Rambling

I'm writing from a new refuge, a large room with angled walls and tiny, arched windows. A narrow, curling staircase leads from the second floor up to the attic that I share with my lovable roommates; this out-of-the-wayness of the space, combined with an abundance of unusual corners and curious nooks, gives me the feeling that I'm Anne of Windy Poplars, or perhaps a less confined Rapunzel, sending secret messages from my eyrie to the ones I love.

This is the last day before school begins in earnest: the introductions were covered last week and tomorrow is the day the hammer falls. There's a saying in law school, old but true (or so I'm told), that in the first year they scare you to death, in the second year they work you to death, and in the third year they bore you to death. The description of first year was fairly accurate; we'll see whether the cliche holds true for second year as well.

I find that I've lost the habit of settling into a place. My things are strewn around the room, not because I like chaos but because I'm beginning to feel that it's hardly worth taking the time to find a place for anything. In a few months, it will all go back into the suitcases and boxes and move with me to the next place. If I plan on remaining a nomad for a few more years I'm going to have to get rid of some of my books.