Philip Glass’s Koyaanisqatsi softly whirred in the background as I put the finishing touches on my very first motion for summary judgment. Whoosh! With the push of a button, the draft sailed out of my hands and into the warm embrace of my Writing Fellow’s inbox. Relief and a dull sense of accomplishment washed over me. I switched from passive listening to active engagement with the music emanating from my headphones. The bass line seemed to linger on the same note for centuries. A solitary flute layered on a looped arpeggio. Enter the trumpets, elevating the intensity with a string of incessant eighth notes. This mesmeric masterpiece carried on for over an hour. I completely zoned out, and by the end, an epiphany had blossomed.
I’ve read numerous depictions of the law school experience—many of which detail its inherent stresses and demands—but I’ve never encountered any describing its delightfully zen nature.
To me, this adventure can best be described as a Philip Glass symphony: some gleefully embrace the minimalism and revel in the covert dynamism of a narrow routine, whereas others only see oppressive monotony.
If you fancy regularity, you may thrive in this environment. Daily readings are the reliable ostinato that propels each week forward. Each subsequent five-day phrase builds upon on everything that came before it—especially in Constitutional law—adding new layers of complexity without deviating from the tempo. The ebb and flow follows this braided ritual: Monday evenings are devoted to Constitutional and Administrative Law; a 6 hour block midday Tuesday offers an opportunity to ponder Criminal Law and Property at Pavement; Wednesday brings a variation on a Monday theme; Thursday I tinker with my writing assignment at the Super 88; Friday I’m in raptures. Then comes the weekend, which can only be described as the symphonic bridge that inevitably leads to the piece’s central motif. Extracurricular indulgences, such as off-campus outings with classmates, are colorful timbres sprinkled throughout this opus.
Four weeks into second semester, I am grateful that I’ve found my rhythm. It just took a bit of zenning out to realize that things had fallen into place, one phrase at a time.