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.