We chase ambulances because we love

Today saw studying on multiple fronts. First, the law library, in the heart of the concrete bunker that is the Curtis Building. One cannot stay there for too long, as the general dreariness begins to eat away at what little resolve you had before going in. I'm not entirely convinced that the shelter-like building isn't a relic from the Western hemisphere's embarrassing fear of constant, imminent nuclear threat. What I do know is that when those nukes fly over our gloriously unprotected skies, I'll be in the library.

Moreover, study space is hard to come by here, as there are many visiting occupants that aren't even studying law. Some past student "cleverly" dubbed them SNAILS, or Students Not Actually In Law School. I, on the other hand, would venture a more telling acronym that I leave to your worthy minds to piece together: Ancillary Students Surreptitiously Hectoring Our Legal Education Studies.

From there, the studying moved once again to the neighbourhood cafe. It was here I attempted to write - but succeeded at failing - a practice Property exam. In an effort to replicate the actual settings of the exam, I put away all of my notes save for the Land Title Act. This is akin to a knight, preparing for battle, removing all of his armour, and in place of a sword, he holds... the Land Title Act. Parry, thrust, interpret! (Speaking of parry and thrust, check out the comments section of the previous entry for an ongoing debate of the musical variety. En garde Thomas!)

This time around, I studied while listening to Miles Davis' Kind of Blue. Morose listening perhaps, but to listen to anything more upbeat with Property would be, in effect, lying about the subject matter itself. Because so much of Property deals with transfers of land, and because many of those transfers come about via wills, it means there is the underlying and overbearing presence of death.

But are we, as potential lawyers, that class of citizen renowned for its compassion and amity, given time to grieve? No. Our orders are just to divvy up the goods and ride outta town. Sniff. May you rest in peace Lord Barnard of Vane v. Lord Barnard... though you did leave your castle in quite a mess for those children you hated.