Diary of a 1C
I started my first day of school, and boy, it's hard to even describe the scene. I've never seen such intensity among a group of students: everyone here is willing to put it all on the line to achieve their dreams.
The professors are a real trip. They're all consummate professionals and dedicated instructors, but at the same time I can see in many of them a certain emotional instability that threatens to erupt at any moment.
There are a lot of people out there who are terrified of those who have entered my chosen profession. I don't blame them. My fellow students put on a happy face every day, but at heart most of them are cutthroats and killers. Society should be happy that they are given an appropriate outlet to vent their rage as part of their job instead of letting it out in spurts of violence on our streets.
The pressure is enormous. Very few of us will really "make it" in the business. Many more of us will end up living in the gutter and getting perpetually drunk between bouts of schizophrenia. And I have no illusions that all of us will even live through this hell long enough to see graduation day. There is no question that whatever happens, I will come out of this experience a changed person. But somehow, damn it all, I know deep down that I'm going to knock 'em dead here at Clown College.