YIKES.
Earlier in the week I told the Captain I'd need to occupy myself - heavily - the day the bar results came out so I wouldn't be a complete wreck. He thought that was a good idea, so in a little bit we're headed out to the National Portrait Gallery and the Air & Space Museum. As much as I love renegade portraits of Stephen Colbert, however, it doesn't eliminate the fact that I've had a chronic, low-grade anxiety all week. I didn't realize it at first, but sometime on Wednesday I noticed that my neck was stiff and sore. Since I haven't been hunched over a book for nearly four months, I knew something was up. Then I noticed yesterday some other bodily manifestations of anxiety, and I figured it out: I'm freaking out. November 21 has been burned into my mind for the last several months, and it's finally here. At the moment I'm sitting in a cafe trying to upload some videos of the Genius' choir concert two nights ago, and I'm so wigged out I don't even care that everyone around me can 1) see I am blogging, and 2) read what I'm blogging.
YIKES.
Showing posts with label bar. Show all posts
Showing posts with label bar. Show all posts
Friday, November 21, 2008
Thursday, November 20, 2008
Friday, September 26, 2008
Badge of Honor
There is a lot of time between taking the bar and starting my job. To kill all this time, I chose to run a marathon. Some people travel, some people stay on the couch, but I, I chose to run twenty-six miles. Because I wanted to.
This makes me wonder about myself.
It takes a certain amount of nerve to run a distance associated with a soldier who died after running it. It also takes a certain amount of denial, which I am not so sure is different from nerve. When my knees and my ankles ache at the end of the run and when I barely can climb the stairs at the end of the day, for example, I practice a form of denial.
Whatever.
The marathon is at the end of October, and I have been training since...not enough ago. But I’ve been working hard and I have the hat to prove it. I almost don’t want to wash it.
This makes me wonder about myself.
It takes a certain amount of nerve to run a distance associated with a soldier who died after running it. It also takes a certain amount of denial, which I am not so sure is different from nerve. When my knees and my ankles ache at the end of the run and when I barely can climb the stairs at the end of the day, for example, I practice a form of denial.
Whatever.
The marathon is at the end of October, and I have been training since...not enough ago. But I’ve been working hard and I have the hat to prove it. I almost don’t want to wash it.
Thursday, September 18, 2008
In Memoriam
The legal world has lost a shining star.
Charlie Whitebread was a legend, a very present help in times of trouble (i.e., BarBri). Without him, I never would have known about glib understanding, and this blog never would have had all the traffic it had.
Thanks, Charlie.
Charlie Whitebread was a legend, a very present help in times of trouble (i.e., BarBri). Without him, I never would have known about glib understanding, and this blog never would have had all the traffic it had.
Thanks, Charlie.
Monday, August 11, 2008
How to Wait
When I was in seventh grade, a long-time family friend showed me a fortune he had saved in his wallet. "The secret to patience is doing something else in the meantime," it read. The tasteless cookie long gone, its message endured, not only in my friend's wallet but in my impressionable twelve year-old mind.
Sixteen years later, I find myself in a situation where all there is left to do is wait. Accordingly, I have started looking for Something Elses. When I first returned from the bar I was content to let my mind rot by engaging it as rarely as possible. Continual viewing of the Olympics was conducive to that, and I did my best to keep it going. And it wasn't even the fact that I found myself watching online streaming of equestrian eventing that suggested I might want to use my brain once in a while.
No, it was my continual BarBri nightmares which convinced me that "doing something else" required actual doing. One night it was Richard Conviser himself, reminding me of what's required for injunctive relief. The next night was David Epstein, making fun of Richard Conviser to drive home the sales of goods rules. The third night I deliberately had too much wine with dinner so I'd be too busy peeing all through the night to have time for any nightmares.
Thinking I had started down the road to alcoholic self-medication, I have since resolved to do other stuff. So far I have I cranked up the speed in the kitchen (I have a lot of butter and flour left and it needs to go), gotten a haircut, taken my bike in to be fixed, finished Jhumpa Lahiri's Unaccustomed Earth (you must read this), began Min Jin Lee's Free Food for Millionaires, and weighed the pros and cons of taking a Duck Tour.
Oh, and laughed heartedly and appreciatively at the NYTimes' fashion police. Good taste is universal.
Sixteen years later, I find myself in a situation where all there is left to do is wait. Accordingly, I have started looking for Something Elses. When I first returned from the bar I was content to let my mind rot by engaging it as rarely as possible. Continual viewing of the Olympics was conducive to that, and I did my best to keep it going. And it wasn't even the fact that I found myself watching online streaming of equestrian eventing that suggested I might want to use my brain once in a while.
No, it was my continual BarBri nightmares which convinced me that "doing something else" required actual doing. One night it was Richard Conviser himself, reminding me of what's required for injunctive relief. The next night was David Epstein, making fun of Richard Conviser to drive home the sales of goods rules. The third night I deliberately had too much wine with dinner so I'd be too busy peeing all through the night to have time for any nightmares.
Thinking I had started down the road to alcoholic self-medication, I have since resolved to do other stuff. So far I have I cranked up the speed in the kitchen (I have a lot of butter and flour left and it needs to go), gotten a haircut, taken my bike in to be fixed, finished Jhumpa Lahiri's Unaccustomed Earth (you must read this), began Min Jin Lee's Free Food for Millionaires, and weighed the pros and cons of taking a Duck Tour.
Oh, and laughed heartedly and appreciatively at the NYTimes' fashion police. Good taste is universal.
Thursday, July 31, 2008
Waiting game
And now, I wait.
When the head proctor called time this afternoon, the entire room broke into applause, and even our normally stoic proctor had to crack a smile. She let us blow off a little steam, then continued with her closing instructions. A few moments later, I was free to go.
Those first few moments after the exam I was so overwhelmed I didn't even know it. I was drained and exhausted - too spent even to realize that I was done. When I called my mother, she kept trying to get me to say I felt good about it, but I wouldn't, couldn't commit. It's all out of my hands, but neither do I want to tempt fate.
In the meantime, a few reflections from my week here in Oakland:
1. Bad fashion knows no bounds. I understand that we are taking an excruciating exam and that we are stuck in a convention center, cattle-style, for six hours a day. Still, I find that no excuse to wear velour sweatsuits, even if they do say "Juicy" on the butt. Even if someone spent hundreds of dollars on her velour outfit, she's still wearing sweatpants. In public. People can, and should, do better than that.
2. Oakland is the city in which to take the bar. The convention center is located downtown, right in the middle of plenty of places to eat and places to stay. When I took the BarBri MBE in Boston, the test was at the Boston World Trade Center, which is located next to nothing. Nothing. The Massachusetts bar at least permits its applicants to bring food into the exam (California's does not), but if given the option, I'd want to get away from test site during lunch. And get away I would, if only to sit in my hotel room for an hour and a half to veg. At dinner I'd collect with my friends in the lobby of my hotel and walk to one of any number of fun places to eat. (Tonight, Thai. YUM.) I even found the time to run (are you surprised?), and the hotel staff directed me to a lovely lake just a five minutes' run away. So if you're taking the California bar, and you want to use your laptop, take it in Oakland. (There's even a grocery store next to the test site. I got a fridge for my room and stocked it full of fresh veggies.)
3. There's value to registering early. I registered not four hours after registration was available, and as a result I was seated in the very front row. I took the test in a 48,000 sq.-ft. room with what must have been 1,000 other applicants, but for all I knew I had only a Marine on my right and a Boaltie on my left. Never was I distracted by applicants who cut out of the MBE twenty minutes early, never was I bothered by the doofus who'd neglected to download the exam from SofTest and was subsequently running around the 48,000 sq.-ft. room looking for a wireless signal. Didn't see any of that.
4. Post-it flags aren't on the list of items permitted into the test site, but highlighters are, so who's to say that highlighters that come with post-it flags shouldn't be allowed into the test site? I found the flags to be indispensable during the performance tests. Since I was sitting in the very front row, right where the proctors could see me, I doubt that my post-it flags truly were contraband. But just in case, I removed the flags from my test booklet when I handed everything in, and no one was the wiser.
5. The California bar takes its water seriously. We aren't allowed water in the testing room, but the bar examiners sprang for an endless supply of cooler water that sat right outside the doors. The gaggle of applicants on water breaks did lend to a feeling of collective nursing, but at least we didn't have to wait in line to drink sludge from the water fountain.
6. Take the test with a buddy, if you can. I was supremely fortunate to have both the Captain and Good Neighbor along with me in Oakland. I didn't need much, so two buddies were enough, if only to blow off steam at the end of the day and talk about how the Sox traded Manny this afternoon.
7. When it's over, let it go. We'll see just how good at that I am.
Til next time. Which I hope will not come along.
Read entire post...
When the head proctor called time this afternoon, the entire room broke into applause, and even our normally stoic proctor had to crack a smile. She let us blow off a little steam, then continued with her closing instructions. A few moments later, I was free to go.
Those first few moments after the exam I was so overwhelmed I didn't even know it. I was drained and exhausted - too spent even to realize that I was done. When I called my mother, she kept trying to get me to say I felt good about it, but I wouldn't, couldn't commit. It's all out of my hands, but neither do I want to tempt fate.
In the meantime, a few reflections from my week here in Oakland:
1. Bad fashion knows no bounds. I understand that we are taking an excruciating exam and that we are stuck in a convention center, cattle-style, for six hours a day. Still, I find that no excuse to wear velour sweatsuits, even if they do say "Juicy" on the butt. Even if someone spent hundreds of dollars on her velour outfit, she's still wearing sweatpants. In public. People can, and should, do better than that.
2. Oakland is the city in which to take the bar. The convention center is located downtown, right in the middle of plenty of places to eat and places to stay. When I took the BarBri MBE in Boston, the test was at the Boston World Trade Center, which is located next to nothing. Nothing. The Massachusetts bar at least permits its applicants to bring food into the exam (California's does not), but if given the option, I'd want to get away from test site during lunch. And get away I would, if only to sit in my hotel room for an hour and a half to veg. At dinner I'd collect with my friends in the lobby of my hotel and walk to one of any number of fun places to eat. (Tonight, Thai. YUM.) I even found the time to run (are you surprised?), and the hotel staff directed me to a lovely lake just a five minutes' run away. So if you're taking the California bar, and you want to use your laptop, take it in Oakland. (There's even a grocery store next to the test site. I got a fridge for my room and stocked it full of fresh veggies.)
3. There's value to registering early. I registered not four hours after registration was available, and as a result I was seated in the very front row. I took the test in a 48,000 sq.-ft. room with what must have been 1,000 other applicants, but for all I knew I had only a Marine on my right and a Boaltie on my left. Never was I distracted by applicants who cut out of the MBE twenty minutes early, never was I bothered by the doofus who'd neglected to download the exam from SofTest and was subsequently running around the 48,000 sq.-ft. room looking for a wireless signal. Didn't see any of that.
4. Post-it flags aren't on the list of items permitted into the test site, but highlighters are, so who's to say that highlighters that come with post-it flags shouldn't be allowed into the test site? I found the flags to be indispensable during the performance tests. Since I was sitting in the very front row, right where the proctors could see me, I doubt that my post-it flags truly were contraband. But just in case, I removed the flags from my test booklet when I handed everything in, and no one was the wiser.
5. The California bar takes its water seriously. We aren't allowed water in the testing room, but the bar examiners sprang for an endless supply of cooler water that sat right outside the doors. The gaggle of applicants on water breaks did lend to a feeling of collective nursing, but at least we didn't have to wait in line to drink sludge from the water fountain.
6. Take the test with a buddy, if you can. I was supremely fortunate to have both the Captain and Good Neighbor along with me in Oakland. I didn't need much, so two buddies were enough, if only to blow off steam at the end of the day and talk about how the Sox traded Manny this afternoon.
7. When it's over, let it go. We'll see just how good at that I am.
Til next time. Which I hope will not come along.
Read entire post...
Wednesday, July 30, 2008
Stripping away the inessential
In her much-discussed Commencement address at Harvard this June, J.K. Rowling submitted that a mere seven years after her own college graduation, she was the biggest failure she knew. She was jobless, a lone parent, and "as poor as it is possible to be in modern Britain, without being homeless." While she was careful not to glamorize her poverty, she maintained nonetheless that her failure had benefited her by stripping away the inessential. She stopped trying to be what other people wanted her to be, and she began, in earnest, the only work that mattered to her.
Tomorrow I will begin what I hope will be my last meeting ever with the California state bar examiners. After two long days, the third day is a test as much of my endurance as it is of my legal knowledge. This entire exam, in a sense, has been a stripping away of the inessential. No more fretting, no more wondering - nothing but me and my opportunity to show just how much I want it.
One day more.
Tomorrow I will begin what I hope will be my last meeting ever with the California state bar examiners. After two long days, the third day is a test as much of my endurance as it is of my legal knowledge. This entire exam, in a sense, has been a stripping away of the inessential. No more fretting, no more wondering - nothing but me and my opportunity to show just how much I want it.
One day more.
Tuesday, July 29, 2008
Earthquake
Yikes.
One hour ago, LA had a 5.4 magnitude earthquake. No reports of major injury or damage have been reported as of yet, but it hit at 11:42am, i.e., during the third essay. The Captain and I are lucky to be in Oakland which is far, far away from LA, but our pal the Mad Dog is in LA and he's kinda jumpy overall. So we're feeling for our SoCal bar applicants today. Send them good thoughts - they need them more than the rest of us.
One hour ago, LA had a 5.4 magnitude earthquake. No reports of major injury or damage have been reported as of yet, but it hit at 11:42am, i.e., during the third essay. The Captain and I are lucky to be in Oakland which is far, far away from LA, but our pal the Mad Dog is in LA and he's kinda jumpy overall. So we're feeling for our SoCal bar applicants today. Send them good thoughts - they need them more than the rest of us.
Sunday, July 27, 2008
Live-blogging the Captain's arrival
3:52PM PDT: The Captain finally - after two failed attempts where he actually got on planes and then had to get off - got a flight out of New York. According to delta.com, he's supposed to arrive in Salt Lake by 8:30PM MDT. Keep your fingers crossed that that happens because the last flight out of Salt Lake to Oakland is at 9:15PM MDT. One nice thing about delta.com is that they have a nifty flight tracker where you can see where the flight is along a map. Right now, he's somewhere above the Great Lakes.
As for me, I've been in Oakland nearly four hours but I have yet to do any studying. I have instead, among other things, watched a good portion of the late Prof. Pausch's "Last Lecture." (If you haven't seen it yet, it is worth a look. It's a bit long, so to fellow bar applicants I recommend watching it in portions.) As I watch it, I can't help but feel enormous, vicarious pride because Prof. Pausch also graduated from Brown and he seems never to have given up the fearless creativity and courage that so defined my undergraduate education. That inspires me. Even though creativity should not be on my agenda at the moment, I'm still excited for what lies beyond the next four days. There is a world of possibility out there and I cannot wait to be reacquainted with it.
In the meantime, time to start taking care of "the matter at hand."
6:29PM PDT: Delta Flight 141 is flying over Wyoming, which borders Utah. I just checked the weather forecast, however, and there are rainstorms over Salt Lake so don't get your hopes up. As for me, I'm still tired and cranky.
7:35PM PDT: He's touched down in Salt Lake! Even better, he was seated in business class so he got to have dinner. That's good because there's not much for food at the motel. Small victories.
8:29PM PDT: His flight from Salt Lake has taken off! Cautious optimism, people. As an illustrative analogy: it's the top of the eighth at Fenway and the Sox are up 9-2. Xavier Nady just hit into a double play. But are we going to call it a game? NO.
8:45PM PDT: Top of the ninth, Timlin on the mound. Now we can call it a game.
10:15PM PDT: LANDED!!! He will be arriving to the motel shortly. Thank goodness. And good night.
As for me, I've been in Oakland nearly four hours but I have yet to do any studying. I have instead, among other things, watched a good portion of the late Prof. Pausch's "Last Lecture." (If you haven't seen it yet, it is worth a look. It's a bit long, so to fellow bar applicants I recommend watching it in portions.) As I watch it, I can't help but feel enormous, vicarious pride because Prof. Pausch also graduated from Brown and he seems never to have given up the fearless creativity and courage that so defined my undergraduate education. That inspires me. Even though creativity should not be on my agenda at the moment, I'm still excited for what lies beyond the next four days. There is a world of possibility out there and I cannot wait to be reacquainted with it.
In the meantime, time to start taking care of "the matter at hand."
6:29PM PDT: Delta Flight 141 is flying over Wyoming, which borders Utah. I just checked the weather forecast, however, and there are rainstorms over Salt Lake so don't get your hopes up. As for me, I'm still tired and cranky.
7:35PM PDT: He's touched down in Salt Lake! Even better, he was seated in business class so he got to have dinner. That's good because there's not much for food at the motel. Small victories.
8:29PM PDT: His flight from Salt Lake has taken off! Cautious optimism, people. As an illustrative analogy: it's the top of the eighth at Fenway and the Sox are up 9-2. Xavier Nady just hit into a double play. But are we going to call it a game? NO.
8:45PM PDT: Top of the ninth, Timlin on the mound. Now we can call it a game.
10:15PM PDT: LANDED!!! He will be arriving to the motel shortly. Thank goodness. And good night.
Mnfsouyre - UPDATED, again!
It is 5:11am. I am at my gate at Logan and already people are yakking away on their cellphones. At FIVE IN THE MORNING. What could people possibly have to talk about at five in the morning? Even with the 24 hour news cycle, it's Sunday. There aren't any markets open, anywhere.
(As you can see, I am thrilled to be up at this hour on my way to the bar. My flight doesn't even board for another hour and a half. Usually I'd blame the Captain and how he's inherited his father's 'Get to the airport eight hours in advance' gene, but this time I can't lay the blame on genetics. No, I lay the blame on a cab company that actually showed up when we called them, a highway completely free of traffic, a checked bag that came in just under the weight limit, and a security check that I'm not sure even happened it was so fast. Who knew.)
And so begins the end. When I got up this morning I looked at my BarBri books and thought, "How weird it will be to come home and throw all these out." Because everyday for the last three, arguably four, years has led up to this. Three years, $140,000, the same five pounds gained and lost and gained (and hopefully lost) again - it's all led up to this exam.
Bring it.
UPDATE: And we're off to a fantastic start. After I spilled Dunkin' Donuts all down my front I went to the bathroom to try to mitigate the damages. Now I have a huge wet spot in the middle of my chest. That's cool.
UPDATED, AGAIN! I am in Oakland! But the Captain is not. We didn't get the same flight out here because of logistical reasons, and somehow my flight made it out of Boston just fine but his had some trouble. So he missed his connection when he got to New York, and there he is still even after numerous attempts to get him to California. We're hoping he'll make it to Oakland by this evening, but even if he doesn't, there's still all day tomorrow. It's a big cramp in the studying, but snafus such as this are why we planned to get here two days in advance, anyway.
Nice to see things are going to plan.
(As you can see, I am thrilled to be up at this hour on my way to the bar. My flight doesn't even board for another hour and a half. Usually I'd blame the Captain and how he's inherited his father's 'Get to the airport eight hours in advance' gene, but this time I can't lay the blame on genetics. No, I lay the blame on a cab company that actually showed up when we called them, a highway completely free of traffic, a checked bag that came in just under the weight limit, and a security check that I'm not sure even happened it was so fast. Who knew.)
And so begins the end. When I got up this morning I looked at my BarBri books and thought, "How weird it will be to come home and throw all these out." Because everyday for the last three, arguably four, years has led up to this. Three years, $140,000, the same five pounds gained and lost and gained (and hopefully lost) again - it's all led up to this exam.
Bring it.
UPDATE: And we're off to a fantastic start. After I spilled Dunkin' Donuts all down my front I went to the bathroom to try to mitigate the damages. Now I have a huge wet spot in the middle of my chest. That's cool.
UPDATED, AGAIN! I am in Oakland! But the Captain is not. We didn't get the same flight out here because of logistical reasons, and somehow my flight made it out of Boston just fine but his had some trouble. So he missed his connection when he got to New York, and there he is still even after numerous attempts to get him to California. We're hoping he'll make it to Oakland by this evening, but even if he doesn't, there's still all day tomorrow. It's a big cramp in the studying, but snafus such as this are why we planned to get here two days in advance, anyway.
Nice to see things are going to plan.
Monday, July 21, 2008
I shall not be moved
My senior year of high school, I was a peer group leader. Why I tried out for an activity usually reserved for the professionally popular (jocks, cheerleaders - i.e., NON-orchestra geeks) I don't know. But somehow I made the roster and found myself on a weekend training retreat somewhere in the woods of New Jersey. With the professionally popular.
One of our workshops was designed to show us how positive reinforcement can yield different results from negative reinforcement. (We were about to be trusted with fourteen year-olds - the school didn't want us making them cry.) The workshop leaders lay down a line of masking tape along the length of a room, and everyone else took a seat along the line, except for two volunteers. The volunteers took turns donning blindfolds and walking down the room, while trying to keep as close to the line on the floor as possible. For the first guy, everyone shouted words of encouragement, no matter if he was actually on the line or veering off into oblivion. For the second guy, the group shouted insults and words of...well, let's just say frustration.
As you probably have figured out, I was one of those brilliant, blindfolded volunteers. And as you also probably have figured out, I volunteered to be insulted. By the professionally popular. But even though I knew I was going to be insulted and that nobody actually meant all the horrible things they shouted at me, I still remember being confused and hurt as I walked down the room. But I also remember a tiny, tiny laser beam pointing me in the right direction, and an even tinier voice telling me to ignore the very loud yelling. And so I walked.
When I reached the end of the line, I took off my blindfold and was told that I had just beaten the positively reinforced volunteer by eleven steps (out of a total of thirteen). So not only did I totally frustrate the workshop, I also gave a big, imaginary middle finger to the professionally popular.
I remain proud.
But I still remember how conflicted I was as I walked down the line. Every bone in my body was telling me to give in and to give up, and that's exactly what I would have liked to have done. Instead I kept on walking. It was very confusing, this internal tug-of-war.
So as the days wind down to the bar, and as I grow more and more tired and sad, I'll have to remember that tiny little voice. I shall not be moved. Read entire post...
One of our workshops was designed to show us how positive reinforcement can yield different results from negative reinforcement. (We were about to be trusted with fourteen year-olds - the school didn't want us making them cry.) The workshop leaders lay down a line of masking tape along the length of a room, and everyone else took a seat along the line, except for two volunteers. The volunteers took turns donning blindfolds and walking down the room, while trying to keep as close to the line on the floor as possible. For the first guy, everyone shouted words of encouragement, no matter if he was actually on the line or veering off into oblivion. For the second guy, the group shouted insults and words of...well, let's just say frustration.
As you probably have figured out, I was one of those brilliant, blindfolded volunteers. And as you also probably have figured out, I volunteered to be insulted. By the professionally popular. But even though I knew I was going to be insulted and that nobody actually meant all the horrible things they shouted at me, I still remember being confused and hurt as I walked down the room. But I also remember a tiny, tiny laser beam pointing me in the right direction, and an even tinier voice telling me to ignore the very loud yelling. And so I walked.
When I reached the end of the line, I took off my blindfold and was told that I had just beaten the positively reinforced volunteer by eleven steps (out of a total of thirteen). So not only did I totally frustrate the workshop, I also gave a big, imaginary middle finger to the professionally popular.
I remain proud.
But I still remember how conflicted I was as I walked down the line. Every bone in my body was telling me to give in and to give up, and that's exactly what I would have liked to have done. Instead I kept on walking. It was very confusing, this internal tug-of-war.
So as the days wind down to the bar, and as I grow more and more tired and sad, I'll have to remember that tiny little voice. I shall not be moved. Read entire post...
Sunday, July 20, 2008
:-(
When my sister Schmoopy was writing her honors thesis at Stanford, she sent me and her boyfriend a picture of herself wearing a very sad face. The caption read, "This is how my thesis makes me feel."
If I weren't so paranoid about privacy (yes, I recognize the cognitive dissonance of 'privacy' on a blog), I'd post a similar photo of myself. My caption would read, "This is how the bar makes me feel."
Instead, I'll just say this: today I got so sick of studying and missing the Captain that I almost got in my car. But then I hopped on the T to go to the library. Where I continued to be sad.
If I weren't so paranoid about privacy (yes, I recognize the cognitive dissonance of 'privacy' on a blog), I'd post a similar photo of myself. My caption would read, "This is how the bar makes me feel."
Instead, I'll just say this: today I got so sick of studying and missing the Captain that I almost got in my car. But then I hopped on the T to go to the library. Where I continued to be sad.
Saturday, July 19, 2008
Strategery
Today I had the pleasure of lunching with Ms. J, something we used to do almost everyday but not since we graduated. This happens when you've been banished across the river like I was, but thankfully I am no longer in exile. (In case you are wondering, no, we did not schedule a "fun" lunch. We were breaking between the morning and afternoon sessions of yet another simulated multistate exam.)
While we were eating I mentioned to her that I admired how she, a married woman, could balance her family life and her bar life so well. The Captain and I have "broken up" until the bar so we can devote more time to studying, but Ms. J doesn't have that option. Mr. J lives with her. She acknowledged that keeping the balance was a challenge, but she reminded me that she was lucky to have a husband to support her (i.e., do the cooking) while she studied.
It got me thinking about my friends' various coping strategies. Ms. J leans on Mr. J a little more. The Captain is broken up with me six days a week. Lawyer Mom took her one year-old, kissed her husband good-bye (I imagine) and shipped off to the homeland (New Jersey) so she could study undisturbed while her mother looked after the baby. And I...I cook.
I can't help it. Last week I loaded up on packaged meals from Trader Joe's just so I wouldn't have to cook, but after I sign off here I'm headed for the kitchen where I will make Mark Bittman's chilled avocado soup. I know I said I'd try to stop grocery shopping so much, but I'm an addict.
At least it's not drugs.
[And, I'm doing just fine after the simulated multistate. I scored my answers and I'm...not distraught. It's a start.]
UPDATED: The soup was...okay. I'm not over the moon about it. Serves me right for straying from my time-only-for-prepared-foods path.
While we were eating I mentioned to her that I admired how she, a married woman, could balance her family life and her bar life so well. The Captain and I have "broken up" until the bar so we can devote more time to studying, but Ms. J doesn't have that option. Mr. J lives with her. She acknowledged that keeping the balance was a challenge, but she reminded me that she was lucky to have a husband to support her (i.e., do the cooking) while she studied.
It got me thinking about my friends' various coping strategies. Ms. J leans on Mr. J a little more. The Captain is broken up with me six days a week. Lawyer Mom took her one year-old, kissed her husband good-bye (I imagine) and shipped off to the homeland (New Jersey) so she could study undisturbed while her mother looked after the baby. And I...I cook.
I can't help it. Last week I loaded up on packaged meals from Trader Joe's just so I wouldn't have to cook, but after I sign off here I'm headed for the kitchen where I will make Mark Bittman's chilled avocado soup. I know I said I'd try to stop grocery shopping so much, but I'm an addict.
At least it's not drugs.
[And, I'm doing just fine after the simulated multistate. I scored my answers and I'm...not distraught. It's a start.]
UPDATED: The soup was...okay. I'm not over the moon about it. Serves me right for straying from my time-only-for-prepared-foods path.
Thursday, July 17, 2008
Serenity now
...insanity later. (Ah, George.)
The Captain texted me Reinhold Niehbuhr's [FN1] serenity prayer this afternoon. This after I told him 1) it is possible, after all, to have road rage on the T, 2) BC's main campus was crawling with tourists, and 3) lots of F-bombs sprinkled throughout. The Captain's point is well-taken now, nine hours after the fact, but at the time I was in a sweaty frenzy. Waiting thirty-six minutes for the T in 90F weather will do that to a person.
But the truth is, the Captain is just naturally more serene than I ever will be. (Or maybe I need to go "defend our country's freedoms" in 140F heat like he did.) I have been counting only since yesterday, but so far I have called him while very upset everyday this week. Superstar he is, he has taken everything in stride. He is a very good sport. He's even anticipated future meltdowns by taking the tried-and-true route of procuring me sweets. Holding aside the threat of an expanded midsection, I cherish his care and aspire to his equanimity.
Big hugs.
---------
FN1. Yes, yes, I know the authorship is recently in dispute. I read The New York Times just like you.
UPDATE: The whoopie pies arrived today. If you look closely, that's a dozen delicious pies. Plus a card that says, "Happy PMBR!" I chuckle to myself when I imagine what the Whoopie people must have thought when writing that card. Probably thought it was some cute inside joke. Would that it were.
The Captain texted me Reinhold Niehbuhr's [FN1] serenity prayer this afternoon. This after I told him 1) it is possible, after all, to have road rage on the T, 2) BC's main campus was crawling with tourists, and 3) lots of F-bombs sprinkled throughout. The Captain's point is well-taken now, nine hours after the fact, but at the time I was in a sweaty frenzy. Waiting thirty-six minutes for the T in 90F weather will do that to a person.
But the truth is, the Captain is just naturally more serene than I ever will be. (Or maybe I need to go "defend our country's freedoms" in 140F heat like he did.) I have been counting only since yesterday, but so far I have called him while very upset everyday this week. Superstar he is, he has taken everything in stride. He is a very good sport. He's even anticipated future meltdowns by taking the tried-and-true route of procuring me sweets. Holding aside the threat of an expanded midsection, I cherish his care and aspire to his equanimity.
Big hugs.
---------
FN1. Yes, yes, I know the authorship is recently in dispute. I read The New York Times just like you.
UPDATE: The whoopie pies arrived today. If you look closely, that's a dozen delicious pies. Plus a card that says, "Happy PMBR!" I chuckle to myself when I imagine what the Whoopie people must have thought when writing that card. Probably thought it was some cute inside joke. Would that it were.
Wednesday, July 16, 2008
Nuts and Bolts
Per Mrs. Priest's request, here is a summary of what the bar exam is:
The exam is held twice a year in February and July, and it is held the same week across all fifty states. This year the July administration is 7/29-31/08. The exam varies in length between two and three days, but the vast majority of states have two days of testing. The first day is six hours of multiple choice questions (100 mults in the morning, 100 in the afternoon) which cover law that is common to the majority of the fifty states. Every state gives the same exact set of multiple choice questions. The second day is essays, the number of which varies from state to state. The essays cover state-specific law. (States also vary on which they give first, the essays or the mults, but more on that later.)
California, however, has decided to throw in a third day. Day One is three hours of essays in the morning, then three hours of what they call the Performance Test in the afternoon. The performance test does not test any substantive knowledge. Rather, the PT tests your ability to follow directions. This sounds easier than it is. You're given an assignment ranging from anything to "write a memo" to "draft a will" to submit to a fictitious supervising attorney. You're also given a set of facts and fictitious law to shape your answer. This can be tricky because the fictitious law you're given is not necessarily what the law is in the real world. So you could know a real rule but be told that it's the opposite rule on the PT. On the PT, you apply the fake rule despite what you've learned in law school and despite what you've filled your head with studying for the bar. What's even trickier is that very, very few law school graduates ever have done the things asked for on the PT. I, for one, never have had to draft an affidavit or a business contract, but the PT doesn't care. If affidavits are what they want, then affidavits are what I'll give, even though I've never even seen one. To date, California is the only state in the union that has a three-hour PT. Thirty other states also have a PT, but theirs are only 90 minutes each. Massachusetts does not have a PT, and I like to remind my MA friends about that.[FN1]
Anyway, back to the schedule. CA's Day One is essays and the PT, Day Two is the multiple choice, and Day Three is essays and the PT, just like Day One. What's interesting about Day Two is that every other state in the country is ALSO giving their multiple choice exams that very same day. Why? Because some people want to take two exams at once. (People do this. Really.) They can do this if the two states they've picked 1) give two-day exams, and 2) have test schedules such that the state-specific essay days don't coincide.
Here's an example: Start in NY, where you take the NY essays on the first day and the national mults on the second day. The night of the second day, drive to MA so you can take the MA essays on the third day. (Since you've already taken the national multiple choice questions in NY, you don't have to take them again in MA.) Again, this works out only if the two states you've picked don't hold their essay days on the same day. NY and MA do not hold their essays on the same day because, well, we have lots of crazy people up in here. MA and NJ do hold their essays on the same day, however, so if you want to practice in both states, you'll have to wait until the next time the test is held to take the exam.
Oddly enough, you would think this works only when the states are contiguous, too. Nuh-uh. Ms. J has told me of a student in her class who is taking the Florida essays on Day 1 and the national mults on Day 2, then flying up to Massachusetts for the MA essays on Day 3. I suppose some people just don't want to have to study for the bar more than once.
I respect that.
---------
FN1. MA does have to hand-write their exams, though. CA gets to type. Thank God. Read entire post...
The exam is held twice a year in February and July, and it is held the same week across all fifty states. This year the July administration is 7/29-31/08. The exam varies in length between two and three days, but the vast majority of states have two days of testing. The first day is six hours of multiple choice questions (100 mults in the morning, 100 in the afternoon) which cover law that is common to the majority of the fifty states. Every state gives the same exact set of multiple choice questions. The second day is essays, the number of which varies from state to state. The essays cover state-specific law. (States also vary on which they give first, the essays or the mults, but more on that later.)
California, however, has decided to throw in a third day. Day One is three hours of essays in the morning, then three hours of what they call the Performance Test in the afternoon. The performance test does not test any substantive knowledge. Rather, the PT tests your ability to follow directions. This sounds easier than it is. You're given an assignment ranging from anything to "write a memo" to "draft a will" to submit to a fictitious supervising attorney. You're also given a set of facts and fictitious law to shape your answer. This can be tricky because the fictitious law you're given is not necessarily what the law is in the real world. So you could know a real rule but be told that it's the opposite rule on the PT. On the PT, you apply the fake rule despite what you've learned in law school and despite what you've filled your head with studying for the bar. What's even trickier is that very, very few law school graduates ever have done the things asked for on the PT. I, for one, never have had to draft an affidavit or a business contract, but the PT doesn't care. If affidavits are what they want, then affidavits are what I'll give, even though I've never even seen one. To date, California is the only state in the union that has a three-hour PT. Thirty other states also have a PT, but theirs are only 90 minutes each. Massachusetts does not have a PT, and I like to remind my MA friends about that.[FN1]
Anyway, back to the schedule. CA's Day One is essays and the PT, Day Two is the multiple choice, and Day Three is essays and the PT, just like Day One. What's interesting about Day Two is that every other state in the country is ALSO giving their multiple choice exams that very same day. Why? Because some people want to take two exams at once. (People do this. Really.) They can do this if the two states they've picked 1) give two-day exams, and 2) have test schedules such that the state-specific essay days don't coincide.
Here's an example: Start in NY, where you take the NY essays on the first day and the national mults on the second day. The night of the second day, drive to MA so you can take the MA essays on the third day. (Since you've already taken the national multiple choice questions in NY, you don't have to take them again in MA.) Again, this works out only if the two states you've picked don't hold their essay days on the same day. NY and MA do not hold their essays on the same day because, well, we have lots of crazy people up in here. MA and NJ do hold their essays on the same day, however, so if you want to practice in both states, you'll have to wait until the next time the test is held to take the exam.
Oddly enough, you would think this works only when the states are contiguous, too. Nuh-uh. Ms. J has told me of a student in her class who is taking the Florida essays on Day 1 and the national mults on Day 2, then flying up to Massachusetts for the MA essays on Day 3. I suppose some people just don't want to have to study for the bar more than once.
I respect that.
---------
FN1. MA does have to hand-write their exams, though. CA gets to type. Thank God. Read entire post...
Tuesday, July 15, 2008
Attitude
Last week I had the pleasure of actually seeing some of my friends at Mr. J's (Ms. J's husband) thirtieth birthday party. It was at this party that Ms. J informed me that Massachusetts BarBri isn't nearly as supportive of her class as California BarBri is mine, and that all of the various confidence boosters that BarBri's been feeding me are completely alien to her. I was surprised. Because my BarBri class makes a regular habit of reminding us that we're competent and that's all we need to be. (In fact I anticipate only more of that tomorrow, when Prof. Honigsberg, Superstar, delivers our lecture.)
Really? I asked. No apocryphal stories of just how little competence you need to show in order to pass? No reassurances that the bar exam is not that hard, none at all?
None, Ms. J replied.
So I concluded, naturally, that the California bar exam really IS that hard, because why else would BarBri be taking the time to psych us all up?
Holy. moly.
Really? I asked. No apocryphal stories of just how little competence you need to show in order to pass? No reassurances that the bar exam is not that hard, none at all?
None, Ms. J replied.
So I concluded, naturally, that the California bar exam really IS that hard, because why else would BarBri be taking the time to psych us all up?
Holy. moly.
Friday, July 11, 2008
Ungh
I don't know why I do this to myself. Just now I paged through the Boston Globe and read through the weekend section. (It was an aspirational thing.)
I was slapped in the face when the paper reminded me that not one but TWO of my favorite acts are on Cape Cod this weekend. Jenski had alerted me to this before, but I had looked away from her email at the time so as to pretend I'd never saw it. But see it I did. And how.
Despair.
This is what happens when you page through the weekend section. Don't. read. the. weekend. section.
I was slapped in the face when the paper reminded me that not one but TWO of my favorite acts are on Cape Cod this weekend. Jenski had alerted me to this before, but I had looked away from her email at the time so as to pretend I'd never saw it. But see it I did. And how.
Despair.
This is what happens when you page through the weekend section. Don't. read. the. weekend. section.
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