I’m a first semester 2L, so finals have kind of lost their bite. Finals are now kind of like the stream of relatives that come visit you on the holidays. You know they’re coming, but in the summer, it’s all just so distant that you’re like, fuck it, that’s Future Hoomster’s problem.
And then Future Hoomster’s problem becomes YOUR problem, because the seasons change and things get cold and you get your annual pumpkin lattes and espresso truffles because those are the ONLY things you can stand at Starbucks because those idiots don’t know how to make coffee, which is why you only go there 3-5 times a year, in the winter.
And you’re sipping your espresso truffle after popping 18,000 units of the lactase enzyme because law school has given you an ulcer (Hi, Eustace! Love you!) and you’re now lactose intolerant because of it, and then it hits you, and you spray that espresso truffle out of your mouth in a fine, sticky mist because OH SHIT THE RELATIVES ARE COMING OVER AND YOUR HOUSE IS A MESS AND THEY ARE GOING TO TOUCH THINGS AND CRITICIZE YOU AND KEEP YOU UP ALL NIGHT AND THEY JUST FUCKING DON’T KNOW WHEN TO GO HOME.
Because, see, you haven’t really prepared for their visit. Sure, you’ve moved things around a little and picked up, but you haven’t gone as gung ho and gone over all the logs in the fireplace with a Q-tip, Danny-Tanner-style, like you did your first year, the first time they came to visit. So now they’re coming in two weeks and you’d better get shit together quickly. Which you’ll be able to, no worries. You’ll freak for two weeks, ride it out, and be fine. And when they leave, you’ll do a little dance (preferably an Irish jig) and then go about your normal routine again. And you won’t take your relatives’ phone calls until they visit you again in May/June, because, pfft, whatever, that’s Future Hoomster’s problem.
That is what law school finals are like your second year. Your first year, you were afraid of the relatives. Because every day, these relatives would call you up, while you were in class, while your prof was asking you a question and you had no idea what the answer was, and the relatives would be like, hey, remember us? AS IF YOU COULD FORGET. We’ll be there in three months. And you’d better make sure our visit is perfect, bitch.
And they’d call you ever day and send you threatening letters and one day you’d come home and your dog would be sitting in a pot of water on the stove (the stove wouldn’t be on; it would just be a message to let you know that if they wanted to, the relatives could get very close to you without your knowing it) and you’d be like WHY THE HELL DID I GIVE THESE ASSHOLES MY ADDRESS AND IS IT TOO LATE TO QUIT THIS BITCH AND GO LIVE ON AN ALPACA FARM IN PERU?
First year, your relatives put the fear of God in you. Second year, they’re just their typical annoying, pain in the ass selves and you have to ride it out and then slam the door behind them. And your third year?
Well, I’m not there yet, but I bet that during your third year, your relatives come to visit and you take them out to lunch without even letting them put their bags in the foyer (those stay in the car, thank you) and then just as the check comes you remember that you have all this other stuff going on, so you pay and tell them that you hope they have a great time sight-seeing, and peace.
And then you set them on fire.
:-|
To sum up the important points in this post, this is an alpaca.
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This is something being set on fire.
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And this is a cute Irish boy.
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He’s not dancing a jig, but whatever. I’m not going to be picky.
I love this post :D
So perfectly summed up.
I’m currently in the midst of my first round of 3L finals, and that is exactly what it is like. I’m like, oh finals, you’re cute, trying to cramp my style, now if you’ll excuse me I have parties to go to and a lot of wine to drink.
Good luck on finals, regardless!
Oh….you are AWESOME. I love it.
And thanks!
My mom hasn’t called me in like a week. I think she’s terrified I will go ape shit on her and be like, “Why are you calling me you crazy woman!?”
On the plus side, my friends who aren’t in law school think law school finals are akin to college finals and keep asking me to party every night. As tempting as that is, I’m thankful to have them in my lives because when it comes time to celebrate the end of this semester, they will be there! (Preferably with a liter of something strong.)
As for your Irish guy…Um…NO. Not really doing it for me. hahahaha.
Oh what a riot. I have been out of law school probably longer than you have been alive, but whatever. Your descriptions of exams are exactly on point. Yep, even lo these many decades later, the memory of 1L exams, first semester, is enough to make me want to hurl. Yep. I had a study group, we were all misfits, “older” returning students, i.e. we had had a small break between college and law school, and one of us was really too smart and we couldn’t meet her standards, but the rest of us, male and female, gay and straight, were all cuter and funnier so we tolerated her smartness and she tolerated our lack of focus. We worked on our course outlines and were frantic that we had not had them typed (this predated word processing by a long time for broke students) to share for more editing and highlighting and underlining. And then, who cared. First semester second year, yeah pretty much your scenario, just dreading the relatives. Exactly. Thanks for letting me know it still is the absolute worst way to learn a profession!!!! Good luck and keep writing!
[...] chockablock full of stress and anxiety and hard work and emotional pain and ulcers, like the one Huma Rashid has named Eustace. (It’s law school. Forget it.) Often during the holiday break, I wondered why I’m [...]