the twenty-eighth of april, a friday

                       

So.

Today was my last day of law school, ever.

Ever.

I had one class, from 9:00 to 10:00, and then I was done.

Obviously, I'm not really done, I still have exams and bar classes and graduation. But as far as actual law school classes, I am finished.

Wow.

        

I suppose that with everything I need to do in the next month, it hasn't really hit me yet. It's not like the class was over and bam, summer, the couch and a remote control.

I'm happy, relieved, tired, not a little sad. I suppose it is like any milestone in life, where the corner you're turning is an obvious one. You look back, happy to leave behind things that were bad, but equally sorry to leave behind things that were good. Looking forward with trepidation at the things that are scary and unkown, with excitement at the things that are familiar and comforting.

There's a little of all of that staring me in the face today. I will miss a great deal about law school. I will miss walking around the building saying hello to every third person because I know them. I will miss the free copies I've been making since my first day on the job in the library. I will miss the camaraderie that comes from so many people being in the same position, the misery-loves-company dynamic that brings everyone together to bitch about a professor, a class, an assignment. I will miss Fay's, the fabulous, cheap breakfast place where you can hear your arteries clogging as you eat. I will miss this town, this apartment, this cross-the-street commute.

I will not miss the work. I will not miss spending $300 on three-inch casebooks that weigh eight pounds each. I will not miss the somewhat high-schoolish atmosphere. I will not miss the stress of exams. I will not miss staying up all night writing papers. I will not miss having life revolve around grades.

I am not looking forward to the bar exam. I am not looking forward to preparing for the bar exam. I am not looking forward to waiting for the results of the bar exam. I am not looking forward to a summer living off my parents. I am not looking forward to finally having to cut my hair. I am not looking forward to turning down my friends when they want to go out. I am not looking forward to cover letters, resumes, interviews.

I am very much looking forward to having an apartment two hundred yards from one of my oldest friends. I am very much looking forward to being in my hometown, back among streets and neighborhoods that I still know like the back of my hand, even ten years after the last time I lived there permanently. I am looking forward to once again having a reason to buy Cascade. I am looking forward to Sting before the bar, and Graceland after the bar.

I am looking forward to having a job, my first real adult job. I am looking forward to having an office and a business card and maybe even one day a secretary. I am looking forward to being an attorney. A good one.

So, I'm writing the end of a very distinct chapter of my life, which means I necessarily have to write the beginning of the next one. The transition will be hectic and heartwrenching and frightening, but I do know it will calm down eventually, and I will settle into adulthood, after all these years. Yes, I'm leaving a really good place, and leaving a lot of really good people, but I'm going to a really good place too.

And thank you for coming with me. It means the world.

It takes about one minute's worth of gas to start your car. If you're going to be idling for more than a minute, you'll save gas by turning the car off.
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