For anyone who may be paying attention to my oft-neglected blog, I’ve taken down much of the content. While I enjoyed writing about a specific topic, I find myself straining more and more to find a way to fit my ideas into a topic, or to find the energy to write topical posts, since I do that to pay the bills.
Well, not anymore. Not now: I graduated from law school, and I’m studying for the bar exam at home. I could attempt to journal about my experiences mostly alone in my home, but that’s not interesting. What I really wanted to do was tell stories, finding a way to weave stories into topics, but really, I just have stories.
So, when I need a break, I will tell my stories.
Law school was like wearing shoes that were too small for three years; the way that high school feels. Law school was a lonely experience, which is weird, because I’m not the kind of person who is inclined to feel lonely or become bored without other people. It’s not that some people weren’t nice or friendly — and some weren’t, but it’s an environment that brings out the worst in people, and if you’re inclined to being a horrible piece of shit, law school just opens the floodgates — but that it always felt like I wasn’t able to conform: I’m too old, too exposed to the elements, like clay that has dried just enough to refuse to fit into the mold.
I worked around law school to afford to go, so I didn’t socialize much. I didn’t have time to join clubs. I really could care less about the gossip or who-fucks-who or any of that stuff. I never was good at keeping up at that stuff in any school or job. I’d like to say I’m too old for that anyway, but that’s not it. I expected law school to be much less like high school and much more like undergrad where you just do your own thing and other people do theirs because we all have lives to live.
But it was far more tribal than I expected it to be, and I’m always suspicious of cliques. I was a floater in high school, a floater in college, and loner much after that. But, at least if you’re female, there’s not being a loner or a floater in law school. It’s not possible, especially if you have a “strong personality.”
As it turns out, I have one.
So when I graduated, I was relieved to not have to go to school for a few days before bar prep began. I was signed up for a live class where I would ride the train for an hour to sit in a strange law school with what appeared to be at least 75% of my graduating class to watch a video of a lecture.
That night, as I laid awake knowing that I had to take another commute to a law school to simulated law class for the sole purpose of watching a scripted lecture I could be watching at home, I chose to stay home instead and do the bar prep online, and that’s been working out far better from me, and it gives me the alone time I need to have my thoughts and to decompress.
I haven’t spoken to anyone besides my boyfriend since May 22nd, save a few store clerks.
And it feels liberating. That’s the part we forget when we think of hermits and those who wander off alone. We worry about them being lonely, of not getting what they need, of dying and never being found. Of course, those are real concerns. Perhaps because we don’t even trust the idea of a child really going off into the wilderness (and I don’t mean “wilderness” figuratively to describe college or getting a job) that we can’t fathom the need to be secure with one’s self and one’s ability to survive that we see the hermit as the freak, the weirdo who — how dare they? — detaches from society rather than the individual embracing freedom.