Wooohoooo, law school! You know the thrill of bouncing on your tip toes at the start of the racing line? The adrenalin of your heart pumping itself, expanding and breathing for the winding road? The throb in your throat gulping down aching mouthful of hydrolites? And the pulsing muscles, dragging on, screaming "f$%! f%@*" while your brain tuned out in radio-like static? Well, that's kinda like law school.

Third week of law school in West Village, and word, I've never exercised my brain this intensely in life! I LOVE classes. There we witnessed a show of masterminded manipulation - cases, legal rules, common sense, life experience, pulled apart and thrown together, weaved and clashed, balancing and enlightening. Every single day, I walked out of class feeling dazed, wowed, bright-eyed, as if the wisdom of logics has flown down from the nine marble columns of the Supreme Court through a line of black robes, leather brief cases, hornbooks and treatises, through the professors' carefully crafted lectures, dropped into 90 confusing souls that is Section 4 of Class 2013, condensed into intriguing and fascinating legal idiosyncrasies inside my head. Here, emotion is meek, irrelevant, illogical. A good heart that goes out to the honest, hard-working men is hardly enough. Yet cold logic alone does not make a great lawyer.... or does it?

Mile 0.003. I had to stop tonight, closed the casebook, and took a long, purpose-less break (i.e., a whole season of America's Next Top Model). I had to remind myself not to get lost in law school, no matter how exciting the ride is. Because the race is long ahead, past law school, past Mile 26, past lofty amazing beautiful facts and reasoning...
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