divine angst

I’ve been hearing a lot of noise from 0Ls (from some fellow bloggers as well as from board posters) about what they’re reading this summer to prepare for 1L.

I feel like a slacker saying this, but I’m not planning to read anything law related. We’re about to move into a tiny apartment that is in every way worse than our home—except that it has a pool. I am not going to drag One-L, Law School Confidential, or Planet Law School II out to the water with my pitcher of screwdrivers (or vodka tonics) when I can read fiction instead! Just not going to happen.

Part of me understands the fear—the feeling of, “I must be prepared! I must be ready!”—but I just can’t muster up that urgency in myself. I want to spend the summer reading books that are good, not books that I picked up only because they’re on the Barnes & Noble legal shelf.

And I kind of feel like a slacker for it. I am excited for the academic rigor of law school, for the mental exercise and the learning of that “new vocabulary.” But I don’t feel like I need to start trying to learn all that stuff on my own before I start. I want to enjoy this summer as much as I can and start school refreshed. I’ll be reading, yes, but I don’t want to burn myself out before I start. After all, do I really need to read stuff like this now? Stress I don’t need in my life, that’s what that is. Besides, sitting by the pool, I seriously doubt I’m going to absorb any of the “tips and tricks” these authors will provide—especially since I’m not actually in law school yet and everything I read will be confusing out of context!

So I’m taking summer reading suggestions. I will entertain legal suggestions, as long as they are actually interesting and not written to help me game a system I’m not yet in. I’ll also take fiction recommendations, even cheesy ones. I don’t want to feel out of place at the pool, after all.

The packing thing is going…OK. I bought 15 boxes yesterday but when I began taping them yesterday, Mr. Angst and I realized they were WAY too big for the stuff we need to box—namely, books.

We’ll keep them, as they’ll be useful for clothing and other soft, less-heavy items (and I can’t return them, because I bought them used and the used-box store doesn’t do returns on used boxes), but we need more small boxes. Today at lunch, I’ll go back to the used-box store and hope they have some used boxes in the small size that I can buy.

But the packing thing really is going OK. And everything else, really. The handyman came and finished the last few repairs the buyer required in the contract (although I think he blew a fuse somewhere, because one of the outlets in the dining room no longer works). I think I have someone coming to get the chair tonight. Things seem to be moving along, so I’m just ignoring that hollow feeling in my gut that washes over me when I lay down at night and stare at the empty bookshelves.

Moving is exciting but also hard for me. I don’t really know why. We didn’t move a lot when I was a kid, and I have always loved the excitement of going to a new place. But there’s something about living among boxes and empty shelves that really sinks my soul. Thankfully, this is a quick move—we’ll be done by Sunday, hopefully—so I don’t have to stare at the empty shelves for that long.