Warning: Foul Language

So. One final down. Three to go. And I still live and breathe. I know, you are shocked. I am too. As I sit here, trying to memorize the Uniform Commercial Code I think two things: (1) what the hell am I doing?! (2) I love law school.

I do. If I hated it, I probably would have tried to drop out by now. I tried to drop out of my master’s degree. They wouldn’t let me. Apparently it would look bad on them if I said, screw this and hopped on a plane and never came back. Who knew? But that is generally what I wanted to do for most of my master’s. I was disinterested and barely scraping through my classes. Working your ass off for something you don’t even want is really really lame. No, it is ridiculously lame. Don’t ever get a master’s just for your visa. Just marry his ass. It will turn out okay and you won’t have wasted $25,000.

Now, I wouldn’t be shocked if I barely scrape through my law school classes, but that would be for different reason. Law school is killer. Seriously. As someone who has earned a master’s already, I feel like I could do that totally trashed now. Wasted all the time. It would be great. Or not really, due to my pharmacist’s concerns. And the fact that I can never get wasted without feeling excessively guilty the next morning. I blame my solid upbringing for that.

I think the only higher education that must be harder is medical school. Or dental school. Or maybe I just think that because dental school sounds terrible.

So I am surviving but my goals have changed. I came in thinking – top of the class! By the middle of the semester I was thinking – Top third? Maybe? Now I am thinking – please God, just give me C’s. And it isn’t because I have been slacking. It is because law students are crazy. And graded on a curve. Which basically takes the whole mess of crazy that we already are and multiplies it by ten.

Whatdoyoumeanyoustudiedtwelvehoursaday?! I only studied ten!! Fuck fuck fuck. If she is studying twelve hours a day and everyone else is and I am graded on a curve then that means I will be one of the four that gets a D. Oh my God, Oh my God, Oh my God. Rob, get me a paper bag. Oh holy shit.

If it weren’t for my actual interest in the law I would have headed for the hills months ago.

Apparently my solid upbringing hasn’t stopped me from cussing. Blame England. Or Rob. We are really going to have to figure that out when we have kids…

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