California Citrus

When I was little, I hated falling asleep in the back seat of the car. More specifically, I hated the feeling of drifting off---not all the way there, but too tired to keep my eyes open---while everyone else remained awake. Hearing hushed whispers of "I think she's asleep" from the front seat made me feel self-conscious. I'd bolt up defiantly and say, "No I'm not!"

When I stayed at my grandparents' house in Bombay during elementary school summer breaks, my cousins and I would sleep in the cramped living room with our parents. One night, after my closest cousin and I were put to bed, warm light and boisterous laughter continued to emanate from the apartment's singular bedroom down the hall. We pleaded with our Cool Aunt to let us stay up and join the adults' festivities. "Try to sleep for fifteen minutes, and if you're still awake, then you can join," she said. I soon fell asleep.

The next morning, I was disappointed to have missed out. But when I found out my cousin had stayed up and joined the adults, I was furious. The fact that she hadn't woken me up felt like the ultimate betrayal. We were supposed to stick together (no matter that she was four years older than I was, and probably had an even greater motive to feel more adult than I did.) 

For as long as I can remember, I've felt a quiet desperation not to miss out on the things in life I think are worth doing. I wouldn't exactly describe it as FOMO---I can pretty easily say no to things I don't really want to do in favor of spending time by myself---but more so a despair over never having enough time or energy to live to the "fullest" extent I want to, whatever that means.

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Today, I went to an orange grove with my roommate and a friend from her graduate biology cohort. The two of them chatted about their research---sea lions and bats, respectively---and the social schism between themselves (ecology and evolutionary biology students) and the cell and molecular bio students. "They're so cutthroat," they lamented. "They care more about being the first to publish than actually learning new things." (I didn't mention that my mom is a cell biologist.) 

I learned that nearly 50 percent of bats have cleft palates and scientists haven't really bothered to figure out why. After Greta (the bat scientist) told me about her work, I excitedly pulled the book I'm currently reading, Carmilla, out of my tote bag and showed it to her. It has bat illustrations all over the cover. "I love that book!" she said. "I originally picked it up because of the cover." We then had a lengthy chat about our favorite gothic novels. 

When the conversation turned back to school and other everyday annoyances, Erika (my roommate) and I told Greta all about our awful neighbors who use a red solo cup as an ashtray and talk loudly on our shared balcony at all hours of the day and night. I complained about how cliquey law school can feel, even despite being at one of the categorically chiller schools in the country. I brought my iPad along for the hour-and-a-half long car ride to do my Civil Procedure readings. While the rest of UCLA, including Erika and Greta's department, is on the quarter system and just started their classes, the law school operates by semester and started back in August. I've already cycled through complete overwhelm, naïve determination, cautious optimism, and resigned exhaustion more times than I can count.

At the orange grove, we purchased a 25 pound bag of oranges from a farm stand and split it three ways. We also picked up some prints, postcards, and other goodies to remember our trip by. I picked out a postcard without looking too closely; I liked it because something about it felt comforting. On the car ride from Riverside back up to LA, I gasped when I read the description on the back of the card: "Labels were glued on the end of crates and shipped to East Coast market places by rail." The picture on the front of the postcard was of Fanueil Hall!

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So far in law school, I've been---to put it professionally---kind of fighting for my life. If I don't account for every minute of the day (and I don't, because I still foolishly surrender to minor spontaneities like taking the scenic route home or stopping in the hallway to chat with a new friend after class), I struggle to finish my reading before midnight. Then I'm drowsy and lethargic in class the next day. Last week, though, I finally started getting good sleep again. But I have two assignments due this weekend, so I fucked up my sleep schedule again last night working on them. (Now I'm procrastinating finishing those assignments by writing this blog post.) 

I went to bed last night knowing I'd feel exhausted after the orange grove today. And I am. But I'm still glad I went. It was one of the best days I've had in a while, but I also know my body can't push past a certain amount of chronic over-exertion. I'll be paying the price for my "day off" by losing sleep again tonight, probably. The cycle is so frustrating. Even just deciding how to spend my time has become completely draining. I'm determined to maintain the hobbies, interests, and social connections that keep me feeling like my whole, true self, but I also want to go outside of my comfort zone and be open to experiencing new things. I have to accept that, at the moment, I can't really do any of those things to the extent that I might like to. But I'm too stubborn to sit with that right now.

Digression: I'm aware that I'm making law school sound horrible. Overall, I really am grateful for the experience I'm having. My professors are genuinely kind people who want us all to learn and succeed, and my classmates are, on the whole, awesome (even if a choice few of them ask inane hypotheticals that make my eyes roll all the way back into my skull at 9 in the morning). I feel like I'm in the right place and I'm excited (albeit scared) about what the next three years will bring. I don't want---nor do I intend---to pay for this opportunity with my physical or mental health. But I'm still finding that balance.

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Because I was so tired by the time we were on our way back from the orange grove, I decided to shut my eyes in the back of Greta's car. She and Erika were having a conversation about their ambitions after grad school. Both care deeply about improving access to education -- Greta wants to teach in her mother's home state of West Virginia and Erika wants to teach at a state school in California. There were points in the conversation where I felt myself wanting to jump in and passionately add my two cents. But I let myself rest, and in turn I learned more about the two of them than I otherwise would have. For the first time, I actually enjoyed feeling like a fly on the wall.

I never actually fell asleep, but I must've gotten close. At some point, I heard Erika turn around and say, "Oh, oops, she's asleep." And even though I wasn't, I didn't even think to correct her.

With teeth, love, and 10 alarms each morning,

Anika

P.S. - My current favorite songs:

1. Castles Made of Sand - Jimi Hendrix

2. Jungle - Jimi Hendrix

3. I'd Rather Be with You - Bootsy Collins

4. Day Dreaming - Aretha Franklin

5. Dreaming About You - The Blackbyrds