in the throes of text books and text messages, loan statements and bar tabs, social democrats and fiscal republicans, my last few reflections have lost sight of why twenty-nothing was originally established -- to explore and pursue what's really important: getting laid. growing up and going down.

as my decision about whether or not to exercise my law school deferral option looms closer, i'm reminded to think about the fundamental reason why people go to graduate school.

as a profakesional, i could not wait to get to a life of world traveling winter breaks, sleeping late, drinking savvy alcohol, setting my own schedule, and not having to deal with the abundant stupidity inevitably found in the (nonprofit) workplace.

i was excited to begin the journey from immature professionalism to what i hope will be an undubiously successful career.

but what no one told me about graduate school is that -- actually -- i'm up earlier and in bed later. or that mingling among stupid people makes me appear infinitely smarter. or that binging on alcohol makes my tolerance higher, my jeans tighter, and my liver weaker. or that finally having time to travel doesn't mean i actually have the money to do so.

and if last night's passing out naked on my bed with the shower running and all the lights still on is any indication that i'm growing up, then it is very clear to me that i'm ... growing down.

since it's taken me the vast majority of today to get over my margarita-martini hangover, i decided that this evening warranted a reexamination of the foremost study of twenty-something-ness: drop dead fred.

the movie is about a mid-twenties dippy girl revisited by her childhood imaginary friend who helps her escape a world that demands absolute perfection when her life starts falling apart. while lizzie works to sort out her life, fred tags along causing mischief, and gradually helps her break free from the domineering relationships that threaten her growing up and into her own.

so given how difficult business school has been for me, the thought of continuing to promote my mediocrity in a world of judgmental superiority by going to law school makes me cringe. essentially, what drop dead fred suggests is that were i just a half-measure less sane, i'd need -- or already have -- an imaginary friend to confront this world that promotes flawless excellence.

conventional wisdom suggests that graduate school is a good idea if one wants to develop an expertise in a particular vocation or is deeply interested in a particular subject ... or is trying to delay real bills and real responsibilities in the real world.

and if only one of the conventional criterion must be true for graduate school to be considered a good idea, than i have no other choice but to accept my law school fate. (in compliance with criterion number three, naturally.)

but what deeply worries me is the academic sustainability, mental endurance, and physical fortitude required to survive another three-and-a-half years at harvard. although the people i've met in business school defy the harvard stereotypes by being only partially competitive, only somewhat snobby, and only slightly self-confident, i worry that the above-average intellect but below-average sociability found in law students will overshadow the enjoyable part of the twenty-something graduate school experience.

because what drop dead fred teaches us is that during the toughest times in life, friends help us be our very best. and that it is incredibly important that we feel loved -- even while descending into madness. and that maybe, in the end, the line between reality and fantasy isn't as clear-cut as we'd like to believe.

... at least -- i would argue -- not as clear cut as the line between margaritas and dirty martinis should be.