good grief

thanks for the kind words that a few of you posted after my last entry. that fucker actually took me a long time to put together, so i'm glad that some of you liked it.

i should also mention that another 54 bucks rolled into the Africare fund yesterday. in other words, we're already almost 40% of the way to becoming life members of Africare. this is really amazing to me. i figured we'd raise two hundred dollars, max. in fact, i felt pretty secure in my belief that the $1500 mark was high enough that i'd never have to reveal my identity.

however, now it's looking like it might go either way. although i'm not at all excited about the prospect of pulling back the veil on my anonymity, i will admit that a part of me is rooting for this to actually work, just because we'd be doing something so tremendously meaningful for people really need our help. like i've said before, some things are bigger than any one person.

anyway, what i want to write about today is how law school still sucks after spring break. i must have been delusional last week when i wrote about being somewhat excited to get back into the swing of things. thus far, classes have been really boring, and hardly anyone has been prepared when they've been called on in class. plus, legal writing is still draining every remaining ounce of joy out of my miserable existence.

i reached a personal low this morning in property, a class that is becoming increasingly pointless for me with each passing week. the class was so bad, in fact, that i actually passed through all five stages of grief during the 110 minutes that we sat together.

and why was i grieving, you may ask? because something about that class always makes me die a little bit on the inside.

the five stages of grief

DENIAL: she's not still talking about J-Lo and Matt Damon, is she?

ANGER: why the fuck are we discussing a case she told us to skip?!?!?!!!

BARGAINING: lord, let this break last fifteen minutes, and i'll never masterbate again. i mean i won't masterbate again today. while i'm at school. in the library. thinking about the register girl in the cafeteria. i swear i won't do that if you just stretch this break out a little bit more. no deal? you mean you want me to keep my hands off myself all day, even when i get home? jesus christ, god, you drive a pretty hard bargain. ok, i'll tell you what. i'll agree to your terms, but with one caveat: you have to email me a property outline, and i'm talking about a really good one, not like that piece of shit you sent me for civ pro last semester. what? how can you say that? it was so a piece of shit. it said that a rule 6 violation pertained only to cases involving leonard part 6. well how the fuck was i supposed to know that was just a joke?

DEPRESSION: skip back 400 pages to ernst v. conditt? i don't remember any cases about go-karts. what's the point? there's no reason for me to go on. it doesn't even matter if i fail this class because i'm not going to pass the bar anyway. and i'm fat.

ACCEPTANCE: my understanding of property law will not be extended today.

***
interestingly enough, the people sitting around me do seem to be getting a lot out of property class, and enjoying it on some level. i can only conclude that my grief stems from some sort of fault of my own - a lack of preparation or cognitive horsepower - rather than from any extrinsic factor. sometimes i wish i weren't such a menlove.

-menlove