You probably think I'm dead

But I'm not-- if, in the next month you need to get a hold of me, you can probably find me in the law library, between the book shelves near the back of the first floor, where I will be lying in corpse pose, deep breathing. It's fine; it's fine; it's fine.

Yes, things are getting real.

Full disclosure, I probably work half as hard as some people, no exaggeration. And like, it's cool-- school isn't #1 on my priority list, and I accept that about myself. I don't want a job that will require me to make work the #1 on my priority list in order for me to keep up, so the best thing I can do is set boundaries now and let things fall where they will.

Even so, the Hunger-Gamesiness of it all goes to your head, despite all your best Peeta intentions. Don't even ask "what kind of law do you want to go into"-- your guess is as good as mine. Hopefully something that will make me not poor. I don't really care about being rich (although I'm pretty sure I'd be great at it), but I care very much about not being poor.

And even though I don't kill myself studying, I've definitely sacrificed some things to the first-semester cause: Running. Writing. Saturdays. And so on. I'd like to figure out a way to balance my life so I get those back in January (except for Saturdays. HA.) I'm not saying I don't like law school; I love it. It's so much fun, and so intellectually stimulating, and I get to learn with the best people. I'm so happy to be where I am.

All I'm saying is that I am grossly under-prepared for finals, below par on Memo 3, and DFJI$#Q)NDJS)($#XQ34KLWBR!#!#$%FEDBVH!!!!!!!! 

That about sums up all my feelings right now.

Despite the fact that my life is too boring to merit documentation, I feel like no one likes blogs without pictures anymore-- so for your viewing pleasure, I present

Snapshots from my phone: 

 I'm deeply indebted to the previous owner of my Torts book. 

Some self-pitying selfies taken late one night.

The single best piece of information I've learned in Legal Research. 

One day I got an surprise package in the mail- a 1999 cookbook from my grandmother. 

No note, just a cookbook. But when it comes to "Buenos Burritos," what kind of an explanation do you need?

Oh look, I do have a fun picture! General Conference: Hudzy & Simpsy 4-TIME CHAMPS!!!

(Did I ever mention how we "live-tweeted" our first General Conference in our notebooks at the MTC? 

Probably not because that was wicked. @Motab: Spring colors are IN. #statementnecklace)

The day I switched carrels (study desks), everyone else happened to be in class so I couldn't resist.

I've since spent a lot of time thinking about that post-it.

Halloween: Thankfully, that afternoon I had an errand to run on main campus. I tried uncomfortably hard to get a good shot of this perfect child-- but failed, so now I can upload this with a clear conscience!

 My dad and Addy at our home trunk-or-treat. He always tries for scary (or at least, shock factor) but she said she would give him a kiss on the cheek because she loves zombies.

Speaking of creepy, look at this part of a Title of Liberty statue in the law school.
I'm no mom, but I know a thing or two about how not to hold a baby. 

Seriously, how is this child even supporting his own head right now?  

(Or if he is older, then how is he still light enough to hold up in the air like that?)

This does not look comfortable or sustainable.

Also, his face.

I've really gotten into sweet potato fries lately. I don't know why I felt compelled to document this batch, but it ended up being my best one yet.

And THERE YOU HAVE IT, friends. From now until December 19th, feel free to pray that I will continue to not die. 

The Personal Statement I Didn't Write

All law school applicants must submit a personal statement. This is nothing new. There is no official prompt, but I think it's generally expected that you pick something relatively traumatic but now you're stronger for it and here's what you learned blah blah blah. That's the paper I'm turning in. But if the point of the personal statement is to get to know me, then perhaps I should have written something like this:

Hi, my name is Lauren Simpson. I am 5'4", which I consider the perfect height for a woman.
That is my only quantifiable perfection, which is why I thought it was important to tell you about it right away.

Here are some miscellaneous facts about myself that may not make me a great lawyer, but certainly make me a delightful human being- and I do believe it is possible to be both.

I'm from the South, so I automatically possess that strange aura of class and down-to-earthiness that comes from one who drops her G's. I find myself very drawn to the color orange, which personality quizzes usually ascribe as a fickle heart, but you know. Whatever. I am also very drawn to mint chip ice cream and dark haired men, but so far no pseudo-scientific studies have linked those things to any kind of emotional volatility. I like my guitar acoustic and my nails painted, which is a dichotomy I have yet to resolve. I use the word "dichotomy" whenever possible, because I heard it on Mythbusters once and it made Adam Savage sound like even more of a genius than usual. Speaking of television, I provide excellent commentary during reality shows and cheesy Hallmark films. In another life, I would like to make a living doing just that. But in this one, I thought I'd stick to law.

Now that my hair is short, I have to get dressed every day because I'm scared of people seeing me as that girl (or worse, a boy) so at least I'll look the part. Also, because I'm not a mom who decided to continue her education later in life, I won't be annoying in class and try to relate personal stories about my health problems, divorce, or wayward children to the discussion topic at hand. That should be a huge plus.

I apologize in advance about my laugh. While it is warm and generous, it also tends to be rather loud and cackley. It's probably going to cause a minor disruption- during the first week of class for sure, and every once in a while after that. I have been attending Sacrament meetings for a long time, so I recognize that it is kind of inevitable. And for this, I am sorry.

I keep my cool in crisis situations and will publicly deny that I've shed tears over the end of Mulan. My father is a man of few words- but I like to think if I ever stole his identity and saved Canada, he would say his greatest gift and honor was having me for a daughter. That's just the most beautiful, Western thing I've ever heard.

I am an excellent person to have on roadtrips, which is in many ways a much stricter crucible than getting into law school. Let's say you can only admit 100 students into an incoming class. That's still 96 more than you could admit as passengers in your Corolla. (Not to project my reality on you; I'm sure you drive something nicer than a Corolla.) But my point is, I'm great at picking out harmonies and my bladder is ruled with an iron will. Are these qualities directly relatable to the making of an excellent law student? That's for you to decide.

But probably, yeah.


P.S. Sorry if I bombed the LSAT; that was my bad.
 

Procrastination has a nasty hangover.

The LSAT is in one month. On Monday, the cramming begins. I can't start on Sunday because I'll be too busy fasting for inspiration to come up with an 'Absolutely Charming: Heartfelt yet Hilarious! Five Stars!' personal statement.

I do not feel like Elle Woods. 

Nor do I feel like Vivian Kensington, who no one even likes but at least she's smart. 

I don't even feel like Sorority Girl #3, who isn't even smart but at least she has cute hair and a rockin bod and stuff. 

Out of the entire cast of Legally Blonde, the character I most identify with is "Bespectacled Boy"– 

a no-namer totally uncredited except for this lowly photo on IMDB. 

That is how small I feel. 

 P.S. I am starting to teach piano lessons on Friday and I am terrified.

I have never taught piano lessons before.

I can't even play piano in church. 

I am such a fraud. 

Hopefully they don't find out because they read this blog, but discover it later on their own terms.

Law School?

This weekend Father Dear sent me the following email:

Top 5 Reasons for You to Go to Law School

5. You are young, beautiful, and smart and now is the time of life to load up on education that your family can buy you to secure a high income and fulfilling future.

4. To acquire lawyering skills.

3. Your mother wants you to become like Chris Cuomo.

2. Your grandmother wants you to become like Megyn Kelly.

1. When people tick you off you can just sue 'em.

  

It's true that Monday I'm going to a meeting about life in the lovely JRCB. I'm going because it was pitched specifically for Women in Law School and because I get free lunch.

But mostly because it would make him happy.

I had never seriously considered it because of an exhaustive Mock Trial competition in high school, the difficulty of the LSAT prep book, and my non-cutthroat nature. I would have complimented Elle's fuzzy pen on the first day of class. 

But my father is a smart man, so I usually try to take his advice as far as I can.

College. What a babe. 

I can't even tell you how many things I love about this picture.

Like me, he didn't like to wear pants or fix his hair. 

And like me, excelled at thrifting and dressing like a grandmother.

 P.S. GUESS WHAT ELSE HAPPENED?!???

After so much moderate watering and love?!??!??

I came home last night and it was dead. Like shriveled up raisin dead. There was no chance of revival.
You tell me what kind of a relationship metaphor I am supposed to draw out of this.

 

 Relief Sorority Sleepover.
There was so much nail polish I couldn't pick just one. Or two. Or three.

Hi, my name is Lauren Simpson and I am thirteen years old.