I. fortune cookies


Starting a new project as of today. Each week, I’m going to try to post a picture accompanied with short prose about an event, a passing encounter, or a mood.

Currently the last week of 1L. S and I took a practice exam, and fatigued by the intensive fact pattern, we decided to head over to this Chinese restaurant before returning to the library. It’s the kind of gimmicky establishment adorned with red lanterns at the entrance and ornate gold tablecloth overlaying circular tables spread throughout the spacious (but mostly empty) interior. A tourist trap for the Greenwich Village passerby, or perhaps a pit stop for the drunken crowds swelling in and out of the bars on West 3rd. It’s the kind of place you stumble upon without forethought, because you meandered too far into this area or you forgot to make a reservation at a Yelp-approved venue in the East Village.

It’s the kind of place that gives out golden-orange colored fortune cookies wrapped in plastic that read “Fortune Cookie” with a depiction of the fortune cookie on the front. And when you crack open that fortune cookie, there is a fleeting exhilaration of revealing the unknown contained in that small token of cultural idiosyncrasy — only in America. Then you share the profound wisdom printed onto that thin, white rectangular piece of paper with your friend, and after exchanging the wisdom you’ve gleaned from these valuable documents, you both ponder over the poignancy of its words.

I don’t know if my fortune will ring true. I’m two exams away from finishing this long, challenging year. Perhaps the profound wisdom that this fortune cookie has really taught me is that I can share the fortune with the best companions. After scoffing at our fortune cookies, S and I went back to the library, struggling together over our practice exam and sounding like two crazy girls postulating over criminal law. If I could rewrite that fortune, it’d probably read instead: “You are lucky because you have chosen great companions.”



It’s June


— John Steinbeck

I’m not feeling particularly poetic today. My prose will render itself exhausted of all lyrical possibility, as my mind is utterly ravaged from the ceaseless beating of That-Which-Shall-Not-Be-Named. It was a beautiful and glorious day, and the physical embodiment of such promise and warmth is a stark contrast to the brutal mental exercise that has occupied my world for months.

June. A year later and still I wander adrift, but perhaps with more purpose and direction. I’m thankful, so thankful, for the path I’ve traveled and the encounters I’ve been fortunate to experience along the way. I feel so incredibly lucky to have such bright and passionate friends who support me — and especially, for expressing the voice of reason when I become overloaded with irrational sensibilities, which is almost always the case. I feel lucky to embark on adventures of leisure, and to carelessly indulge my fantasies of a twenty-something.

June, June, June. So full of opportunity, of promise, and brimming with passion.