We’re told in school to be candid about our conduct because if we aren’t, we might not be able to sit for the bar exam. In essence, that would mean that the 3 years spent slaving away and falling deeper into debt for nothing. We’re told to be cautious with our online profiles and to strongly consider taking them down for professional reasons.

I chose to start this blog and use my real name on here and on Twitter because I love connecting with authors and people online that use their real names and show who they truly are. Most of them are Christians, but a few aren’t and I choose to connect with all of them because of their candor and honesty. Some of them get called out because they’re so honest, and it’s harder to be transparent in Christian circles because most of them can be so judgemental.

I have to let myself be transparent and honest on here. I’m going to try to start living that way as much as possible. I fear that this will cause people to say that I turned into a heathen when I moved away, but it’s not that. At all.

I love Jesus so, so much. I love people fiercely and want to serve others. But I’m also sarcastic, callous and at times, uncouth. I find things funny that I probably shouldn’t. I’m passionate about putting priorities where they should be. I can be sweet, but it’s usually with a little bit of a bite, too. That’s how I am. I don’t know why God wired me that way, but I think and feel deeply and differently than a good portion of people. I’m starting to think that it’s not wrong, it’s just different. A good portion of my time has been spent in a world and around people who say don’t drink/cuss/have sex, be pretty but not too pretty, be smart but not too smart because then you’re a nerd, don’t watch movies with a rating higher than PG, enjoy life but not too much, love God but don’t be too serious about it unless everyone else around you is, love people but only the right people, dress fashionably but don’t spend too much money on it, don’t go on vacation unless it’s with the right people, give money away but not too much and make sure you give it to the right places, read books but just the evangelical ones or books on fasting, pray but not too loudly and on and on. It’s too much and it’s too hard to fit in and strike the right balance.

I need to be okay with being different. Maybe eventually I’ll be able to thrive on it.

I don’t want it to harm me professionally or personally, but I also want to be honest about who I am.

I’m fallible and I’m imperfect and I should be studying right now.

I was so wrong.

I still love hearing a good sermon and the intelligence of my professors has only made me desire more intelligence in preachers. I was listening to Bill Johnson of Bethel Church yesterday and was so totally struck by something he said. In Christianity, the way we should study is by looking at perfection and what’s right. We learn a standard by seeing the way that Jesus operates. Then, when we encounter something in the world that goes against what Jesus says or does, we can immediately identify it as wrong. We might not know exactly why it’s wrong, but our instincts realize even before reasoning can kick in.

In class today, I learned that in many of the cases that we’ll run over in our casebooks are put there because they’re wrong, not because they’re right. In almost all of them, the court system did something totally stupid or made up the law and someone else came along and called them out on it. My professor likened it to med students studying sick people, not people that are well.

I get what she’s saying. But really, we have to have a standard of what’s right to even know what’s wrong. In medicine, students already know from personal experience how the body is supposed to operate. In law, it’s often common sense (or you could argue that it’s not, because there are a ton of stupid lawyers and judges out there…and I was the one worried about making it through school!). We are pretty conditioned or made to know what those standards of operation are.

Yet in life, just trying to discern right from wrong, we’re automatically coded to do what’s wrong. We’re imperfect and soiled. We make bad decisions, hurt other people, and generally screw up. Most of the people that I know even do it in the name of religion or holiness, and it’s still wrong.

Christians aren’t perfect. Far from it, and most of us know it. The ones that act like they don’t are the ones most terrified by it. It goes against our other systems because humans naturally feel like we should know the standard of correctness and perfection. We totally don’t. Christians have accepted it, inherited it as a gift from Jesus – but it takes us more than a lifetime to actually learn that standard. We’ll never get it right, but that’s not an excuse to stop trying.

If I learn, little by little, what’s perfect and right and meant for me, I’ll recognize what’s not and stay away from it. Who better to learn from than Jesus?

I discovered something interesting today in my first day of class.

I’ve been so passionate about the concept of story on here – how we all have one and each day and action is an important part of it. Yet for the past several months I had kind of forgotten about how important my story was. I mean, I hated my job, and then after I quit I just sat around watching Buffy the Vampire Slayer. I don’t see Joss Whedon as a waste of time, like, ever, but I wasn’t really being that useful during that time.

(Incidentally, I’m pretty sure I learned more about the art of telling a story by watching Buffy than any other source. Seriously, it’s fantastic.)

I wasn’t really living my story. Although a few times I had dreams that I was living Buffy’s. It seemed that I couldn’t really find a balance between enjoying the art of other stories (of fictional or real characters) and living out my own. I thought that as soon as law school started, I’d be so busy living my story that I wouldn’t have time to enjoy anyone else’s.

After reading my first few cases, I realized that they’re just stories.

It all relates. We can’t get away from story.

Overall, it just proves to me that God really does know what He is doing.

Since I’m mostly an introvert, though, it was really nice to hang out by myself today. I got a manicure and pedicure at Ziyan, a fantastic spa, and I will be back! The girl that did my toes was young and sweet and primarily a hair stylist. I think I’d trust her to cut my hair, which is a big deal, so I might try going to her in a couple of months.

I did the reading for my torts and civ pro classes. It was dense, but not too much so, and I felt like I went through it okay. I briefed one case and haven’t really taken notes yet, but it’s difficult because I don’t yet know what the professors are looking for. I suppose I’ll find out soon enough.

I want to find more things to decorate my place, but I’m afraid to spend too much. I’ll probably wait until next semester to buy more- but I can definitely see myself staying in this apartment all three years of school, so I shouldn’t really be in a hurry. I feel so blessed to have found such a great place. It’s literally 10 minutes away from everything.

My blogs will become more riveting, I promise.

(Don’t hold your breath.)

I’m a little bummed because I didn’t meet anyone in my class that I really clicked with. I talked to a couple nice girls, but it wasn’t like we just totally hit it off. I’m inclined to think that people might have just been a little reserved since it’s the first day. I was so sleepy this morning that I couldn’t really come up with conversation either, so that didn’t help. I totally did the whole dozing-off-until-your-head-bobs-and-you-wake-up thing in one session. I’m off to a great start, eh?

Tomorrow is a new day, though, and I don’t have to be there quite so early. That helps. Plus we only have stuff to do until noon, and then we go to lunch with our groups so that should be fun. Then there’s a party tomorrow night and I’m getting a mani/pedi on Sunday. I seriously cannot believe I just typed mani/pedi.

I want to look for a church, but I’ve heard that it’s pretty near impossible to find a church with decent music here and that’s my favorite part! I’ve been ruined by my church’s band and choir, I think. It’s so weird to be in a group of people knowing that if I talk about my faith most people won’t have the foggiest idea of what it means. What it really means, not just what they think it means. I feel somewhat thrown off my game.

A phone call from my best friend helped though. And my shoes and necklaces and scarves are all arranged in my new closet, my picture is hung above my wall and my couch will be delivered on Tuesday.

It’s coming together. I’m going to survive. I just really want to make some friends and find where I fit in.

I’m totally saving Burn Notice and Royal Pains on my DVR for Sunday afternoon.

I’m exhausted from all of the running around I’ve been doing, but I’m satisfied, too. I’m still finding my way around, but it was so fun last night to realize that even though the mall closed in 25 minutes I still had time to go to Macy’s to get a Lush bath bomb and try one for the first time. Best bath ever. It’s great to be the only person needing the bathroom, have it completely quiet when I want and no one telling me that I should be cleaning when I really need a nap.

I met my 2L mentor this morning and we went to get my student ID. She treated me to Starbucks not even knowing that it was the way to my heart. She’s bubbly and gladly answered my questions and gave me tips and I had a great time. Then I met a girl that I’ve been messaging with on Facebook and we went to lunch. She showed me some roads that I didn’t know about and we went driving around for a while. It’s so great to know someone that will be going through exactly what I’ll experience.

I’m surprised by how normal all of the unfamiliarity is. When I was in my undergrad writing classes, it took me a while to create smooth transitions. Professors always said that I jumped too abruptly from one idea to the next and it upset the flow of my work. At first I honestly had no idea what a transition really was.

Such an ironic parallel for my life. I spent so much time jumping from one emotion to another when I hit some sort of obstacle or major change. I couldn’t function if hit with a surprise and any sort of shift made me panic.

I learned how to write a transition. I even learned how to connect several ideas into one theme in larger works. It was my own literary triumph. This transition from living at home to moving somewhere unfamiliar is a transition of personal triumph. I’m so relieved that I’ve survived to this point and I’m building up courage for the rest of it. I’ve had so many overwhelming feelings of rightness about all of this. It feels like a normal part of life.

I’ll try to hold onto this feeling as I start my classes

Nearing freak out mode here.

And…we’ve arrived.

Moving away to go to law school is the biggest thing I’ve ever done.

I know it’s right. I know God has totally paved the way and I am super blessed and receiving favor with every step.

But, of course, I’m totally freaking out and mourning all of the dreams that didn’t come to pass before this one. I mean, why does THIS dream have to happen? The lonely one with lots of work and no one to spoon with at night?

God, are You trying to torture me here?!

I want kids. Most of my friends don’t want kids ever and if they do, they want them way down the line. I have always wanted to have a family while I’m young. I want to have my kids while there’s still a chance of losing the baby weight and I have enough energy to chase them around. I want a couple of years to enjoy with my husband before I have kids and then I wanted to start popping them out or at least conceiving around 25.

Instead of a family, I’ll get the bar exam.

Sometimes it all just feels like a cruel joke. I know feminists would totally be kicking me right now and I know that most of my friends would think this sounds absolutely ridiculous. Yet all I can see is 3 years of hard work and little reward followed by studying for a test that I may or may not pass followed by years of grunt work in a demanding and competitive profession while being $90,000 in debt.

Brb *falls on sword*

I know that there’s a reason I’m not able to have my family now. I know God is not trying to torture me by having me as a bridesmaid in 2 weddings in less than 6 months while it feels like my own serious relationship leading to marriage is going to be here right around the time my spaceship lands in the yard. I know it’s stupid to be whining about this while I’m 22 and anything could happen and law school is a great opportunity. I am. I know. It is.

The fact remains: I want a family. I want to have kids. And I don’t want to have to wait a decade for them.

Right now, though, I feel content. I had a really great time shopping with Gesika today, and sometimes best friend time is all you need. She was in a bad mood too when we first set out, but we were able to turn it around with the help of some chai and retail therapy.

Ahhhh…I feel better.

Finally!

“There’s a new group of real live super heroes & they’re popping up everywhere. They can easily do the work of two people all on their own. They’re strong & determined, yet gentle & sensitive. They can kiss away boo boos & scare away the boogie man in a single bound. Millions of kids everywhere look up to them. They’re called single moms.”

HA, I say. HA HA HA.

I was raised by a single mother. A woman who had me at 23, stayed with my grandma for two weeks after I was born because she nearly bled to death, and then moved into her own place and never once went back to live with anyone else. I can’t tell you how many girls I’ve known over the past couple years that had kids and are still living with their parents or living off of welfare and buying themselves sparkly things just because they can. And they’re being celebrated for it.

Rubbish.

I saw my mom not know where money was going to come from and get on her knees to pray for an answer. I saw my mom work her fingers to the bone so that we could get OFF of welfare and even when we qualified for it, she refused to take it as soon as we could survive. We always had cable, our utilities never got turned off, and I wasn’t allowed to get a cell phone or internet before she knew we could afford it. We drove horrible cars that were falling apart. I was made fun of into college for not having nice things. I’m still emotionally scarred from my horrible relationship with my horrible father. My mom has always been the person in the background picking up slack for the prideful, showy, lazy people and asking for no recognition in return.

Being a single mother is not fun. Being the child of a single mother isn’t fun either.

A child is NOT a doll, prop or accessory. It’s not like a small dog you can carry around in your purse. It’s a human being, and a single mother (or father!) is totally responsible for that human’s life. It should be terrifying and it should terrify these girls into action- not into lazing around on Facebook patting each other on the back. A babysitter can kiss booboos and scare the boogieman. Guess what? My mom raised me entirely on her own and never once enlisted the help of a babysitter. My grandparents watched me on very rare occasions. Before I started school, we would sit at home for days because we had to walk everywhere and couldn’t really afford to do anything.

She washed all of my baby clothes in the bathtub and hung them up to dry. She said that moving a mile and a half from our old place into a two bedroom apartment in town when I was a year old was such a blessing that it made her cry. She could finally walk to get groceries rather than ask for a ride.

We had little…but we had traditions and did special things. Every Sunday we went roller skating. When I started piano lessons, we went to Taco Bell and bowling after my lesson. We did what we could and eked out every bit of fun we could. We didn’t have much, but she instilled in me to keep the little that I had in good condition and cared for.

The kind of single mother that deserves to be lauded is too busy to ask for recognition.