Somebody shake me, please

I've had many (mis?)adventures since the pizza roll and beer diet that was sparked by my last post. And I apologize to my reader, who's been lost without me, I'm sure.

This has been a tough semester. I think Law School Confidential sums up 2L as the "work you to death" year (I don't know if this phrase is as cliche to anyone else, but good grief people get over it...we work hard, let's leave it at that). This is true (although I'm tired of being reminded of this) for me. I'm working harder than last year. I'm more involved and have Law Review and Moot Court to worry about, which are two activities that give automatic As, and yet the work you put in surely should deserve more than that - maybe some candy and flowers?

And then there are the usual classes. I'm taking two bar courses, which really aren't as hard as they are annoying. No, I don't really want to outline every concept after I learn it. Nor do I want the professor to schedule in make-up classes for every class he must miss. It isn't that I fail to appreciate the effort of this professor, but my time is limited and every minute of every day is thoroughly scheduled. I could use a spare hour and thirty minutes for another activity - sleep, maybe. My non-bar courses aren't easy, but I'm treating them as though they are. I'm sure my GPA will kick me for it later. (Sorry; you were never that good to me anyway.) In fact, I've only read for the cases I was already tested on for one class (which won't reappear on the final). That's it. No more. This should be an interesting result. I'll keep you posted.

So, I sit here this Sunday, with cheery/cheesy christmas music playing. It's nice to have it in the background, pumping me through my law review assignment that must-get-done-before-tomorrow. I probably should have started this earlier...but my motivation is low; so low, I felt like blogging. And, apparently, I don't feel like blogging much.

Well...anyway, I sit here this Sunday, after what has been a mother-effin-crazy couple of months. I think I'm four or five emotional melt downs in, I've lost my healthy glow from the cushy summer job (and all the money I earned from said job). OCI's didn't result in anything but rejections for me, which I'm strangely okay with. And I'm feeling pretty low, hopeless, etc.

But, for real...I sit here this Sunday, with enough time to spare to blog. I've been condescended, called names, taken advantage of - in many, oh-so-many, ways, torn down, appreciated, underappreciated, thanked, told "no thanks," been through two mini-apartment disasters, offered unsolicited advice, been the object of rumors and desire of strange men, and ultimately beaten to a pulp by the strange goings on in my life.

But as I sit here today, there are fresh flowers on my kitchen table. And I look at these flowers - the first bouqet I didn't buy for myself since I moved - and I'm in a little bit of awe. It is strange to me. This flower sending concept. I've seen it done on TV, in movies, and for others. I know it is completely normal. But the only flowers I've received before this were to soften my reaction to hard-to-take news. I appreciate the thought behind the sending of these flowers. But it is odd that I am on the receiving end of a "tradition" men hold of sending women flowers, just because. And in conjunction with my totally fucked up Law School "Life," it is almost humorous that the dating aspect of my life is going so well - or so I think, as evidenced by these flowers. I'm not even trying to date successfully. In fact, I've seen the sender of these flowers maybe 5 times in the last 3 months. I almost blogged about the sender the day after I met him. But I didn't have the words...I was infatuated (at the time, now I'm somwhere between like and indifference). Then I got busy. Now I have flowers. Weird.

But you know what...I'm going to categorize this as a dating success. And if I fail at everything else, at least my dating life is going seemingly well.

Anyway. That's enough of that. I'll be back soon with some interesting anecdotes on why Law School Life should never be confused with Real Life. Happy November.