Boring Post to Fulfill Week Times Two Promise

J.F.: Its not whether you’re right or wrong, its whether you have the last say.

So there.

***

Why don’t I write more about my law school experience, aside from the ranting? I’ve mentally checked out. I don’t pay close attention in class anymore, or any attention really. There are the rare occasions involving random stupidity, of my own doing, which have faded away into my shaded past.

Here is my average school journey. I hope in the Silver Surfer and take Ninety-Five North to the law school. Because I drink a big glass of water fifteen minutes before getting into the Silver Surfer, my walk to the school is fraught with peril as my bladder threatens to release a golden prize all over my pants. When I make it to the entrance, I flash my identification card at the security guard, check my mailbox, and head off to class.

If it’s Sales and Sales Financing, I take my seat in the back of the room, turn on my laptop, and surf the internet for one or two hours, sometimes pecking a few notes here and there. If I’m especially bold, I’ll turn on the internet chat programs and make the rounds.

Tobacco Control is ten people plus the professor, so I turn on my laptop and stare blankly at the screen for two hours. I don’t take notes since we have no final exam, and most of the work is done out of class. Sometimes I’ll daydream about what might have been. Sometimes I won’t.

Maryland Civil Procedure is similar to Sales and Sales Financing, in that I don’t pay too close attention. Judge J.F.’s stories are quite amusing, and since he tells so many, the information we need to know is condensed into the last twenty minutes of class, or transcribed on the giant stacks of handouts we receive every class period.

If I have to stay in the law school for non-consecutive classes, then I’ll grab something from the vending machine or walk down to the Inner Harbor and grab some Chipotle. The Chipotle round-trip, with eating time, is an hour and ten minutes, down to an hour if I rush it. With a shower (if there was one available in the school), and me running, I think forty-five minutes is doable. One of these days, for the hell of it, I may test the run just to see what it’s like, jogging around the city with all its smog and traffic.

I can count on one hand the number of people in the law school I talk to. This is not because I cannot count higher than five, just another consequence of my antisociality. If I see one of them, I will stop to talk to them; since we’re between classes, these conversations tend to run short of the five minute mark.

Don’t drink, don’t smoke, don’t do drugs, so that eliminates me from a majority of the social activities.

That’s it. That’s my law school experience in a nutshell. Pretty boring all around.