Tuesday - Day 2 of Many

It’s Contracts time again! Rah, rah, rah. I’m exhausted, but I guess such is the life of any graduate student. My eyes are doing that thing where you attempt to focus on something and your sight kind of shifts back and forth before orienting itself on the intended subject. Yikes!

I have my first writing course this afternoon. Hopefully we’ll have a great professor for that, because I couldn’t bear a boring writing class.

So the day started with Contracts, as previously stated, and then Criminal Law with the Dean (The Hawk). She’s really quick and bright and entertaining, not at all like the mental image I had cultivated of deans thanks to Marquette’s time-honored tradition of scouting out the most boring, emotionally stoic and uncaring elders in the community and pushing them into authoritative positions. There are actually competent, intelligent people in those positions here… it’s a welcome change.

I’m still having panic troubles, but they’re not half as bad as before. Last night I couldn’t fall asleep, so I walked over to the mail box in my pajamas and peered in all the illuminated windows. It’s was a really pleasant evening, with a bright warmth on the wind, and I enjoyed innocently snooping. There was a guy sitting on a third floor at his computer, obviously a graduate student of some sort, with books sprawled about. Other than that, I really only saw white walls and strung windows. A lot of people had bikes chained to their stairwells, and one person was obviously having a party, with streamers and a glossy birthday sign strung like graffiti upon their door. It’s also calming to look between the buildings at the moonlight prancing over the slight waves on the pond’s water. I started panicking this morning, but then I reminded myself that I’m not stuck on my own in the middle of Illinois forever, and I can always go home to my family, and I calmed down almost immediately. I don’t know what that was all about. I guess a fear of being abandoned. Then this morning in Criminal Law my heart started pounding so my whole chest vibrated and I could feel my pulse, and I had that cold rush of panic that there’s something critically wrong with my heart and I’m dying and at that point I realized I was veering down a bad path… so I did a few breathing exercises and typed a bit in my computerized version of my journal and that has helped. I think maybe if I keep sleeping and catch up it might help matters. Maybe I’m having more panic episodes because my system is already under stress due to lack of sleep?

After this class I’m going to try and get a key for the meters, the imperative word being “try.” Who’s to say whether I’ll actually make it to the public safety office, considering my disasterous attempt yesterday.

Yesterday when I got home I was schlepping toward the stairs, with my backpack, briefcase, bag-o-books and clothes from school all strapped across my back like Santa Claus, puffing mightily, and when I hit the third step I saw this giant Disney box at the top of the stairs. It was so exciting! My favorite type of box. I now have a Mickey bath mat and some Mickey bath towels, in addition to a Mickey cooking mitt and cloth with matching kitchen towels. So cute!

Well, for legal writing at thee o’clock they changed the room without posting it online, leaving a small group of haggard and sleep-deprived 1Ls to rush around like headless chickens. We did make it in plenty of time, but there’s nothing like cold panic to mentally alleviate the weight of my backpack.

My writing teacher, Professor Grant, said she just wanted me to know that for our mock class, which happened during orientation, I was the alternative first pick. Apparently, Professor Columbo, who picked people with Z last names after reading a biography on a famous golfer with a Z last name, almost went with “Italian names,” of which I was apparently the first in the alphabet. Saved by the rich man’s sport!

I find it oddly satisfying that the men’s bathroom is in the basement with the lockers and the rats and the women’s bathroom is on the first floor with the classrooms. Poetic justice.