My 1L Slam

The best piece of advice in my first-year of law school came from my torts professor. The 1L experience is a marathon, not a sprint, she said. Of course, I wasn’t really sure what that meant, until I found my brain shutting down, unable to retain information during the week of final exams. So I tried to engage my mind in more creative endeavors. I produced “My 1L Slam” in two segments. Please enjoy my insanity.

You can find me in the front row, keepin’ low pro,

But make no mistake this choice got me feelin’ like a yo-yo.

Thought higher education would make me worldly – ‘Round the World,

But I’ve never felt smaller; my mind’s been crisscrossed and twirled;

Rock the Cradle –deserving rhetoric’s fed by the ladle.

Hail a cab, assigned, forced to argue pro-po-po state.

I’d hop a bridge before settling for some cubicle fate.

Since I was 8 been seein’ green bridges in a recurring dream,

Where I die headlights first, past a fruit stand, into a stream.

Picked a brand-new 12-floor blue and green uni,

Third-tier glass box got me thinkin’ bout jumps, feelin’ Looney.

So yeah, wanna talk ‘bout Kevorkian, call me Dr. Death, Esquire.

If I had any game at all, I’d join moot court and spit hell-fire.

But, since I stutter and I shake,

Shit is moot, I’d say.

Doesn’t matter if my writing is as decent as a missile,

C in CivPro, need a GPA over 3 to be journal-official.

“A journo background should give you a leg up,” says a judicial.

Writing is an art, you’d think that’d be non-justiciable,

But legal writing is formulaic, derivative and it feels artificial.

All this means my leg’s not up, my finger is.

Married to the 1L debt, but you can call me Ms.

A prof watches Asian soaps in the John as she takes a wiz.

True shit.

Wonder if I’ll get tossed out cuz law school smokes me like a cig.

I bus to the Harbor just wantin’ to escape on a boat with a rig.

Can’t afford a car. Not a drug dealer or a drug user,

Whatever Bro, stuck in the library, no friends – I’m a loser.

Not sure if I could break down loser,

Strict construction, chickenshit, makes me wanna grab a boozer;

Talkin’ Scalia, not guys in hardhats, cutting through rock like a cruiser.

Whoops secret’s out I’m leftist!

Knowledge stuck in my mouth, Socrates call the dentist.

Shout-out Lorenz, oh,

He’s my doc, don’t confuse him with Cardozo.

On the real my lips are Jay Z swell,

It’s like a side effect of this whole hell.

Hell hole that rocks the cradle, rocks the membrane;

Assign 500 casebook pages and watch my soul drain.

But, “hey Kay, why you there if you hate it so much?”

Thought it’d be different. Bite your tongue – told ya so’s grounds for a punch.

“What’d you think it’d be? Were you lookin’ for a shortcut? A life answer key?”

Nah, guess I just thought I’d be a different me.

Will the real Fat Kay please stand up? Standing!

Got called Kelsey twice; not sure who I am. Sup? Branding!

College Park, undergrad was my heyday,

But guess Frost was right, nothing gold can stay.

Finding myself’s harder than a poltergeist; Ghostbuster – Stambovski!

Rest in peace. Mock trial tip – go Stanislavski!

Mock trial, mocking bird;

Caged bird sings “life’s absurd.”

Theories should flow, Maya Angelou.

Rule of perps be stranger than Camus.

Wanna fly away like Furtado; stubborn, “no regrets,” – that’s my motto.

Scrutinize me strictly, embarrassed by your bravado.

“The fact that” means nothing.

ITA grammar is disgusting.

Guy tries to make a pass at me in the elevator.

And I’m all “Eh, see you later.”

First thing out of his mouth’s “I’m a 2L.”

Not impressed. Brief this. Here’s some Intel:

Props for surviving exists only in CBS’ jurisdiction,

Don’t try ‘n tell me it means you’re smart – Rainman, Rainmaker – that’s fiction.

You just played the game and didn’t quit.

I discriminate, what kind of person would choose this shit?

Looking at the mirror, I don’t like what I see.

Lawyers and wannabes just don’t do it for me.

You probs get off on oral arguments; erection.

Like a gunner, ya got an annoying inflection.

I wouldn’t date me, why would I date you? Hey, objection!

Want the yin to my yang. It takes two; equal protection.

No need to arbitrate, I won’t sue.

Due process, I’ll do me and you do you.

Drawing and free writing is my artistic revolution;

It’s a protest against the tyranny of disillusion.

If I flunk, maybe it a blessing, heaven-sent,

It ain’t easy but maybe it’s my easement.

Just don’t talk about me, what I’m gonna do, what’s my intent.

Jussayin’ law schools ’bout that unjust enrichment,

At least that’s how class was when I went.

Lately I’ve been turnin’ to Reality Bites,

To find some answers in my life.

Disillusioned with civil rules and legal rights.

Still not tryna be anybody’s wife.

Netflixin’ all day cuz I can’t afford cable.

Majorin’ in debt, social mobility’s a fable.

My roommate taught me good means ya got weed.

And law school taught me I gotta a duty to read.

But nothing useful that would open my mind,

Casebooks and memos and of the kind,

Rolling the pages of the damn Smoke Ball or Iqball,

When all I wanted was to ingest Infinite Jest.

DFW said higher education’s a paradox –

That’s probably true, but it beats movin’ rocks.

But I’m not sure if my choice is any better,

And I won’t pretend that I’m a trend setter.

More people in law school than lawyers on the planet.

How much this shit cost? That can’t be right, can it?

A law school 10 gets drilled on mens rea.

He could drill me. But I know I’m no Princess Leia.

Professor rattles on about causation and transferred intent,

I’m unemployed, chained to my parents begging for rent.

Sick of hearin’ the nonsense about RPP.

Should my cover letter be about me?

I’m over analyzin’ what’s reasonable.

Can I drop out? Is it still seasonable?

Sitting in the library combin’ over corpus delecti,

Reading this shit for hours makes me wanna die.

Are you serious with this Lords shit in Rylands v. Fletcher?

You are what you read, so I read Salinger’s Catcher.

Colleagues in my section calculating the curve,

Professors be Socratic like “bitch, you got served.”

If ruthless gunnin’ is what it takes to get a B,

I’m just like, “fuck it, I’d rather write and be free.”

Do please excuse me if appear crass,

But I can’t afford study aids and I’m jus’ tryna pass.

I’m so tired, but I’ve gotta make moves to read that outline like a 7b motion.

Sayin’ words like “prior to” doesn’t make you any smarter – just to clarify that notion.

Wish I could promise to estopp you right there.

You work as a paralegal? Rest assure, nobody will care.

I don’t mean to be rude, just wanna set a precedent,

Honestly in a class discussion, it’s really just not relevant.

So a girl in my section got an extension cuz she had a major surgery,

Then people accused her of cheating the system like it was perjury.

Yeah, law school is tough like personal jurisdiction,

But that’s no license to just be a dick then.

Organizing my memo with CREAC,

As creativity drains from my brain, a soul is what I lack.

Used to think my struggle was a product of ADHD,

But upon reflecting it’s easy to see,

Maybe the lawyer’s life isn’t for me.

This I know: risk-utility balance ain’t my chi.

Still, I’m here and I’m too stubborn to quit,

So I’ll neglect litigation’s lack of appeal and read this writ.

I might be ready to mail it in like Rule 11,

But I’ll work with good faith so I can go to heaven.

Knee deep in contracts and Cardozo’s a psycho.

Not quite suicidal, but I’m sufficiently not alright though.

Writing a flashcard to say neg per se,

When I call home, everyone asks, “Kay, you okay?”

“Whatever, yolo,” truth is that I’m not.

Man dies but once, so I’ll take this shot.

Beer Pong Champ; Bacardi Coconut rum is my drink,

But I’ve been sober all semester cuz when I drown I sink.

I don’t feel the need to explain this yodel.

If you’re wonderin’ what it means I’ll direct you to Byrne v Boadle;

Like a barrel, this slam speaks for itself.


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