hows law school

Today, I offer, as an exercise in contrast, the state of affairs of my dearest law school peers.   Early last year, I joined a fellowship of seven for the betterment of our collective education (read: study group).  The fellowship had fractured by the year’s conclusion. Yet good fortune rained. Of the original seven,  five did well enough to receive invitations to join Law Review, one transferred to Columbia Law, and, well, the seventh laid idle.  When autumn arrived, prominent offers of summer employment were abound, flowing forth like water from a fountain in which I did not drink.

Let’s cut to the short of it:  last week, members of my former study group each had their student note selected for publication.  One was just crowned editor-in-chief of Law Review;  another, its managing editor; yet another, one of its notes editors.  I am surrounded by their success and it is maddening.  My mind is a pot barely big enough for this  stew of jealousy I am cooking.  “Congratulations” is a long word, almost built for an envious, sarcastic twist at the very end.

Okay, I need to fucking re-double my efforts, and somehow find a way to squeeze a drop of outward success out of these three goddamn years.  Because I cannot stand another semester in a prison of mediocrity of my own making.

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