It's funny, I never thought about getting this far or writing this much when I started this. This was a shot in the dark of sorts, something to do, someplace to talk and not worry about the look on the person's face when I said it. Now it's not that and still I continue. Strange, isn't it?
This is the way I'm supposed to be thinking.
Finals are sitting in a room on a hard kitchen chair for hours because Office Depot didn't actually have the one with lumbar support they said was on sale, staring at the increasingly small type on the same two screens all day long slogging through material that makes your head hurt, your fingers cramp and makes you feel a little less happy its all not crystallizing as it should.
Finals are quiet, an eerie quiet, because music or the television you sometimes play so the house doesn't feel so empty would be distractions from what you need to do and so all you hear are the click of the keys as you type, the faint thrum of electricity, the passing cars on the narrow road outside, the squirrels leaping from tree branch to your roof and the your own heartbeat when you stop to gather your thoughts.
Finals are eating something you know you shouldn't because making something you know you should be eating doesn't satisfy that growling at the back of your soul for a friendly face, a warm laugh or the gentle touch of warm body for too long, and food is all you have at this very moment because getting all this done is the priority so you eat and don't dwell on it
Finals are wondering why you're doing what you're doing, not in the micro sense of that word or that comma or that phrasing in the paper that is taking entirely too long to conceive, but in the macro sense of what does it all mean and you find you're asking yourself the question: "where will you be when you get where you're going?"...and you realize you're not sure anymore.
Finals in law school are a lonely time.
All the deadlines come at once, and instead of working you find your mind lost in the machinations of minutiae. As you get closer to the destination for the all the toil and sweat you've put in, you begin to wonder if you're really strong enough to hold someone's life, someone's livelihood, someone's dream in your hands where they're doing more than hoping for a good outcome. You start to question basic truths and look back upon the path you've been traveling and wonder if you should have chosen the other path, the simpler path.
Then you realize you've got more days of this ahead.
Finals are you serving yourself because you've even sent the metaphorical barkeep home for the duration.
Finals are quiet, an eerie quiet, because music or the television you sometimes play so the house doesn't feel so empty would be distractions from what you need to do and so all you hear are the click of the keys as you type, the faint thrum of electricity, the passing cars on the narrow road outside, the squirrels leaping from tree branch to your roof and the your own heartbeat when you stop to gather your thoughts.
Finals are eating something you know you shouldn't because making something you know you should be eating doesn't satisfy that growling at the back of your soul for a friendly face, a warm laugh or the gentle touch of warm body for too long, and food is all you have at this very moment because getting all this done is the priority so you eat and don't dwell on it
Finals are wondering why you're doing what you're doing, not in the micro sense of that word or that comma or that phrasing in the paper that is taking entirely too long to conceive, but in the macro sense of what does it all mean and you find you're asking yourself the question: "where will you be when you get where you're going?"...and you realize you're not sure anymore.
Finals in law school are a lonely time.
All the deadlines come at once, and instead of working you find your mind lost in the machinations of minutiae. As you get closer to the destination for the all the toil and sweat you've put in, you begin to wonder if you're really strong enough to hold someone's life, someone's livelihood, someone's dream in your hands where they're doing more than hoping for a good outcome. You start to question basic truths and look back upon the path you've been traveling and wonder if you should have chosen the other path, the simpler path.
Then you realize you've got more days of this ahead.
Finals are you serving yourself because you've even sent the metaphorical barkeep home for the duration.
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