Once More With Feeling

The nice thing about my life right now is that it's predictable. I wake up about an hour after my alarm goes off and finish up the reading for my first class of the day. I stumble down the street to the Metro; I try to avoid running directly into the other bleary-eyed commuters (and, predictably, I fail). A comforting rhythm emerges.

In class, I'm sometimes silent and sometimes talkative. When I contribute, I'm sometimes insightful and sometimes embarrassingly inarticulate. I type like a madwoman for two straight hours and then it's over.

How to break the monotony? In the rush of my daily life, I find myself in a situation that my dad used to speak of with horror--I'm waiting to get my ticket punched. I've somehow lost the passion that governed my first year of law school: the excitement has dulled; the passion has lapsed into routine. (I am talking about law school, right?)

Flashing moments remind me of what I'm waiting for--being able to help a friend in need; understanding controversies; providing assistance to others at a more useful level. I know that when it's over, I'll be glad.

So what am I complaining about? As with most things, Joss Whedon said it best.

I want the fire back.