POST-EXAM DETOX

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CURRENT STATUS: PHASE II

PHASE I

The subject sleeps well into the afternoon; indulges in legumes, seasonal fruits, sensuous tisanes, and homecooked late summer dinners; legally downloads feel-good bubblegum tunes in lieu of the angst-ridden mechanical grind that has loyally accompanied midnight walks from study venues to the car; burns calories trying on outfits in as many stores as she can fit into her now daily shopping routine; and frequents the local Blockbuster for the "five movies, five days, five dollars" deal, so she can waste away the evening watching all the good flicks she missed out on in the 80's--laughing loudly after every clichéd one-liner.

PHASE II

Phase II takes charge 5-7 days into detox. It's a period of unrest as the subject awaits her grades. It begins when she makes a binding oral contract with God in which she promises to execute a multitude of charitable acts if she passes all of her classes--any breach of which will be just cause for eternal damnation in hell, disillusioned that hell could not be worse than the 30 multiple choice and 4 excruciatingly long essays she effectuated in 3 hours for "Sales and Negotiable Instruments." The unrest is quickly shadowed by a rapid decline in her pursuit of self-efficacy. Suddenly, the five movies are returned on the sixth day, and if asked
why she returned them late she might respond with a stark "Make your lips touch." or, "Who do you think you are, my mother??!!"--when it really is her mother. Friendly e-mails and spam awaiting its delete go unread, while the voicemail operator warns her callers that they cannot leave a message until she empties her message box. In the meantime, she is lying in bed half-reading motivational books such as "The Five People you meet in Heaven," searching through newspapers for an intelligent comment to make at dinnertime, or simply staring at the tileless (hence, uncountable) ceiling, because staring at the 8 gargantuous Michigan Bar Review books on her desk, in hope that her fingers by their own volition would open one, serves futile. The subject then grows aware of her complacency, at which point existential questions form in her mind: "If I am but one salt crystal in a vast sea of people, what difference does it make whether or not I recycle my plastic milk cartons?"

PHASE III

"But if everyone stopped recycling?" Phase III is Recognition and Rehabilitation. The subject realizes that the unopened business mail on her desk is not a pile of Christmas cards from her creditors. She knows that the "Bewitched" theme song is her Verizon ringtone alerting her of an incoming call and not a Nick-at-Night rerun blaring from the downstairs television. Week 1 assignments are due in two weeks, if she attacks now she could enter her last semester with a deafening bang of victory, if she waits until the last weekend, she'll walk the ranks of the disheveled, unshowered, pathetic, whimpering, "I'm on academic probation because I drink too much" law school burnouts. The subject's motor skills are stimulated by thoughts of defeat and fear of answering in shame to a much higher power, her father.