Location
Every law student has his or her favorite hideout. Some choose the library; others prefer a study room; some, for reasons beyond my comprehension, choose the "Fishbowl," a large, silent atrium with glass walls. I like the garden on nice days and Scott Commons in the mornings.
The longer I'm here, the more I realize that I have to do what works for me. Friends are wonderful (some of mine here are especially wonderful), but when they go off to study in silence, I'm not following them. Some of them stay up late; I get up early. Pretty much all of them seem to think that my daily NY Times crossword habit is a little nuts, but I'm not giving it up because it helps me get comfortable and focused each morning.
I admire my parents now for going to sleep when they're tired. I need to get better about that. I need to find my rhythm. Ever-increasing quantities of coffee are not going to cut it in the long run. I don't want to feel strung out for the next three months and have to detox over winter break.
Last night I had my red sweater out, the one with a zillion little cables and patterns, the one that took me over a year to finish knitting. I hadn't looked at it in a while and I was surprised to notice that it is a truly amazing object, a testament to the vision of the designer, the versatility of the craft, and my own skill and persistence. I've been knitting seriously for about four years now — not too much longer than the time I'll spend here. In that time, I've become a real craftswoman. But looking back at my first projects, I can find holes, uneven stitches, and evidence of some pretty big errors in judgment. It's easy to see these things looking at a pile of sweaters and socks, because my work is its own record. In a few months, I hope I can remember how tenuous my grasp on this law school beast seemed, and more than that, I hope that in a few months it will have changed.
The longer I'm here, the more I realize that I have to do what works for me. Friends are wonderful (some of mine here are especially wonderful), but when they go off to study in silence, I'm not following them. Some of them stay up late; I get up early. Pretty much all of them seem to think that my daily NY Times crossword habit is a little nuts, but I'm not giving it up because it helps me get comfortable and focused each morning.
I admire my parents now for going to sleep when they're tired. I need to get better about that. I need to find my rhythm. Ever-increasing quantities of coffee are not going to cut it in the long run. I don't want to feel strung out for the next three months and have to detox over winter break.
Last night I had my red sweater out, the one with a zillion little cables and patterns, the one that took me over a year to finish knitting. I hadn't looked at it in a while and I was surprised to notice that it is a truly amazing object, a testament to the vision of the designer, the versatility of the craft, and my own skill and persistence. I've been knitting seriously for about four years now — not too much longer than the time I'll spend here. In that time, I've become a real craftswoman. But looking back at my first projects, I can find holes, uneven stitches, and evidence of some pretty big errors in judgment. It's easy to see these things looking at a pile of sweaters and socks, because my work is its own record. In a few months, I hope I can remember how tenuous my grasp on this law school beast seemed, and more than that, I hope that in a few months it will have changed.
posted by Gwen at 9:45 AM
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