Bananas go to law school, too!


Ah, yes

I have been neglecting The Blog, I know. I blame it on a spotty internet connection that refuses to actually "post" what I write and instead gives me time-out errors. That, and The Brief and The JobHunt and Finals; ThreeMonths.

Why are you so wooried about Finals; ThreeMonths, Banana?

Well, allow me to tell you. First of all, last semester's finals period consisted of 8 credits worth of finals. This semester? 20 credits: 6 Contracts, 5 Torts, 4 Con Law, 4 Civ Pro. So, mathamatically speaking, it really should be two and a half times worse this go around.

But, Banana, you're a PRO at this law school thing by now!

Yes, but my professional growth as a law student is matched by my classmates, let's be serious. So, in reality, (thank you Forced Curve), I'm really in exactly the same place I was last semester, comparatively-speaking. And comparatively-speaking is the only kind of speaking that matters.

But didn't you do okay last semester? Shouldn't that give you some wiggle room?

Wiggle room? Problem with "wiggle room" is that I am all but mathamatically assured that my GPA will drop next semester. Becuase, like the Winter Olympics, some Good Things only happen once every four years. And law school, alas, is but three years in duration.

What are you doing this summer?
I am the proud new owner of a blow up mattress so that I can happily live (in comfort!) on a street corner. 'Cause thanks to The Plague, I lost eleven interviews and No One Has Responded To Reschedule! I sent them an apology letter complete with "I'm sorry I bailed, I was almost dead" sentiment. Where is the mercy? So, back to sending out mass mailings and realizing that I could have saved a few bucks had I sent these Letters of Inquiry before the USPS hiked the price of a stamp.

Enough questions. I want to talk about muffins. I made, literally, 35 muffins this week. And there are none left because they have been pawned off to someone who will enjoy and metabolize them far better than I could ever dream. So, in more good news, I am only one strawberry muffin and four whisk-lisks tubbier.

I had coffee with one-L Michele this afternoon and we talked all about our ridiculous sorority from college (sorry, ridiculous sorority members who haven't yet switched to alumni status, but you KNOW you're ridiculous). I remembered how I sat in the front row in a history class freshman year during pledging (taught by -swoon- Professor Weaver). In the Year Before The Interveaning, our pledge class was still told to wear ridiculous clothes the last few weeks of pledging. And we did with GUSTO. I wore these ridiculous (see, ridiculous sorority!) Minnie Mouse ears with the name "Heather" embroidered in cursive on the back. That, coupled with a Minnie Mouse lunch box and the MOST HEINOUS DG plaid heavy-knit gold-purple-hunter green sweatshit with applique anchor --- I was one cool cat. Unfortunately, because of The Intervention, our pledgies are now able to maintain some semlence of self-respect and all these trinkets are stowed for "safekeeping" under Rachel's bed. I wish I had this blog a year ago so I could raise an angry fist about How The Chapter Has Changed For the Worse Because We Don't Dress the Pledgebabies Like Bafoons Anymore. But no, now you just get to hear me complain about law school. HAHA.