Endings, beginnings, and agings

Today was the last day of classes for us--first semester is officially over except for exams. One could argue, of course, that this means we're actually quite a ways from being done. Fine, fine, but there's still something kind of simultaneously weird and cool about the end of classes. Like, I just got uesd to the idea of it being November, and here we are done? Crazy.

The professors put varying levels of energy into and emphasis into their closing words. All three were good in their own way--though the cake was definitely taken by our contracts prof, who not only couched his little speech in terms of "two confessions and three apologies," but concluded with a momentously fabulous reading of a poem that's based on one of the cases we read this semester. It brought down the house. We applauded at the end of each final class, a tradition that always makes me choke up for reasons I can't explain. I think it's the same thing that makes me cry at Home Depot commercials.

So now we start reading period. There's so much to be done in the next 12 days, I refuse to contemplate it as a whole. I'm invoking all the energy of Bill Murray in What About Bob?, as he babystepped his way out of neurosis. Babysteps...through mens rea. Babysteps...across the Model Penal Code. Babysteps...to the fridge. Ack. Maybe less of that.

And, as always happens during reading period, today marks the 25th anniversary of my mom's weary conclusion of 5 days of active labor with yours truly.