A story in yesterday's Times about gratuitously hot Prozac Nation author Elizabeth Wurtzel professed to be about how she's in law school now, but obviously the big news is that she is forty. Forty. Which makes her not only old, but older than 90% of her classmates at law school, so instead of being the hot ex-rock critic crazy party girl of Yale Law '08, she's sort of like that woman who grew up in a small town and had kids too young and then divorced her husband and raised them alone through some grueling 20-hour days while she worked three jobs and put herself through night school and made it through sheer triumph of the human spirit into Yale Law, only not inspiring. In other words, you know, she sorta looks forty, not that there's anything wrong with that. Oh, and also, she will be working to protect intellectual property, at the catchily-named firm WilmerHale.
Because now that anyone with a shady doctor and a Livejournal account (or, ha ha, a job actually doing this for a living) can spew out uppers-addled rants weaving together Amy Fisher and Madonna and cutting and crying fits and her own sad, sad, sad life as an incredibly hot and intelligent young writer, it's important we preserve the laws that seal her status as the very first? Because getting a 160 on her LSATs wasn't good enough for the ACLU? I don't know; suffice it to say this story was depressing, but in a kind of overall, non-specific way. That kind of feeling where you don't know quite what's wrong with all this, and that almost makes it worse, and then the whole thing becomes an unending spiral of "I hate myself because I hate my life and it's so hateful that someone like me should hate her life because I have no real reason to hate anything about it which oh god just makes it so much WORSE..." Anyway, there are supposedly drugs for that.
Coming Soon: 'Law School Nation'? [New York Times]