I rounded a corner today, walking back to work from lunch, and almost got flattened by a brigade of women. They brandished their strollers like battering rams, shouting to one another as they flooded the narrow Boston sidewalk and forced all the other pedestrians out into the street. Ugh. Come on. I immediately knew I would never be one of them. As a mother, I will never be so inconsiderate. I’m going to dart my future (totally well-behaved) kid around in some super-sleek foldable contraption or wear her on my chest in an earth-mother sling. I even mentally drafted a funny Facebook status about the crazy space-invading moms as I rode the elevator back to my office (does anyone else do this? reflexively formulate every life event into 140 characters?).

Then I thought about my friend reading that status, the one who’s about to give birth to her second child in a few weeks. And how she would probably find it ridiculously insensitive…because it would be. I don’t know yet what it’s like to be those women…maybe they’re lonely stay at home moms, all hopped up on the Q because they finally get to see another adult human being. Maybe the last place they want to live out their mom-hood is downtown Boston (especially this intersection…yikes) but that’s where their partners work, and that’s just how it is. Maybe they wanted rockin jogging strollers but they’re more expensive than the bulky beast version.

What. Ever. What I’m saying is, I look with mad gratitude upon people who understand that being a law student is sometimes a trial (get it? yeah baby) even if my problems are all “first world.” Which of course they are. But I need to get outside myself a little (a lot) more.

“Be kind, for everyone you meet is fighting a hard battle.” – Plato



So. During our 1L year, one of my law school friends who is also a dancer joined the undergrad ballet company here. I was like, “Fool, you crazy. This stack of books takes up 100 percent of my time, and then I have to delve into witchcraft to make MORE time, cause Torts isn’t gonna learn itself.” And she was obviously like, “Homeslice, you’re a dancer, you should know why I’m doing this…”

And when I finally caved and joined her this semester to choreograph for the company…well, duh. How did I not realize how necessary this is for my psyche? I crave this biz. Working with these dancers (even when they decide listening is highly optional while I give notes) has been the highlight of my experience at this school, and sitting through tech rehearsal for the show tonight, I was getting pretty excited to join them onstage next semester.

Until one of my dancers pulled her groin.

Record SCRATCH. At the last minute, I am re-learning all my choreography to fill in for her. In the awesome column: I am excited to perform for the first time in three years. In the column titled “Zomg”: I had her doing fouettes. The last time I did consistent fouettes was the 12th of never.

An exercise in controlling the world with your mind: I’m gonna get it together, and we gon’ work it.


The whole point of being a law student is that you’re supposed to totally love working on Saturdays.

Oh. It’s about liking law? Mmmmm, no one ever informed me. And while I do, (like law, that is) I must inform you that NO MADAM, I am not fond of spending Saturdays doing anything other than hanging around my hunky fiancé and trying to get him to take me out to eat. (Success rate = approximately fifty percent. This would be astronomically higher if someone would just OPEN A PALEO RESTAURANT for the love of God.)

Anyway…having chosen law as a career, and actually wishinghopingpraying to get a job offer at the firm this summer, I need to acclimate myself to the concept of putting in the hours andnot seeing that concept as death-on-a-stick being served to me by Satan. So…things I love about studying:

1. The opportunity to consume copious amounts of caffeine and have society see it as a useful tool rather than a sad, sad addiction.
2. The fact that the Starbucks nearest the law school is effectively a library, populated by friends who like to commiserate.  And share their outlets.
3. Reading is fun. I used to read so much as a kid, I would get in trouble. Granted, I was not reading about Civil Procedure. (I was a Level 3 nerd. That would have been off the charts. Like, Level 11 at least.)
4. Studying = not failing = job prospects = financial stability = buy a house? = that is the goal, I think = I no longer remember exactly why I am here.
5. Praise and affection from M whenever he sees me battling my nature and actually working. Pretty sure this is why I do most of my studying…we’re in this together, and I want to be a fully functioning earner to help support him, just as he wants to take care of me.
6. Semi-profound wonder that they let me take class here. It feels normal on a day-to-day basis, but on days like today, when the gorgeous hits…it reminds me of when we first got here. We allen-wrenched our way through all the giant IKEA dresser, stuffed inside it all the sweaters people told us we’d need so badly, and wandered out into the humid, crazy city 3,000 miles from everything we’d ever known…just so gobsmacked that we had gotten that huge binder in the mail, that we were allowed to meet all these new people, that we were going to get to be sponge-brains on this level. Mostly, that we were able to do it together. Insane.

Cheers, indeed. Star-brary, I comin’ ta GETcha.