9.09 pm

They just posted the course offerings for next fall. Now comes the fun part - figuring out what to take and when. The idea of stacking my schedule so I have a three or four day weekend makes me almost giddy with joy. So does the idea of taking classes where the readings are more philosphical than nonsensical. I know there's a limit to how much can fit into the first year - but instead of only hearing "this is the law because it's the way we've done it for hundred's of years" I'd like to be able to ask why. In some ways, I'm upset that I'm only in school for three years. There are so many things that I want to do, I'm not sure how to fit them all in. I'm not particularly thrilled about having to graduate and go into the "real world", either.

9.20 pm
J tells me I'm a born lawyer. I'm not so sure about that. It's words that I get excited about, the possibilities of the blank page. The way my fingertips think faster than I can type sometimes, so that I find my fingers flying over the keyboard, in danger of tangling themselves. The novel is calling for me to come out and play. It wants to know why it's been stuck in a binder on my bookshelf for almost a year. It wants to know why I never spend time with it anymore. The problem is, Knightly may well be right. I'm not sure that lawyering and writing fit well together. Law school and writing don't, at any rate.