Time Management

September 19, 2010 at 12:12 pm (Uncategorized) (, , , , , , , )

So I think this was literally the craziest, most schizophrenic week ever. It was stressful as all hell, and it involved me 1) scaring my section mates while walking the halls of my law school having harried phone conversations in broken Arabic, 2) going into a monastic, two-day, Amp-fueled writing frenzy at the library, and 3) ultimately hitting two nightclubs guilt-free with a Middle Eastern guy the weekend that memos were due.

Long story short, after almost giving myself an ulcer when he came in a day late, my friend H flew into DC from North Africa on Thursday safe and sound. To use law school language, he had “manifested” an “intent” to “party,” so in preparation, I completely cut myself off from the world for about two days in order to finish my work ahead of time. I did so, and I did a great job on it.

And we went out this weekend.

Yes. People hated on me. People called me irresponsible for going out this weekend because it’s “memo weekend.” No. I did not care. Because every single person who criticized me hadn’t even touched the assignment yet on Friday. Save for some minor edits, I finished that thing on Wednesday. At the risk of sounding crass, they be hatin’ cuz they be PROCRASTINATIN’! Which is fine. Some people like to spend their free time avoiding work.

I prefer to try and use my free time doing something that doesn’t suck. Different strokes for different folks.

Anyways — the partying. H is under 21, so we were somewhat limited in our venues. First night we decided to go to Ultrabar, which the illuminati at Yelp panned (because everyone in DC who uses Yelp hates everything). And although it was “trashy” and way too expensive, I gotta admit — I had fun. There’s nothing like chasing down a week of overly philosophical discussions on what constitutes “mutual assent” with 20 minutes of the same bass line playing so loud you can feel your sinuses vibrating.

Last night we went to Pasha Lounge on F Street because it was free. The walk there was fun, as H, a Muslim foreigner, was very freaked out by the large number of gay guys meandering around Dupont Circle at night, and the bouncer at Pasha had to reassure him that a) this wasn’t a gay nightclub and b) that if there were gay guys in the club, they wouldn’t bother him.  Ahh cultural sensitivity. Anyway, the place was really cool, Latin music playing, but it was a ghost town. We were one of nine people there the whole night. Got shot down by an MBA student from Georgetown, but the owner gave me free shots on the house. That helped.

Rounded out a weekend of quasi-questionable decision-making with a street festival and taking H to see the White House. And while H slept until 2 pm everyday, I got up at 10 am and got my reading for next week out of the way. I’m a closet gunner I guess.

In the end, DC’s a pretty cool place to live — if you manage your time right.

P.S. For those of you who think I’m too cavalier about my approach to law school, I assure you, I am far enough into the fray that it has already warped my way of thinking. H asked me if he had to be an American citizen to win the lottery. So I started thinking to myself, “hmm. Could the lotto commission just revoke the prize like that? Well, it seems gratuitous, but assuming the dollar he spent for a one in a million shot of winning was adequate consideration…”

And at that moment I stopped myself, horrified. Mentally, it was like that point in the movies where the person looks calmly at themselves in the mirror — and then punches the mirror and yells out “WHAT HAVE I BECOME?!?!”

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