Now I'm it.

Mrs. Priest (you may remember her as "The Bride") has started a game of tag, so in the spirit of "why the heck not," here goes:

Ten things for which I am grateful

1. The Captain.
2. My sister.
3. Parents who worked incredibly hard and who sacrificed so much to bring me up in a place drowning in books, music, art, and ideas.
4. Generous, compassionate friends who welcome me into their homes and feed me sumptuous food. (I just came back from the home of one such friend. I'm still thinking about the spread. Oy.)
5. Running.
6. My home church, which raised me as much as my parents did.
7. My imagination, and the capacity to use it.
8. My job. Because I have one, and it doesn't start until January.
9. The security that even though my job doesn't start until January, I'll be able to survive by my brains, my grit, and my ever-growing arsenal of tasty recipes.
10. The Sunday New York Times. It was a weekly ritual at my parents' kitchen table and I look forward to the day when my children can say the same thing.

Okay, now I tag Jenski. Because she LOVES this sort of thing and she's pledged to blog for 365 days in a row so she probably could use some help with ideas. And Lawyer Mom, too, if she wants, though I don't want her to regret having read my blog. (I'm new to this - the novelty hasn't yet worn off.)

Vocabulary

Today in Professional Responsibility, we learned a new word: shackmate. A shackmate is a person who is your intimate (i.e., more than a friend), but to whom you are not legally related (i.e., married).

As in, the California code of professional conduct warns against potential conflicts of interest with your spouse or your shackmate.

San Francisco

...has a sense of humor.

An Honor That Bush Is Unlikely to Embrace

By Jesse McKinley

From the Department of Damned-With-Faint-Praise, a group going by the regal-sounding name of the Presidential Memorial Commission of San Francisco is planning to ask voters here to change the name of a prize-winning water treatment plant on the shoreline to the George W. Bush Sewage Plant.

[See full story here.]

Into every life

Today, I got caught in the rain. Without an umbrella or a jacket. I tried to seek refuge underneath an overhang, but alas, the wind had another idea: horizontal precipitation. Only my belly remained dry - how, I do not know. But everything else was thoroughly wet. As I walked from the bus stop to my apartment, in the rain, I experienced the transformative power of attitude. At that particular moment I was soaked, but soon I would be dry, and soon I would be enjoying these cookies in my apartment.

Because you know as soon as I got home and showered, I made myself some treats. I deserved them.

Good idea?

Today I learned just how little can pass for competence on the California bar exam. Prof. Honigsberg, Superstar, led us through the first of our Performance Tests, where we're given a set of facts and made to write hypothetical memos responding to those facts. The professor began class by sharing some stories, all true, of people who had passed the exam, despite all their better efforts. Since I do not underestimate my incompetence, I still have my nose to the grindstone. (I mean, who wants to be dumber than what I'm about to tell you?) But get a load of this:

1) Several years ago, a woman called up Prof. H and told him about her plan to get a good night's sleep before the exam: she would take half a sleeping pill. When Prof. H expressed his concern she reassured him she often took half a pill without consequence. When she was still awake at midnight the night before, however, she decided to take the other half. At 1am, she was still staring at the clock, so she took another whole pill. No dice. By 3am, she was bouncing off the walls so she popped a third, entire pill - six times her usual dose. That did the trick. By 6am, when her alarm went off, she barely could get up. She took several cold showers, drank two pots of coffee, did jumping jacks, and slumped off to the test site. She later told the professor that she was just conscious enough during the exam to realize she had circled A, B, C, and D for one question. At lunch, she considered giving up altogether. Instead, she made more coffee, did more jumping jacks and finished out the day. The result? Pass.

2) A San Diego man, who already had failed four times, recently called up the professor to ask if he'd be able to provide some one-on-one help. The professor declined because of his demanding lecture schedule. But the next day, a local veterans' association called the professor again to tell him that the SD man was a special case: he was a combat veteran who had suffered brain damage when a grenade had exploded at his feet - couldn't the professor do something? So the professor and the veteran engaged in a sort of correspondence course, with the veteran mailing practice tests to the professor for grading. Because of his brain damage, the veteran read at an extremely slow pace, about eighty minutes to read only a portion of the extensive essay booklet. Prof. Honigsberg instructed him, sternly, to start writing at the end of eighty-five minutes, no matter how little he had read of the essay prompt. They went back and forth like this for several months, the veteran never making it through an entire essay prompt. When the results came out in November? Pass.

3) A couple years ago, a woman was taking a shower on the third day of the exam, slipped and fell, and got a concussion. She passed, too.

So, really, it doesn't take much. The trick, however, is making sure that I have even that little.

Reversion

And I'm back to guilty pleasure music: the Dixie Chicks.

I've had the same song on continuous loop for a half-hour. What is it about the continuous loop that is so comforting?

Make Barbecue, not BarBri

Today the Captain and I performed our civic duty by contributing to Boston's tourist industry. Rather than prepare for our afternoon BarBri class, we instead attended the Phantom Gourmet's BBQ Beach Party at Government Center. (And we took public transportation to get there, of course.) Cooks from as far as Australia came to ply their wares, and we enjoyed the fruits (the ribs?) of their labor.

Yum.


The Captain surveys his options.

Boost

In stark contrast to my predilection for junk music, tonight I am listening to Yo-yo Ma because Ellen DeGeneres reminded me this morning that classical music makes you smarter.

Any little bit helps.

There must be an easier way

...to print all my flash cards.

Notwithstanding my triumphant discovery of printing directly to oak tag, I went back to cutting and pasting. Cutting and pasting, while more time consuming, was not as wasteful as the oak tag.

But it's still so time-consuming.

UPDATE: LABELS. (Duh.)

UPDATE 2: Seriously, the advent of labels has improved my quality of life.

Traveling with someone better

When I was in elementary school, my mother often took me to call on her elderly friend, Viola. Viola was no longer very mobile, but she was sociable. Every time we went over, someone else would be calling on her as well. This might have been because my mother never called Vi ahead of time, but Vi and her company always were glad to see my mother and her two daughters. People got a kick out of me and my sister.

I remember one time in particular, when one of Vi's guests took it upon herself to remind me, at age 10, that I always should "travel with someone better" than I. The point was to surround myself with people whom I admired and who would have a good influence on me. At the time I thought, well, that isn't going to work. If everyone tried to find someone "better," then nobody's going to go traveling; friends can't be mutually "better." Eventually I realized that it wasn't a net game, I just needed to find something worth emulating in my friends.

Since then I have been very fortunate always to have traveled with "better" people. This might be because, well, it's not that hard to be better than I, but I'll hope not. I'll hope instead that I have been blessed with many gifted, compassionate, intelligent friends, not the least of which is the Captain.

There is a downside, however. As you know, the Captain and I are both studying for the California bar. We are both, quite rightly, working very hard. But while I seem to be making little to no progress and freaking out, the Captain is flying through his practice questions and checking up on his fantasy baseball scores. His "better" is that he's...well, exceedingly better.

Harumph.

Thank you!

A friend from law school linked to this blog! How exciting. This is my first real stab at legitimacy. I value her opinion very much because 1) Her blog is great, and 2) She's a professional. Once I figure out how to add a blogroll (it's dinnertime - my tummy governs), I will add hers to the list. It's a great collection of thoughts about law school, the law, celebrity gossip, and (gulp) motherhood. That's right, she's a lawyer AND a mom. Wow.

In the meantime, I will have to mull over various aliases for her. Hm.

Technical difficulties

The enter key on my keyboard just leapt off the bridge.

Luckily I was able to coax it back on, but uh-oh. I plan to take the bar with this laptop. In fact, I already have the bar exam downloaded onto this computer, so I can't buy another just in case.

Pray for this computer. To all your gods.

Glib understanding

In class on Friday, Charlie Whitebread closed his lecture by breaking down the three zones of understanding:

The first zone is where students attend lecture, do their homework, and review fairly regularly. They don't remember every nuance or exception, and were they to be asked a complicated question, they probably would draw up blank. They have gaps in their knowledge, but they have what Prof. Whitebread called, "glib understanding."

The third zone is where students have taken the holes in their knowledge and filled them in. The third zone is where you'll find the 'A' answers in law school, where students have dug deep into the material, wrestled with it, and attained thorough understanding of it.

The second zone, therefore, is somewhere in between. The second zone is a wasteland of partially fleshed out concepts, of questions still unanswered. On the way to gaining third zone understanding, students invariably make mistakes and omit certain details. As they discover their mistakes, these students begin to doubt themselves and to forget altogether what they learned in the first place; they've sat so long with the material but they still can't quite figure it out. The second zone is dangerous.

So the point, Prof. Whitebread said, was never to leave glib understanding. Because that's all we'll need to pass the bar.

Cool.

Lunch box

Shucks. I left my handy-dandy, oh-so-portable lunch box at Harvard. I love that lunch box. It makes me happy because it carries food in it. It's the epitome of a good thing.

Any guesses to whether somebody picked it up after class?

Didn't think so.

Grumble grumble

Today, I finished the Barbri Contracts review with Prof. David Epstein. He was superb.

When we started, I noticed he covered lots of stuff that I didn't learn in Contracts. At the time I thought, "Well, this can't be that important if I didn't learn it in Contracts. This must be one of those lesser-tested subjects."

By the end of the third hour, however, I noticed I had that reaction to the majority of what we were covering. Coupled with the fact that the Captain turned to me and said, "My professor was great. I actually remember most of this stuff."

I should write the Dean and ask for my money back. At least to the extent of how much it cost me to take Contracts.

Holy moly

...it's hot here in Boston. Day 4 of a heat wave and I've folded - I turned on the A/C in my apartment.

I cannot wait until the forecasted thunderstorm arrives. Hurry.

Dorkier than you

I am dorkier than you. How do I know this? Because I just spent twenty minutes figuring out how to print my typed Barbri flash cards directly onto to oak tag. That's right, oak tag. I fiddled with the margins and I re-entered each card so that it would print appropriately on the reverse side. No mismatch of rules and elements here. (Top left on the front is actually top right on the back...I can show you if you want.)

Yesterday I was just cutting and pasting. With glue.

How quaint.

So cute

Said the Captain to me, "The rest of your graduation gift should be coming soon. I'm not gonna say what it is, but don't get a class picture."

The little engine that couldn't

No, not me, the T.

Today I took the T on my way to the gym. I had just spent a "lovely" afternoon in the cool, air-conditioned basement of the Tip O'Neill library (yay, Democrats), and it was time to get active. Halfway to the gym, the T got to the crest of a hill, and then bloop. It just stopped and refused to go any further.

Hey, I understand. When it's 95F and humid, I seldom want to go places, either. But I got out and walked the rest of the way to the gym. And the T never started running again. Sigh.

Summer of Poverty

Last night I booked my flight to the bar exam. I had dragged my feet because I had misread the ticket fares and thought I could fly JetBlue to Oakland roundtrip for $209. Because not long ago, I could have flown JetBlue to Oakland roundtrip for $209.

Not any more. Because this is the Summer of our Discontent. The most affordable flight, without unreasonable stops, was $490. I went to bed depressed.

And now I'm just generally anxious. The Captain's still looking for work, my job doesn't start until January, and somehow I need to pass the bar exam in the meantime. Add to that that we still don't know where we're going to be come September, and you've got one very worried little blogger. We won't starve, but I'd still like some form of security. That would be nice.

Until we get that, I suppose I should focus on the positives. This morning I noticed just how much more I had been spending per month on gas. (If you drive, you don't want to know.) My transportation contest, it seems, is resulting in real savings. That's cool.

Mnemonic Devices

Erwin suggested that we create mnemonic devices to help us remember things for the bar.

I am so creative.

To wit, the five requirements for expert witness opinion:
Quail race from Republican hunters.

(Qualified witness, reasonable degree of certainty, factual basis, reliable principle reliably applied, helpful to jury)

Observation

Yesterday, I rode the bus to the Captain's house. It took me about forty-five minutes, including a transfer. Given that it can take me up to thirty minutes driving, I'd say the bus wasn't that bad.

What made it interesting, though, is that I saw more minorities on my bus than I have just about anywhere else, at least outside an organized "students of color" event. The truth was startling. It made me wonder, Where do I hang out, that it's taken me three years to see more than three minorities in one place at one time? Who are my friends? Where do we work? As much as I wanted to think that the United States is a prosperous nation that's become more and more egalitarian, the reality is that there is a color to money.

And then it occurred to me: these people I ride the bus with, they probably do it everyday. It's not some fun eco-experiment/lovers' bet that they're trying. They have to take the bus. They depend on the Massachusetts Bay Transportation Authority to deliver them to work and to school so they can provide for their families. If a bus breaks down or is late, that can have heavy consequences.

That truth startled me even more.

Avoidance

Today, I avoided BarBri by taking out my violin. The last time I voluntarily took out my violin, I was trying to escape from my 1L exams. The time before that, I was stuck in a typhoon without running water or electricity.

So that gives you an idea of just how bad it has to be before I break out the strings.

Public transport

Every morning, I ride the bus to Barbri school. As does the Captain. [FN1] Since an unlimited-ride pass costs only $59 each month, and since filling up on gas costs just as much each week, the Captain and I have decided to see how long each of us can go without driving our cars.

And like any functional couple, we've made it a competition. I don't know what the prize is, but it'll be good. Especially once I win it.

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FN1. I've tried renaming him - it won't work. He appeared first as the Captain, and now the name's stuck among our friends. So the Captain he remains.

The rumors are true

Studying for the bar has permitted me to observe that mythical, oft-rumored creature: the Harvard law student. They are the stuff of books, movies, even peer-reviewed journals.[FN1] Even though I've lived in Boston the last three years, I never have had much exposure to them - they're over the river. But now I am up close and personal, as I watch movies with them five days a week.

I have not been impressed. Several days ago, I tripped in the classroom and wiped out in a most spectacular fashion. I landed at the feet, literally, of a Harvard law student.[FN2] But even though I lay there in front of her, she uttered not a word. Not a single word. I was stunned. Had I tripped at BC, even the person on the far side of the room would have asked if I were okay. Had I tripped at BC, even the meanest, most self-centered person at least would have pretended to care.

At Harvard, not so. How disappointing.


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FN1. Ms. Bee once sent me an article from a psych journal which said that a large proportion of Harvard students are clinically depressed after their first semester exams. Like, actually diagnosed.

FN2. I'm not kidding about our proximity. She could have kicked me without much effort, I was so close.