leafmonkey

 I've often wondered if one can measure the value of an experience, a person, or an object only by how hard it is to say goodbye.

This last week just answered that question.

Goodbye, friend.

I've often wondered if one can measure the value of an experience, a person, or an object only by how hard it is to say goodbye. 

This last week just answered that question. 

It's freshers' night. Like every year before this, first years are mocked and laughed at in the quad as I write.

Two years ago,I resolved that I would never, ever attend any freshers' night. Certainly not after my own. This year, however, was different. I was asked to take roll call in the quad after freshers'  night was done by no less than the Disciplinary Committee Convener herself.

I wish I did not have to have this pointed out to me. If nothing else, this meant that all first years would be required to turn up, if only to ensure that they did not get into trouble with evil, evil DisCo. Come to think of it, I can't think of another reason why I attended my ow Freshers' Night.

Now I'd love to say that I had no control over this, over room check, over Freshers' Night, over anything else. Sadly, I can't do that. I can't help but feel like a smaller person for not seeing this before, and indeed, for not telling the convener this when she asked. I suppose the only thing I can say at this point, as a member of the Disciplinary Committee and heck, as another student, is that I owe the first year women an apology. I wish I had had the wisdom to see this coming.

Maybe next year will be different.

 I've just finished reading Aunt Erma's Cope Book by Erma Bombeck. It's an attempt at a spoof on self-help books in general that falls flat on its face. Bombeck's sorry little tries at self-deprecating humour seem to ramble, contradict and not make too much sense in general. Do not read.

But really, why do people buy self-help books anyway? And how hard is it to write one? That could be my project for this vacation, you know, once I'm done getting my wisdom tooth extracted and my weight back to fit-into-those-adorable-but-awfully-tiny-jeans levels again. 

If only I knew how. 
Maybe I should consider getting one of those How-to-Write books.

 

 Our library had an unusual visitor today. Stripes is a lizard of a species that I cannot identify. S/he's yellow with green and brown,er, stripes. S/he's also extraordinarily well-behaved.S/he hasn't budged from under the dysfunctional OPAC console all day, unless, of course, you count the time I tried to take a picture of him/her. I do believe I was rather pesky. 

I see no reason to be afraid of Stripes. On the contrary, I suppose Stripes is frightened of the enormous beings trying to take pictures of him/her. I also think it's rather unfair for a harmless little lizard to find him/herself lost in the rather large and scary law library that I inhabit. 

Respect for other species and all that jazz apart, I think I'm guilty of extraordinary hypocrisy. I certainly have no locus to complain about people destroying other species' habitats if I'm uncomfortable with Stripes around me, or even if I see Stripes as a source of entertainment, a pretty object to photograph on my cell phone.

Then again, am I different from the rest of humanity?  

It's Univ Week in Law School. It's amazing fun of course, dressing up for class, watching people you see everyday walk the ramp, dance, put up performances. The quiz and lit events are amazing fun.

Yesterday, I helped a little girl who looked four years old (I could be very wrong here) fill up a two litre water bottle. I then watched her take it away to God-Only Knows-Where. She wouldn't talk much. From the sense of purpose in her movements, I'm guessing she wasn't at a tea party. I wonder what she was doing. More importantly, I wonder if she should be doing it at all. 

Law School's a great place to be. But yes, it could do with some perspective.  

 I'm waiting for a viva voce. I've been waiting for two and a half hours so far. 

Wow.

I wish professors would receive a dose of their own medicine. 

 There's something remarkable about the rain.

In a span of twenty minutes, a storm has come and gone. The rain fell in sheets, the trees swayed wildly, threatening to snap any second. The wind howled like a wild banshee (I refer to the little architectural blooper in the library that created a wild wind tunnel). There was thunder and there was lightning. 

And then, just as suddenly as it had appeared, the storm went off on its stormy way.

All is still outside. 

Is Law School to seem like this too, many years later?