Maud Rozee (3L)
I have class from 6 to 8 p.m. two days a week this semester. Am I supposed to eat dinner at 5 like a farmer? Or at 9 like some kind of European? Either way, I suffer unacceptable levels of hanger. TORT or NO TORT?
Nobody in Biz Org leaves a side seat open for me, although they must know I am going to be late. I am always late. Perhaps somewhere deep deep down I just don’t want to go to Biz Org. The feeling is definitely buried extremely deep. If I accidentally whack your laptop with my backpack as I reluctantly navigate into the Heart of Darkness, a.k.a. a seat in J140, well, that should’ve been in your contemplation when you chose to treat me like this. TORT or NO TORT?
The new 1L class is too sweet. Their supportive comments on pics of clique-free hangouts and offers to share food with each other are making the rest of us look like drama-loving, SNAIL-hating Grinches. TORT or NO TORT?
Every time I walk past the railings up to the dais in the Moot Court Room I stab myself on the invisible two-inch piece of protruding metal/stiletto dagger attached to each one. I have two identical bruises on either hip, and this may be the closest thing to an actual tort that this column has ever exposed. LITERAL TORT or NO TORT?
Halfway through the first day of my intensive course, the visiting professor asked if we usually took a break during classes, and if we wanted to take a break right now. Due to the cowardice of everyone in the room, including myself, I was forced to attend eighty total extra minutes of class over the course of the intensive—the equivalent of one (1) amazingly long nap. TORT or NO TORT?
Basically everyone in 3L has chosen to go on exchange. This unbelievably rude conduct has caused me to experience strong feelings of abandonment and envy on a daily basis. Pub nights have become bleak and meaningless. Their beautiful Instagrams add insult to injury. Every time I “like” an Exchange-agram, I feel like a wretched orphan watching my true family celebrate Christmas without me. A single tear rolls down my face. TORT or NO TORT?
The way a day supposedly rolls over into a new day at 12:01 a.m. is upsettingly formalistic. I’m still sitting in my PJ’s watching Grey’s Anatomy but suddenly this episode began “yesterday” and my readings need to be done by “tonight”? Getting that “Today’s Events” email at 12:06 a.m. is as jarring an experience as any I’ve ever known. TORT or NO TORT?