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Brittney Pescatore just graduated from the College of William and Mary where she double majored in English and government. Check back often to read her always evolving and interesting thoughts. Subscribe to her RSS feed Current Blog | 2007 Archives BY BRITTNEY PESCATORE '07 December 31, 2007 Right now I'm sitting in the Starbucks in my hometown, taking a break from writing cover letters. A week ago I was on family vacation in Las Vegas (I broke even!) and I didn't even have a to-do list to stress over. The sense of relief and freedom that washed over me when I finished my last exam has now been replaced by a sense of urgency and a familiar anxiety as I hurry to get out applications for summer jobs as well as work on my application to Columbia's journalism school, which I'm hoping to be accepted to in order to pursue a dual degree. That means that for the next few days, I'll be busy polishing up my lone legal writing sample (the memo they have us write in our Legal Practice Workshop) as well as assembling clips of my writing from past journalism jobs. And then, of course, there are all the cover letters. It feels weird to be asking someone to employ me in a law-related job when I have basically no experience with the practice of law except for the same one semester of law school that everyone else applying for these jobs just went through. Some of my classmates took time off between undergrad and law school to hold down jobs as paralegals, legal assistants, and other positions that gave them a chance to see just what lawyers are supposed to do. My encounter with the legal world is simply that I spent six weeks reporting on it for a newspaper before law school started. I've never written a brief, never had a real client's problem to deal with. A few minutes ago I was wondering if I should squeeze into my resume the fact that I did Mock Trial in middle school. I guess I just have to assume that everyone has to start somewhere and that surely someone will be willing to hire me, despite my lack of experience, simply on the basis of my incredible brilliance. Now, of course, the pressure is on to convey my complete genius in a one-page cover letter.
BY BRITTNEY PESCATORE '07 December 16, 2007 Freedom is so near. My last exam is on Tuesday and then I'll be finished with my first semester of law school. I remember when my thesis deadline was approaching this spring and I was counting down the days until I could sit in front of a television, guilt-free. Right now I have a very similar feeling; I'm relieved that I'm almost done but also more anxious than ever about the last hurdle that precedes the finish line. I've already sat through my Torts and Civil Procedure exams and both were painful, disheartening experiences. All that's left is Contracts, which has the potential to be the worst one yet. As tough as it's been, though, it hasn't been nearly as bad as I thought. Earlier this year I'd watched The Paper Chase, the film from the 1970s about first year law students at Harvard. At one point in the movie, two law students hole up in a hotel room for a few days to study far away from the distractions of campus. When I was working on my thesis, a friend and I decided to "paper chase" by dragging our laptops and boxes full of library books to a Williamsburg motel for the weekend. The solitude, lack of wireless Internet, and change of scenery were meant to inspire us to focus and churn out dozens and dozens of pages of pure genius. I can't say it was as effective as I'd hoped, but it wasn't worthless and I was proud to have gone to such intense lengths for my work. I remember thinking when I was sitting in the motel room, having lost track of what time of day it was and having filled up both of the double beds in the room with papers and post-its and books, that this was just the sort of hardcore lifestyle I had signed up for when I applied to law school. Turns out, I was kind of wrong. Maybe I should be taking such drastic steps for finals, but I'm not. I certainly spend the bulk of my days studying and have put in more time cramming for each of these three classes than I ever did for any class in undergrad. Still, I could be working harder. I could be studying right now instead of writing this blog post. But it just doesn't seem worth it -- why give up my sanity this early into the game? Maybe it's the curve, which makes grades seem arbitrary anyway. Maybe it's the weight of the whole semester disillusioning me. Whatever the reason, I'm thinking less about my grades and more about the fabulous time I'm going to have after I submit my exam Tuesday evening -- time spent vegging out on my couch, taking my little sister to see The Golden Compass, sleeping past noon, catching up with friends, and rapidly forgetting everything I've learned over the past four months. I'm really very calm about the whole thing, compared to characters in The Paper Chase. That's not to say I'm not freaking out just a little. On that note, back to outlining.
BY BRITTNEY PESCATORE '07 December 3, 2007 I think it's about time I devoted an entire post to my huge muscles. That's right -- I want to write about nothing other than my giant guns, my hulking biceps, my massive delts, my ripped torso. This may be a slight exaggeration, especially considering that I'm not sure what "delts" are and I think I may have just made up a word. And, further considering that I don't even meet the minimum weight requirement to donate blood, you would be wise to doubt that any part of my body actually qualifies as "ripped." Please excuse my hyperbole, however, and appreciate the fact that I, Brittney Pescatore, have been going to the gym on a semi-regular basis. It started over a month ago and I'm optimistic about the future. Going to the gym has always been on my to do list, never checked off, always staring back at me like a joke. Ever since I gave up my original ambition of being a secret agent or superhero, I've had even less motivation than ever before to trek all the way to the gym and pick up something that weighs more than 5 lbs. I can count on one hand the number of times I saw the inside of William and Mary's gym (I can give two-thumbs up to the smoothie stand in the new facility but am not the person to come to for a review of the machines). The fitness center here is not half as nice as the fancy new building they put up during my last year in Williamsburg, and I suspect it was the modesty of this school's set up that helped me get over the usual intimidation of a gym experience. Now, a couple of days a week, I take a break from all the cases and codes and commercial outlines to hop on the elliptical, lift a few free weights, and fidget with a couple of scary-looking machines that I convinced a friend to teach me how to use. The result? Muscles! Everywhere! Huge, gigantic muscles! Granted, at first the only things I was getting out of the gym were a sore body in the morning and a proud father when I called home. But, over time, I began to notice something strange. This odd feeling of meaty firmness where previously there was just skin and bone. These strange protrusions on my upper arms. The sudden ability to open the heavy back door to the law school. I always knew that a new school in a new city would provide an opportunity for me to work on being the kind of person I always wanted to be. And more than anything, I always wanted to be extremely jacked. I'm on my way.
You Can't Expect A Girl to Learn the Law on an Empty Stomach, So Pass the Turkey BY BRITTNEY PESCATORE '07 November 19, 2007 All semester I've been rationalizing away my unproductive moments, telling myself that at this early point in the game, it doesn't matter how much outlining I'm doing or whether I'm briefing cases consistently. I don't really have to worry until November, I would tell myself. And now here I am, more than halfway through that dreaded month and I'm still trying to make up excuses for why it's okay that I skipped Civil Procedure this morning to sleep in and why it's not a big deal that I haven't started the memo I have due on Wednesday. After Thanksgiving, I revise, this will change. Once I'm full of turkey and mashed potatoes and lasagna (my good Italian family wouldn't have it any other way), I'll be out of excuses and the real work begins. I have only one week left of classes on the other side of break and then three life-or-death (or so it seems) exams await me. They are each spaced a couple days apart, first Torts, then Civil Procedure, and then Contracts. Torts and Contracts will be about four hours long and Civ Pro will only be an hour, since we've already had two painful midterms to wet our appetite for the further injury ahead. Civ Pro and Torts will be completely open book but rumor has it our Contracts professor has us leave the textbooks and outlines at home and we can walk into the exam room with nothing more than our beloved copies of the Uniform Commercial Code. With mere days left before my classmates and I switch into finals-mode and start functioning merely on caffeine and ambition, you can't really blame me for sleeping in this morning. Exactly one month from now, my first semester of law school will be over. But until then, my opportunities for sleeping late are rapidly receding. Now that I think about it, I think I should start stockpiling on sleep and sanity while I still have some wiggle room. And that means I should probably take a nap after Contracts class today.
A brief reminder of those good ole days BY BRITTNEY PESCATORE '07 October 31, 2007 Things are different on the other side of Homecoming weekend: the weather's colder, the exams are closer, and college seems like another lifetime. While I was a student at W&M, I saw lots of alumni come back for Homecoming. I was pretty sure that I had gleaned an accurate idea of what that weekend was all about: waiting in line for two hours at the Leafe to eventually sit inside with friends comparing war stories from the Real World. I remember a year ago wondering if I would even bother to come back for Homecoming, or if I would be so wrapped up in my new, grown-up, post-college life that a weekend away in Williamsburg would just not be something I could work into my busy schedule. It was only about a month after graduation that I started imagining my return and I've had plane tickets bought since August. I didn't even bother wasting any time waiting in line at the delis, but instead crammed in as many hugs and "How are you?"-s that I could fit into the 40-or-so hours that I and my fellow W&M grads descended on the campus of our alma mater. Being back in Williamsburg seemed natural in a lot of ways. I even spent an hour in Swem working on the memo outline I have due this week and it was as if I never left. I found this feeling simultaneously comforting and very very disturbing. I fielded a lot of questions along the lines of, "How's law school?" Eventually I had crafted a standard reply that seemed to please all who asked. I would acknowledge that the workload was heavy and difficult at times but assure all inquirers that I found the law compelling and the study of it rewarding. It's an honest answer, I suppose, but it suggests a simplicity to my reflection that isn't really there. So, the truth, how is law school? It's okay. It is a lot of work, but it's not an unreasonable amount. Ultimately, it's only as much work as I make it -- there's nothing except my own ambition stopping me from never going to class or doing the reading and just showing up on exam day to wing it. And is it interesting and rewarding? At times. I like when things start to make sense and when I find myself applying what I've learned to the world around me, but there's a lot of dry material that I'd rather not have to deal with. Most of all, I'm just glad to be in school. Being back at William and Mary reminded me just how important it is for me to be around people my own age and have a flexible schedule. For all those I-bankers who somehow managed to sneak away to Williamsburg for the weekend, they had my utmost sympathy as they discussed their painful work schedules. I'll take five hours of reading any day if it means I can still sleep in on Fridays. So how's law school? It's the closest thing I could find to college, but a weekend back at the real thing reminded me that it's still not quite the same. I'm adjusting, I suppose.
BY BRITTNEY PESCATORE '07 October 14, 2007 Now that I seem to eat, sleep, and breathe The Law, I find myself savoring those moments when I manage to escape it. If I allow myself to venture out into the Rest of the World too often, I quickly fall behind on work and lose the momentum that the total immersion provides. From time to time, however, a little departure from the routine of law school is exactly what I need. Sometimes I take a break to watch video feed of the television shows I can't watch on my TV because I'm too lazy to get my cable set up. What shows do I watch? No, you're not going to get me to admit that I race home from Contracts on Thursday afternoons to view the previous night's Gossip Girl. But I will concede that I don't think I could get through the week if I didn't have an episode of The Office to look forward to. Still, watching the occasional television show on my computer doesn't always provide me with the diversion from law school that I need. For that, I turn to the endless opportunity provided by New York City. This week, for example, I made the long and painfully circuitous trip from my apartment in Morningside Heights to the Met museum on the Upper East Side. It was pouring rain and by the time I got to the museum, I was drenched despite the high-quality five dollar umbrella I purchased off a man at the subway station. I don't think my fellow museum-goers did not appreciate the squeaking of my soaked flip flops as I made my way straight to the exhibit that had brought me there. Still, there's nothing like a canvas splattered with bright colors and indistinguishable figures to provide a refreshing change from the rigidity of legal procedure. It's not always the more sophisticated culture of the city that provides my much-needed release. Coming from a town with three bars called "delis" to a city with more bars than Williamsburg has bricks (OK, maybe that's an exaggeration), the New York nightlife is always a welcome distraction after a long week of outlining the Federal Rules of Civil Procedure. There's little as satisfying as stumbling upon a drink special that truly qualifies as a bargain. Occasionally reading a magazine in Bryant Park or traveling all the way to the Village just to have really delicious crepes -- these are some of the other small pleasures that go hand in hand with a law school education in New York City. While I may not get to see as much of the city around me as I do of the interior of Columbia Law School, those well-deserved mini-adventures that pepper my week are just what I need to get me through the rest of it.
BY BRITTNEY PESCATORE '07 September 28, 2007 I just finished my first law school exam. Granted, it was for my pass/fail Legal Methods course, but I still feel a sense of accomplishment. I set my alarm clock for an ungodly early hour to make sure I didn't oversleep, made myself a nice cup of tea, half-heartedly looked over my notes, and headed to the exam room. After four hours of typing away at the front of a giant lecture hall (Mac users had to sit in the front in case our computers exploded while we tried to run the Windows-only exam software), I exited the law school with an odd sense of having gotten past an important hurdle but finding myself on far rougher terrain. Now that Legal Methods is completely over, Law School Phase Two begins, and weekends suddenly start to disappear and casebooks pile up around me. It's Friday afternoon and the undergraduate version of myself wouldn't dare waste a beautiful day like this on anything other than leisure time outside, flipping through magazines or chatting with friends. Law School Brittney, however, has other plans. For her, it's back to the commercial outlines, hornbooks, and excessive highlighting. Civil Procedure isn't going to understand itself.
BY BRITTNEY PESCATORE '07 September 12, 2007 Well, all my fears about the looming increase in my workload have proven well-founded. Suddenly, it seems like every hour of my day is spent either in class or preparing for class or looking up latin legal terms on Wikipedia. I've already established the law school is not quite the same as college, but the past few days have really hit home the fact that I'm currently in new territory. Never before have I felt such pressure to highlight until my fingers themselves turn a fluorescent yellow; never have I had such a need to brief until my very thoughts are organized in terms of Facts, Reasoning, Procedure, etc. Law school is taking over my life, and in many ways it's a very unfamiliar feeling. There is something about law school, however, that is eerily reminiscent of high school. Maybe it's the fact that we get lockers (I'm currently on the hunt for an issue of Tiger Beat so that I can tear out a picture of Justin Timberlake to tape up on the inside of my locker). Maybe it's because there are only about 350 of us and we go through the same three classes everyday with the same group of 90 people. Maybe it's even the way that gossip spreads like wildfire through the 1L class (Did you hear about the guy who wrote a 13-page outline for his memo?). Whatever it is about the hallowed halls of this Ivy League institution that reminds me so much of the crowded, teenager-filled halls of my public high school in south Jersey, I'm embracing it. I got through high school (unscathed? no), and I can get through law school (unscathed? probably not).
BY BRITTNEY PESCATORE '07 August 30, 2007 It's the first week of classes back at W&M and my nostalgia has reached its peak since graduation. One friend back in the 'burg texted me to let me know she was heading to a class with my favorite professor and as I sat hundreds of miles away in a large lecture hall of almost 100 students, I couldn't help but miss the days I sat around an intimate seminar table in Tucker Hall, conversing with a handful of other students and a professor we all loved. I may still be in a classroom, but it's a very different experience. While I like to think I'll always be an English major at heart, I wonder if there will ever be a day where I can once again discuss the postmodern implications of a literary text while chatting with like-minded people. I have a feeling that my classmates and I are far more likely to be sharing case briefs and outlines over the next few years than we are to share abstract ideas on literary theory and observations of intertextuality. That's not to say that law school hasn't been interesting. I've read so many cases over the last few days that I find myself pausing to wonder how a court might interpret my every action; there's a potential for litigation around me every moment. (If lightning cracks and that dog across the street, frightened, runs over to bite me, is the owner liable to pay me damages?) I'm looking forward to next week, when my foundation curriculum starts up and we really dive into what the law is. I dropped several hundred dollars today on more massive textbooks, only to return home to an e-mail from a professor informing the class that there are still more books to buy. As intimidating (and expensive!) as it all is, it's exciting to think that in a few months I'll have made my way to the back cover of "Cases and Materials on Torts," presumably with some understanding of what all the stuff that comes before it means. The large lecture halls and ancient professors have an alienating effect that my William and Mary education did not familiarize me with, but my fellow 1Ls are not the cutthroat, competitive, soulless villains that the rumors had me expecting -- these folks might actually become my friends. And, while the professors only know who I am because they have my photo cut-and-pasted onto a large seating chart which they keep at the podium in front of the class, it's pretty awesome to know that these people standing only a few feet from me are some of the legal heavyweights of our time. I'm ready to learn the law, but I still envy my friend her first day of classes at the College. While it's nice not to have to worry about another registration period where Adventure Games fills up in five minutes or the complete impossibility of making it from Morton to Tucker in 10 minutes (I was an English and government major, so this happened a lot), it would be nice I could have just one more class with my favorite prof, just one more run up Tucker's front steps, and just one of these heavy Torts books replaced by a nice, thin novel.
BY BRITTNEY PESCATORE '07 August 21, 2007 One week of law school, and things aren't too bad. The reading is more intense than I'm used to, but it's nothing I can't handle. The thing is, it's only just begun. Right now I'm in Legal Methods, a five-day-a-week introductory course that ends in September when my main foundation curriculum starts up. Then, I'll be taking Torts, Civil Procedure, and Contracts, along with a once-a-week Legal Practice Workshop that I've already started. Before long, my reading load will substantially increase and my social life will probably disappear. The day before I started school, a friend dropped by to give me a book he had once recommended I read. I looked at the first page or so and was convinced that I would definitely love this book and that reading it would be a profound and meaningful experience. Unfortunately, since then I rarely find myself reading anything not written by a judge or a law professor. In the next few months, that's only going to get worse. This book, sitting on my dresser untouched, has become a symbol of "the other side" to me. When I've made it through my first semester of law school, on the other side of the grueling exams and having braved three months of the Socratic method, I will pick up this book again and read it cover to cover in celebration of my success. Until then, I see tough times on the horizon: Weekends in the library, mornings fueled entirely by caffeine, late nights reading case after case, and a dusty unused MetroCard sitting at the bottom of my bag. While Legal Methods is still in session, life is manageable and I get to spend my weekends doing fun things (like going to Medieval Times this past Saturday) and I have no need for anything other than decaf herbal tea in the morning. It's a deceptively calm time, but the foreboding atmosphere of the law school reminds me not too get too comfortable. Legal Methods, a pass/fail class, is already replete with "gunners," over-eager students who pounce to answer a question that another student is struggling with. Sitting down to have lunch in the school's cafe yesterday, I passed a group of 1Ls who seemed to have already formed a study group. And then there are the weary-looking 2Ls and 3Ls, busy with their job searches but occasionally taking the time to grace my classmates and I with a look of pity. Things may be fine now, but it's hard not to know that the storm is coming.
BY BRITTNEY PESCATORE '07 August 13, 2007 I really like the way law school textbooks look: the gold writing on stern blue and red hardcover spines, the way they all look the same, their intimidating width. I bought my first textbook today and it seems to scream, "Spend thousands more dollars on many, many more of me before you graduate!" Despite the heavy hit to my bank account and the daunting idea that I actually have to read this thing, owning the revised second edition of "Legal Methods: Cases and Materials" seems to make it legit: I'm a law student now. Today was Day One of orientation; one more day and then class begins. I spent all day yesterday wondering if the other students would be friendly, what sort of outfit was appropriate to wear, and whether I should show up just a few minutes late, to be fashionable. Now my worries are understanding the difference (or lack thereof?) between law and equity, trying to understand the federal court system, and hoping I don't run out of highlighter ink before I even complete my first reading assignment. The speakers at orientation all seemed passionate about the study of the law, as did my new classmates. It gave me hope that this year doesn't have to be the academic hell I've read about. While speaking with friends and family, I often get advised to not work too hard, to make time for a social life, to keep perspective. It's nice advice, but today I finally had people telling me to go ahead and throw myself into the law, be passionate about it, learn to love it. That's what I really wanted to hear; that's why I signed up for three more years of school. And so, armed with enthusiasm for learning itself, I dive back into that revised second edition of my legal methods textbook. Oooooh..."The Common Law Doctrine of Precedent." How can you NOT get passionate about that?
BY BRITTNEY PESCATORE '07 August 2, 2007 With August upon us, stores are already displaying their "back-to-school" wares and I can't help but dwell on the coming semester. For many of my friends still at William and Mary, the anticipation means gearing up to serve as a Freshman Orientation Aide for a week, combing through the courses still open on Banner Web, or arranging to buy a bed loft off of a friend making the move to a more spacious dorm. For me, "back to school" is an inappropriate term, implying familiarity and routine; "into the unknown" is a better phrase. "Most likely in way over my head" also seems to apply. I'm feeling the same sort of anxiety I felt four years ago when I first got to college: unsure what to expect, imagining all the nightmare scenarios, becoming increasingly insecure that I'm headed where I belong. All the old uncertainties are there, but now are coupled with a sense that there's more at stake. Already, I find myself stressing about what I'm going to do with this degree that I have yet to earn. I worry that I'll find myself stuck in a job I hate just so I can pay back the loans I took out so that I could have the education I felt I needed in order to have the skills to do any job I want. Confused? Me too. Before I can decide where to sell my soul post-law school, I have three years to get through. I'm starting to wonder how I'll even make it through the first; the horror stories I hear are dispiriting, to say the least. Even the small things have me nervous: will all my classmates be several years out of college, having gained the advantage of experience in the workforce that no textbook can help me overcome? Has my English major only made it more difficult for me to write in the esoteric legalese that will be expected of me? Can I resist the temptations of the city's nightlife and the pleas of my friends with fixed work schedules in order to force myself to concentrate on my studying? I try to remind myself that school is what I'm best at, that as long as I'm in a classroom for a good portion of the day, I know exactly what I'm doing. After all, it's still just exams to take and papers to write - how hard could it be? I guess we'll see.
Meet you at the Grind in 8 hours BY BRITTNEY PESCATORE '07 July 26, 2007 IIve been trying to arrange a get-together for a group of friends from school living in the area, and the difficulty has me nostalgic for the Daily Grind. It was so easy to corral W&M friends together there; its central location and delicious chai lattes made it a popular meeting place. Now I'm hoping to pin down a spot that's not too far from Hoboken, Brooklyn, and the Upper West Side. In Williamsburg, the closest I ever came to this dilemma was when denizens of sorority court lobbied for Aroma's instead of the Grind. This may not seem like a big deal, but the minor inconvenience to my social life serves as a reminder of a much larger problem: my world has grown too big. While trekking an hour to a bar in the Village to meet a friend from Brooklyn is less than ideal, at least there are some friends of mine that I can still meet for drinks from time to time. Many are scattered too far for such simple pleasures, with a sizeable cluster down in D.C. that I can only hope to visit when and if a free weekend emerges. Some have gone abroad for the foreseeable future, making even a phone call a burdensome expense for keeping in touch. Even those still down in the 'burg, just an 8-hour train ride away, seem just as far as those off in England or Japan. It's not just that we're all so far apart; our separation is more than geographic. Our work schedules and real-world commitments eat up our days and seem to kill the batteries on our cell phones. My phone rings less often than it did when those on the other line were just a few dorm rooms away. Granted, there are still e-mails and Facebook and instant messenger to keep us all together, and loyal friends will even send pictures to update me on their latest haircut or new pet. Nonetheless, I miss running into classmates in the Sunken Garden and stopping to catch up with a sorority sister at the U.C. Terrace. And something about the chai at the cafe on the corner just isn't up to par.
BY BRITTNEY PESCATORE '07 July 20, 2007It's been less than three weeks since I got back from Europe, but the glorious tan I picked up in Italy has already faded and the season is speeding by. With not even a month of summer left, more big life-moments are nearly upon me. For one, on Aug.13 I begin my law school orientation. Even more momentous an occasion, however, is another rapidly approaching, long-awaited event. After two years of waiting, the seventh installment of the beloved Harry Potter series is almost here. Harry and I have been in it together for quite some time. When I first discovered the books, I was just entering high school and it seemed that my new surroundings were just as unfamiliar and overwhelming to me as the wizarding world was to Harry Potter. The summer before college, I devoured Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix and found that the more mature tone and the political nature of the central conflict resonated with my desire to think myself an intellectual. I've waited in line at midnight for every book and movie that I could and tonight night will be no exception. I don't think I can move on to the next phase in my life until Harry does too (I have hope that, despite J.K. Rowling's amused intimations, Harry's next phase will involve him being alive). Now lest you think that my devotion to a bunch of books is as sane and enthusiastic as that of most HP fans out there, I feel the need to disclose the extent of my obsession. I don't just anxiously await each film and novel. I've re-read each book countless times. I have a scarf in Gryffindor colors. I own the supplemental books (Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them, Quidditch Through the Ages). I destroyed in the Trivia Game. I own a mug and a fleece blanket emblazoned with Harry's face. I even -- and I can't believe I'm admitting this in a public forum -- religiously followed "fan fiction" (of varying qualities) during a period of time leading up to the release of Harry Potter and The Goblet of Fire. I am loyal to all things Potter and while choosing a law school, submitting my thesis, graduating from college, and going to Europe were all big events of the past few months, this book release just might be the biggest. Part of me is grateful that I don't have to wait any longer for the final book. A small part of me even wondered if I was maybe getting too old to obsess over children's literature. And a large chunk of me is a bit heartbroken that the story is coming to an end. A week from now I'll be on the other side of my biggest attachment to childhood fantasy (what did I want to be when I grew up? not a lawyer, but a witch). What will post-Potter life be like?
BY BRITTNEY PESCATORE '07 July 11, 2007 There's nothing like a 40-hr a week job to make you glad you're staying in school. I've been keeping busy with an internship at a legal newspaper in the city, an experience that's shaping up to be interesting, educational, and ... exhausting. It's not that the workload is too much (at times, it's too little), but the painful routine of waking up at 7 a.m. each morning and not getting back to my apartment until 7 p.m. each night is what does me in. This is my fourth summer in a row subjecting myself to life at an office desk for a few weeks, and each summer I find that I suddenly have renewed admiration for all of my friends who opt to jump right into the workforce post-college. I'll take five more weeks of this and then will someone please put me back in a classroom. The internships themselves have been great; last summer I would actually look forward to going into the office each day. This year I value the opportunity to still stay involved with journalism while simultaneously learning about the law industry. And, I'll admit, I like getting dressed up like the pseudo professional I am. And, although the pay is small, getting paid at all is kind of nice. I'm happy with my decision to spend the second half of my summer working and resume-building instead of lounging at home or giving retail a go. Just as long as I get to go back to school in the fall.
BY BRITTNEY PESCATORE '07 July 5, 2007 Celebrating independence has been the theme of the week. Not only did I head down to Brooklyn yesterday to catch the fireworks display, but I have spent the week basking in my own personal independence. One way that I've attempted to assert my sudden grown-up-ness is by cooking for myself, which has proven to be more difficult than I'd expected. French toast, Spaghetti O's, eggs, microwave pad thai, and toast -- these are just some of the many complex dishes I have managed to screw up over the past week. As exciting as it is to have my own kitchen, it's not going to do me much good until I get a handle on this whole cooking business. Despite my many failures, I remain resolved to master the culinary arts and thus demonstrate the success of my independent life. After all, I can get Spaghetti O's right most of the time and I very rarely burn a bag of popcorn. Healthy living is not out of reach. Today my plan is to make the trip down to the Bed Bath & Beyond on 65th Street to invest in some sophisticated cookware (aka the cheapest pots and pans they'll sell me) and then head to the Barnes & Noble across the street to buy an appropriately dumbed-down cookbook to teach me the secrets of the craft. Before long, I'll be churning out dishes with names that aren't even in English. And if I'm lucky, I won't burn down my apartment in the process.
BY BRITTNEY PESCATORE '07 July 2, 2007 After spending nearly a month in Europe, it's been a bit of a shock to come back to the States and remember that everything I knew the month before has changed. That's not to say there weren't ample reminders of my transitional phase while I traveled; I lost track of the amount of times I was stumped by the simple question, "Where are you from?" At the time, I was from ... nowhere. Saying I'm from Virginia didn't sound right; I was simply a student there for a suddenly all-too-brief four years. Saying I'm from New Jersey seems off, too, since I haven't spent more than two straight weeks there in years. And how could I claim to be from New York when I didn't even have an apartment there yet? No, I was just Brittney Wanderer, a young backpacker with no place to call home. Sounds exciting, doesn't it? Taking the trip was one of the best decisions I've ever made; who knows when I'll be able to pack up and leave the country for over three weeks again? Still, I had to come back at some point and now here I am -- officially a New Yorker, sitting in my very own apartment that I just moved into yesterday. It was weird not having a place to say I'm from, but it's even weirder to have my own place to call home. Right now it looks barren and temporary but I know that over time I will personalize it and get used to it. Nonetheless, it gets lonely very fast in an apartment by myself and I'm grateful for the William and Mary friends I have on speed dial.
BY BRITTNEY PESCATORE '07 June 2007 Here are some photos that Brittney brought back from Europe. Click on the image to see a larger version.
BY BRITTNEY PESCATORE '07 May 28, 2007 It's a weird feeling, being home after having graduated from college. Sometimes it's hard to reconcile the urge to consider myself an adult with the need to live under my parent's roof and thus their rules, even if it's only for one more week. I'm glad to be home and to enjoy all of the luxuries that it provides, but I'm also antsy and anxious to begin a new chapter and start accomplishing something. One of my friends who just made that big move into her own place commented in an email that "life feels kind of different now." It feels very different in some ways, but in a lot of ways, it feels just the same -- and that bothers me. I graduated college and am moving to New York in a month, and yet I find myself sitting around the house doing the same things I do all the time. I guess it's just a transition period and I can't expect much, but I think part of me was always sort of thinking that the moment I got that diploma, my whole life would change. And maybe it will, but I have a feeling that the rest of this week is going to be pretty much the same.
BY BRITTNEY PESCATORE '07 May 23, 2007 It's hard to believe that for the past three days I've been an alumna of the College of William and Mary. Graduation day was exhausting and my favorite part of it was by far the nap I got to take after my parents had headed home. The ceremonies were nice, but at times they felt a little impersonal and when you are sitting there in a sea of black caps and gowns it's hard to shake the one-of-many feeling. When I told this to a friend, she jumped into pep-talk mode and started ensuring me that although there were no medals on my gown to distinguish me from my classmates and no special awards reserved just for me, I had been a distinct presence in her life. It was what I needed to hear. Now I'm taking part in that time-honored post-graduation ritual: Beach Week. A dozen of my friends have joined me at a rented beach house in the Outer Banks and dozens more friends are scattered along the coast line. We sleep late, tan long, and spend far more than the recommended amount of time in the hot tub. It's a nice hiatus from the real world, which we all must join at some point. I'm going to Europe in a few weeks as a way to further delay that moment, but as soon as I shifted my tassel from one side of my cap to the other, it's a moment that has hovered over my head in eerie proximity. It seems ungrateful to be writing about the stress of the future when from the window above the desk where I write at this moment, I can see the waves of the ocean. Maybe today I'll try not to think too much about what's coming up. My tan needs a lot more work, anyway.
BY BRITTNEY PESCATORE '07 May 16, 2007 No more pencils, no more books. Exams are done and I'm a free woman. It's a liberating feeling, but not without its drawbacks. Without a test to study for or a paper to write, I have no excuses left for leaving my overflowing laundry basket alone and for continuing to pretend that I don't even know where the gym is on this campus. I don't have quite the feeling of immense relief that I expected, but it's nice to know that my to-do list is finally do-able. It's also comprised of the kind of commitments I am much more inclined to fulfill: meet this friend for coffee, catch up with these friends at half-price wine night, etc. There's one thing that has to make it on to the to-do list of every William and Mary student at some point before they graduate, and I'm not talking about taking a class in the Wren Building. No, the time-honored tradition I've got on my mind is the completion of the infamous W&M triathlon. At the risk of putting in writing what should only be passed down in the whispered word-of-mouth strategy befitting such legends, the triathlon necessitates streaking the Sunken Garden, jumping the wall to the Governor's Palace, and taking a dip in the Crim Dell. With Part 1 completed long ago and Part 3 falling in the "let's not and say we did" category, my personal fixation is with that middle task. Jumping the wall may sound benign, but illegal trespassing is not so innocent. Some students might tell you not to worry, that no one ever gets caught. I am here to testify that is NOT TRUE. After being escorted out of the maze once by a police officer, I've always wondered when I'd be brave enough to try again. I'm not making any promises, but with no studying left to do, I need something to preoccupy myself with late at night. The law-abiding soul in me might chicken out, but I don't know if I can wear my graduation cap with pride on Sunday unless I at least try one more time.
BY BRITTNEY PESCATORE '07 May 11, 2007 I'm coming up on the home stretch. Some of my classmates are done with finals and have been out every night; others seem to have life-or-death exams every other day. The truth is, despite the two exams, one paper, and one threatening (although nicely color-coded) to-do list hovering over my shoulder, I have trouble fitting into either camp. I'm not done yet, and it feels like those last few days are perpetually just a few days off. Nonetheless, I can't bring myself to care too much about the papers and the exams at this point; I've yet to discern a reason why my grades would matter. The result? An exam-week stalemate, where the delis make me feel guilty but the library makes my head hurt. In what could arguably be called a solution to this stagnation, I have spent more time with my television set over the past three days than I have over the course of the entire year. The escapist programs are just what I need to forget about both the pressure of my assignments and the rapid approach of graduation. I'm sure eventually I'll be hit with the need to soak up every last drop of campus life before I leave, but until then ... pass the remote.
This is the last thirtieth of April of college... BY BRITTNEY PESCATORE '07 April 30, 2007 My friends and I spend a lot of time bemoaning all the "lasts" we find ourselves experiencing lately. Our last spring break passed by a month ago. Our last King and Queens dance was on Friday. Our last Yule Log ceremony seems like it happened forever ago. Today is the last Monday of classes. While we find ourselves dwelling on the big ending coming up, the end of college, we have to pause at every moment to realize what other ending we're experiencing. For the many William and Mary students who spent the last four years over-committing themselves to various student groups and organizations, these sudden last moments pop up far too frequently. This weekend I had one of those instances of sudden finality. The senior members of my sorority carpooled 40 minutes to go to a transition ceremony and tea hosted by the local alumni chapter. We joined another group of seniors from another nearby university and didn't really know how to respond when the other girls started bawling their eyes out at every song, every candle blown out, and every name called. Maybe it should've struck me as a bigger deal -- the last sorority ritual I will ever take part in. What I saw instead, however, were all the smaller endings -- the last time I'll have to dress in all white for a sorority ritual, the last time I'll have to pretend to know the words to these songs, the last time I'll have to line up in "initiation order" with my sorority sisters. It was just another series of closing scenes before the big finale. As the last April of my college life comes to a close, I find myself rushing through these unexpected conclusions, racing toward the big one and wondering if I'll finally get emotional when it's all over.
BY BRITTNEY PESCATORE '07 April 23, 2007 Mmmm. The post-thesis life. It's been good so far. I spent my entire weekend doing absolutely nothing productive. Handing in my thesis on Friday was one of the most satisfying events of my life; when I left the Swem copy center with five bound copies of my 82-page tome in my hand, I teared up only a little. Since dropping a copy off in the mailboxes of my committee members, I have watched pretty much the entire second season of The Office, made a glorious and triumphant return to Facebook, and treated myself to some well-deserved Trellis dessert. It's weird not to be there when the doors to Swem first open in the morning, weird to be able to honor lunch dates with long-neglected friends. Despite the relaxed feeling that turning in my thesis gave me, though, the thesis stress is starting to be rapidly replaced with another sense of urgency. Less than a month to go until graduation, and lots to do. I kind of feel like I should have every lunch from now until May 20th scheduled in order to optimize the time I spend with my friends before we disperse all over the world. Every second I spend in Swem now feels like a memory I am missing out on. So little time and so much nostalgia to prepare for. Goodbye, thesis -- but hello, graduation.
BY BRITTNEY PESCATORE '07 April 18, 2007 On Monday, I accepted my offer of admission to Columbia Law School and sent in my deposit. It sounds like a big deal, to enroll in law school just by a few clicks of my computer mouse, but I'm having a hard time feeling it. My thesis is due this Friday, and so that might be part of the reason; I just can't move on to the next phase of my semester until this is done. This weekend I made a post-thesis "things to do" list. Some highlights include seeing the new Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles movie, catching up on my other schoolwork, and reactivating my Facebook.com account, which I dramatically shut down in order to increase thesis-related productivity. Basically, I'm contemplating getting my life back. All my neglected friends better be ready, because I'm going to need playmates. In three days, the fun begins again.
BY BRITTNEY PESCATORE '07 April 13, 2007
While I spend a lot of my time thinking about all the exciting big things coming up in my life, every now and then I need to dwell on the practical matters associated with impending graduation. I need to buy my cap and gown. I have to return the several dozen library books I've checked out this semester for my thesis. I'm trying to find younger students to sell some of the stuff in my dorm to, including an ancient mini-fridge that has a funny smell I just can't seem to get rid of. The hardest practical matter that I have to face, though, is what to do with my fish. I've had Attila Xavier the Beta fish since the second week of freshman year. My freshman roommate and I bonded over the walk to the pet store and although we no longer live together, we share custody of him (every month or so, we trade off). We picked the fish out because the guy at the pet store said that they were the most durable, long-lasting fish and we had justifiable concerns about our ability to keep a pet alive. We were determined to last the year with our third roommate and were strict about feeding him the recommended amount of food each week. As our hallmates held somber fish funerals in the bathroom of Hunt Hall, we vowed to not treat our beloved pet with the same neglect. When freshman year ended, Attila came home to New Jersey with me, and although he did fall out of his bowl and onto the floor of the car for a few brief minutes, he arrived safe and sound at my home. My roommate and I were proud of having cared for a living thing for so long. We were impressed when Attila lived through sophomore year. Surprised he made it through junior yet. Shocked that the sucker is still swimming today. And now, we're kind of just waiting for it to die. Otherwise, we have to decide who gets to take the fish with them post-graduation and we'll have to find a long-term babysitter when we both go traveling this summer. This may sound mean and morbid, but I think it's one of the healthiest perspectives I have. I'm ready to let go. Of my fish, at least.
BY BRITTNEY PESCATORE '07 April 4, 2007 I absolutely love being a tour guide. April always means huge groups, since many high schoolers are on spring break and we only have so many guides to go around. Earlier today, as I was winding through campus with a group of about 40 prospective students and family members, the rush of commanding the attention of so many was adding to my already enthusiastic demeanor. It's weird to think about the fact that it was once me going on the tour, following the guide along -- at least until my dad and I got anxious and took off exploring on our own. Staring back at a dozen or so high school juniors and seniors, I can't help but think back to the time I was in their shoes. I had high ambitions and demanding expectations of myself and I can't say that all of those expectations were met. For example, I had big plans to take advantage of the gym on campus and that has definitely not happened. It's weird, though, to think of the ambitions I've added. Four years ago, I never thought I'd have any interest in going to law school. I didn't even know I wanted to be a government major; that ambition didn't emerge until I watched a marathon of The West Wing over freshman year's Thanksgiving break. It makes me wonder what will change three years from now, as I approach graduation from law school.
BY BRITTNEY PESCATORE '07 March 27, 2007 During freshman orientation, many, many years ago (almost four), I sat in the theater of Phi Beta Kappa Hall and was told not to expect to get straight As. The speaker seemed to have an understanding of the kind of shock that sort of declaration could register on me and my fellow newly admitted students. Many of us had gotten near-straight As in high school, he acknowledged, but now we were in a pool of our peers and equals. If you take the top 10 percent from every high school and put them in the same school, they can't all still be in the top 10 percent. It made sense, of course, but it was a disconcerting concept. The orientation speaker let the tough truth sink in before offering some words of consolation. You may not be at the top of your class again while at William and Mary, he said, but when you leave here you will once again be part of the top 10 percent, now with a W&M education behind you. I certainly don't have a 4.0, as that man predicted, and am probably not part of the top 10 percent of students at the College. Looking around at my classmates, I can see just what impressive company surrounds me. Tonight I ate in one of the upstairs rooms of the University Center, where a good friend of mine was part of a group raising money for a school in Haiti by selling tickets to a Haitian dinner they had cooked. This past weekend I went to see another good friend perform in a sketch comedy show, where she had the entire room in stitches with laughter. Next weekend, one of my roommates has organized a fancy reception at the Muscarelle Museum for donors to the memorial scholarship for which she and others have spent the last year working to raise money and awareness. I haven't helped Haitian children, have no great comedic talent, and have never started a scholarship. I am amazed by the accomplishments of my peers and am honored just to be able to call them my classmates. On May 20, when we all return to the top ten percent of "The Real World," I'll miss getting to see these friends everyday and marvel at their achievements. That said, I'm looking forward to being able to get those metaphorical "straight As." My friends are amazing, but their success is a little intimidating. Among my classmates here, I can't distinguish myself by saying "I go to William and Mary" since, well, so do they. In a little over a month, I'll be able to say that I went here and have others be impressed by that.
BY BRITTNEY PESCATORE '07 March 23, 2007 Among my classmates who have already lined up graduate schools and jobs for next year, I hear a familiar refrain. One liberated chorus, we declare that we are done with the books and the deadlines and are resolved to sleep in every day and only go to class when we feel like it. In high school, we called this phenomenon "senioritis;" in college, we tend to use the term "practicality." After three and a half years of holing ourselves up in Swem or toiling away at unpaid internships each summer, we've earned our secured futures and don't need to worry about getting an A on tomorrow's midterm or even bothering to read next week's chapters. Forget school, you can find us at the Leafe. At least that's what we've been saying. I know that it's what I always said. But the actuality is less glamorous and involves a whole lot more time in Swem than I ever predicted. For me, a lot of it stems from my unwise (but supposedly rewarding) decision to write an honors thesis. But that still doesn't account for why I still find myself reading a play for my drama class and why my soon-to-be-gainfully-employed-friend was sitting next to me at the computer lab yesterday at one in the morning hammering out a paper. Why are we missing Grey's Anatomy to do our homework and skipping out on Mug Night to study for an exam? What happened to practicality?
BY BRITTNEY PESCATORE '07 March 19, 2007 Hi! My name is Brittney Pescatore and I'm a senior at the College, double majoring in English and government. I don't think it's quite hit me yet that I have to leave campus for good in a little over a month, but I've been busy doing second-semester senior kinds of things -- choosing a law school, writing an honors thesis, and going to the delis. As graduation approaches, both the stress and the excitement of it all are mounting. Some of my friends are getting job offers; some are, like me, trying to figure out what graduate school to attend; and some of the still-jobless are even more unwilling than I am to admit college will be over soon. Over the next month I have to send a deposit into a law school and a bunch of decline forms into others, submit a 75-plus-page thesis, and figure out how I'm going to spend my summer. I like to think that after I defend my thesis and pick a law school I'll finally get to spend every night hanging out with friends, but I guess we'll see. I always thought that the last months of College were supposed to be one big carefree party and, so far, that has proven to be decidedly untrue. Still, while I'm far busier than I ever thought I'd be, it's exciting to think of all the big events ahead. |
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