On Becoming a Law Student

Law school seems to employ the gavage method of learning, producing specially fattened minds that are rich, buttery and delicate in flavour. And while I am strapped down, being force-fed large chunks of knowledge, I have to wonder: is it worth it?

At the moment I just don’t know. I don’t feel good. I don’t make as many jokes as I used to and I am grouchy—not in a funny-old-man way either. I am just a pain to be around, as this prose will testify. And Tuesday mornings, Tuesday mornings I just want to kill myself.

These things were not always the case. So what’s the problem? It is not the amount of work. I’ve had to work hard before and sometimes I even enjoy it. Perhaps though, it is the quality of work. I find my essays are thin, like the pages of a bible—and make about as much sense too. It eats at me that everything in law is rushed. Then again, I’ve only been at it for five weeks and who is going to set a five-week-old a ten-thousand word essay? Maybe that’s more the problem. I was a senior student back in the good old days, a step away from the PhD. What happened? I sucked. That’s what happened. And every day studying law is a reminder that I couldn’t cut it.

Oh, but it is not all so melancholy. I enjoy reading cases, good cases, cases that some grand mind penned down. I am looking forward to writing my problem answer too. And I haven’t even done mooting yet—that I want to do. So there is light at the end of the tunnel. Let’s just hope it’s not a train.

More to the point, if I’m not enjoying law, why don’t I quit? Why don’t I stop whining like a little princess, stop bad mouthing a subject some many people must hold dear and move to somewhere I want to be?

I am a coward for one thing. I don’t have enough balls to move out to the real world. Honestly though, I know law is too good an opportunity. When I am not being a child, I feel lucky to come to university and study. That is all I have to do. This kind of life was once the sole domain of lords. And now some little shit from the Central Coast gets to do it. The only smart way to look at it: I am blessed to be here. And, as long as my lesser voices are silenced, I know I am one lucky bastard.

But here is the thing: even if something is an opportunity, how much happiness should you sacrifice? — how long is a piece of string? Yeah I know, but still, I wish there was an answer.