1L....and a Half

The second semester of law school is beginning, and I'm still not entirely sure how I got here. One year ago, I was just receiving the acceptance letter to the Chicago school that I attend. (It's not John Marshall. I wish people would quit asking me if I go to John Marshall.) It was my first acceptance letter and I distinctly remember screaming and crying. In happiness. The screaming and crying from frustration started in October. At any rate, by March 1st, I saved my seat, and started taking out loans. Law school is horrifically expensive. I now know the meaning of the words "poor graduate student."

I also know the meaning of the words "res ipsa loquitor" and "certiorari." I'm still not sure how to pronounce that second word. I just say "cert" like all of my professors, who I'm pretty sure can't say it either. I also know more practical things, like how to craft dinner out of the leftover cans in the cabinet and the cost of rent in Chicago. Not law-related, but helpful for the graduate student on the run. Or more accurately, the graduate student who spends too much time in the library and not enough at the grocery store.

So if you're already in law school and know the meaning of this blog title, at the very least these law school chronicles will be good for a laugh and a wise nod of the head.

If you're thinking about law school, you'll learn the title soon enough and maybe gain a little bit of confidence. Or just warnings about what not to do, as I tend to stumble my way through life because doing things gracefully just isn't my style.

And if you have no intention of going to law school, because you're my mom and you discovered that this blog while I was typing on the couch: Don't actually run with fireworks. Mrs. Palsgraf wouldn't like that very much.