While standing inside the college secretary’s office on Friday passing some admission requirements, I felt something inside my chest explode as if a dam had broken, and exultation flooded through my body down to the last of my hairs on my pinkie toe. I would rather not look back to February when, driving quietly on a dark and starry highway, a dear, dear friend from work texted the most incredulous bit of news: I had passed the entrance exams for the sole law school that I had applied for. My poor mind does somersaults every time I prod that memory, or of the frantic 60-to-180 kph driving speed increase to verify the info at the nearest Internet connection, or of the HECK-NO-ARE-YOU-FREAKING-PULLING-MY-LEG-MR.-WEBMASTER moment I actually saw it on the college homepage with my similarly unbelieving (I would say even a tad bit more than myself) but on-the-whole supportive sister peeking breathlessly over my shoulder. I would rather not remember, because I would be entering a mental institution instead of an academic one. I will remember fondly, however, my extreme anxiety in taking the test that I arrived rather early for the examinations. I was so early I arrived at the examination venue a week before it started. Still, the thought of actually entering law school has sobered me up some, and I know that the challenges of the future are, to date, the greatest ones of my existence.

There have been so many circumstances that had seemingly conspired to bring me to this point, some of them at turns heartbreaking, delightful and even mystifying. I’ll share with you, my dear reader, one of the most eerie. When my mother was a single, bespectacled and rail-thin lass, her father told her that in one of her pregnancies, she would dream of him, and that the baby would be a boy. And that he would become a lawyer when he grew up. How’s that for cold logic? I almost wish my mother hadn’t told me because now I would have to battle with the Fates and the memory of my grandfather in addition to the law school gods. (Can you tell I’m excited to see the Clash of the Titans?) Now, I think my younger brother still has two years ahead of him to decide to become a lawyer himself in case I trip up. But I digress.

I’ve actually been practicing getting only three hours of sleep for three days straight in preparation for reading cases during all-nighters. Okay, maybe I could get taken off the enrolment list for saying something as smart as that. But reading the news about the express disregard of the Constitution through the Supreme Court ruling for midnight appointments and the flipflopping on the FASAP case, I can hardly wait for school to begin. I love a good fight when I see one. This June, my friend, all bets are off.

Koala is not a bear but a marsupial
Koalas have a slow metabolic rate due to their high-fiber, low nutrient diet. Because they store little or no fat, koalas must adopt strategies that conserve energy. Sleeping is one of them.
Koalas sleep for up to 16 hours per day in order to conserve energy.
A very slow metabolic rate optimizes its energy requirements and allows koalas to retain food within their digestive system for a relatively long period of time, maximizing the amount of extracted energy.
The young koala drinks only mother's milk for the first six to seven months.
At about 30 weeks, it begins to feed upon a substance called "pap" which the mother produces in addition to milk. Pap is a specialized form of droppings, which forms an important part of the young koala's diet, allowing it to make the transition from milk to eucalyptus leaves.
Pap is soft and runny. It allows the mother to pass on micro-organisms from her digestive system.
The young koala continues to take milk from its mother until it is about a year old, but as it can no longer fit in the pouch, the mother's teat elongates to protrude from the pouch opening.
Eventually young koala begins to feed upon fresh leaves as it rides on mother's back.