something I'm already very capable of doing because I WENT TO LAW SCHOOL.  Paralegals are fake, baby lawyers who do more grunt work like call for couriers to file pleadings at the courthouse, schedule motion dates and possess a far more cursory knowledge of the law because they didn't go to law school.  However, the level of knowledge of the paralegal is dependent upon how stupid the paralegal is to begin with.  But such is life, and also an excellent reason why I'd be a far superior paralegal than most paralegals.  I digress. 

So what do I do with this newfound knowledge?  Immediately begin filing out 45 applications to Starbucks. Turns out I'm not a desirable barista either, despite my daily Skinny Vanilla 5-pump Latte consumption. 

I also turn to my network, beginning with my biggest networker in the entire world--my mother!  As an animal groomer, she has a bazillion clients and she tells every single one of them that her daughter is in law school with such pride.  You can't pay for that kind of advertising.  Luckily, one of said clients is a legal headhunter in San Francisco and she hooks me up with a job!  Woo hoo!  The prospect of working at Starbucks was pretty grim, but the networking hath saved my unemployed soul! 

I was warned the job wasn't glamorous and was only two days.  No kidding--we worked in a storage warehouse assisting the records clerk of a law firm in finding three files out of 1,000.  However, it did turn into a month-long position because the records clerk loved me and the other temp so much!  Oh yeah, and I guess she needed more help, too. 

After that stint in the vicinity of the legal field, the job blotter fell silent.  I had the records clerk position in September, and was still unemployed in November.  I even applied as a Dog Walker, Extraordinnaire.  Finally, I got a call to work as a seasonal employee at Macy's!  Hooray for a Macy's discount!  I had the good fortune of working at the Clinique counter and not some loser brand like Origins.  Or that one they discontinued that I can't recall.  Oh well, not my counter, sucka.  Unfortunately, there is no discount on makeup.  Boo. 

Then I took the bar exam (the first time), blah, blah, blah, and voila! I am temping for four months, bitches!  Thank the unemployment gods for this thing called receptionists on maternity leave!  I actually took the job three days before I discovered to my utter horror that I failed the bar exam and had to study again, but that's a whole other blog. 

I really love it here as the people are so wonderful.  I think I may cry on my last day.  No, seriously.  I even mentioned in my interview (against all reason and recommendation from said headhunter) that I may fail the bar exam and would begin studying again.  They said, "No problem, we'll work out time off for you."  Glorious, unbridled sympathy.  And my bosses let me study during work.  How awesome is that?!  Pretty fucking amazing, let me tell you. 

You might also be wondering, "Hey, aren't these jobs, like, beneath you, or something?"  My response?  Hell to the no!  Am I capable of writing a 30-page appellate brief with enough bravado and legal expertise to get an immigrant detainee released and allow him to continue living his life in the United States?  Of course!  Do I miss contributing to society on this level?  Most certainly.  Am I able to help make the world a better place, one scanned PDF of a fax at a time?  You betcha!  My work ethic is such that I make it my goal to do the best job possible at whatever job I do so that I'm proud of myself at the end of the day.  Until I pass the bar exam and until I find an attorney position thereafter, I will happily work as an overqualified receptionist while wearing a smile.

The Tale of the Midget Mallet

My first semester of my 1L year (aka when I was in my first year of law school, for those who are of the non-legal begal variety) was nothing short of boring and terrifying with intermitten spurts of fun all wrapped in one sweaty, humid tropical cloud.  Reading for class for the first few months was like reading Spanish; I speak Spanish like a kindergartener, if you're picking up what I'm putting down.  In all fairness, I did manage to get around Spain and Italy on my ordering and directive Spanish skills.  Can I speak 100% of this romantic, beautiful language?  Hell no!  And so it was with the law.  I had to look up every other word, substitute its meaning and then read, re-read, re-read, and read aloud until something made sense.   It was terrifying because of this stupid thing called the "Socratic Method" where law professors call on students at random and ask questions to get to the point of the day's lecture.  Socrates must have been pretty bored with talking and just decided to force his students to talk to prevent himself from developing laryngitis.  Did I mention that you didn't know if you were getting called on EVER?  See?  Terrifying.

This is where the boring part comes in.  Do you know how boring and frustrating it is to read something you can't understand?  You know, like IKEA furniture directions?  What's far more boring is that reading law is not a social event.  You can't have casebook clubs and all read aloud and drink coffee and eat pastries.  In this rodeo, you're the lone cowboy.  I thought this until I learned better.  Moreover, it takes FOREVER to read something until you DO understand it.  For instance, I had 2-3 classes per day.  I don't remember my exact schedule, but let's say I had Civ Pro at 9am then Contracts at 11, then Torts at 3.  In order to be prepared, one is expected to have read all the material assigned for the day, which is around 30 pages.  FOR EACH CLASS.  After a few weeks, I learned that I could average 10 pages an hour while reading.  So, 10 pages per hour, 30 pages per class, that's 3 hours per class.  I'm no mathematician, but that's a long fucking time to read for all three classes.  They want us to read 9 hours a day AND show up to class AND sleep?  Where was this in the brochure? 

I think you get the picture of how miserable my life was for a few months until I figured out that a) I wasn't going to read all the material every day, and b) I needed friends so that I wouldn't continually have the urge to stab myself in the eye with a fork.  I moved to Miami not knowing a soul except for my roommate, whom I only met while looking at his house for all of 2 hours.  This was rough for Miss Social Butterfly McLawyer pants.

While I was in Miami, I eventually met a great group of friends and some of them have grown to become people I keep in touch with almost daily.  Okay, I only contact one of them daily, but who's counting?   We'll call him Irish Whimsy.  I finally realized that studying at school in the breezeway in the center of the law school provided far more entertainment and opporunity for conversation than my lovely lavender bedroom wall.  One night, we were far past being noobs but still struggling with our current legal writing assignment.  We were partnered in our legal writing classes and turned in one document for one grade.  The deadline was looming, and my partner (we'll call her SuperStar because, um, she was?!) and I began staying after school far past dusk until we were welted from all the fucking mosquito bites just so that we could perfect our Motion for Summary Judgment, as did the rest of the 1L class.  (For all you aspiring Grammar Whores such as myself, "judgment" only contains one "e".)

One such night, Irish Whimsy and I are packing up, and walking to our cars in the same area of the parking lot.  I should mention a few tid bits about Irish Whimsy.  One, he's Irish.  Two, he's really, really tall.  Like 6'2 or something.  To me that's like Shaquille O'Neill tall, and I've stood next to the hoop star in person.  Should I mention that I'm 4'11"?  Probably.  So we're walking to our cars, 50-pound backpacks and laptops in tow when Irish Whimsy looks down at me and the following occurs:

IW:  "I think I'm gonna call you Midget Mallet from now on." 

Me:  "Um, what?  What the fuck is a midget mallet and why are you going to refer to me as one?" 

IW:  "Because you look like you got hit with one!"

Me:  (With a seriously quizzical yet amused look on my face) Seriously what is a midget mallet?

IW:  (Aglow with whimsy)  You know?!  A mallet that you hit people with on the head to make them midgets?!  You're so short it looks like you got hit with one!!!!


He wasn't kidding either; he not only called me that but it caught on throughout our group.  Now it's lovingly evolved to just Midge  :)