All Things Profane and Sacred

Day 2: Filed in, and set down in the seat I had yesterday. For some reason the bar examiners wanted us sitting in the same seat we were in the day before. Don't ask me how they could possibly tell whether we were in the same seat-there were about 500 of us, and the proctor for our session was different, but there you have it. My guess is that they don't want to spend all morning listening to tightly wound people fighting over seating arrangements.

I was kinda spacing out, listening to directions (20 minutes of fill in the bubbles, don't cheat, etc) when I noticed an empty seat a few rows in front of me. I was thinking, Hmmm, I wonder if someone just couldn't take it anymore. Then I realized, Holy Shit! That's S's seat! Just at that moment B whispers to me, "Where's S?" I can't even explain the panic that hit me, or try to explain why I felt panicked at all. Thankfully S came in a bit after that. He was late, but didn't miss much, and wasn't given a big hassle.

The whole big no cheating precautions seem sorta silly to me. I can understand not being allowed to have any papers or books. I can even understand not having any bags or purses. But I can not understand only being allowed prepackaged food. What, you think I'm going to fill my bag of carrots with information? You think I can pack enough information in with me for it to actually be worthwhile? And when the hell am I going to have time to furtively sneak a look at this information? How do I know I'll even need it? And so on. The whole deal is just silly. I don't think it would help one bit to have the whole exam be open notes/books.

Anyhow, the question booklet has a statement on it that breaking the seal means you contract not to discuss the questions or answers on pain of death/dismemberment. I won't call it a contract (since I think its an unenforceable contract of adhesion), but on the other hand I can't say I remember much about the 200 fucking multiple choice questions either (except one that was real weird, but the integrity of the bar will crumble if I dare to even describe it, and since I'm one stand-up broad, I won't spill the beans).

A chair massage (provided free by the school) at lunch relieved a lot of the kinks in my poor arm, neck, hand and shoulder. Then a nice sit on the grass under the tree and the clear sky. Then back to the smelly conference center. Yesterday, I felt pretty good at halftime, because I was half-way through. Today I felt pretty shitty, because I just didn't want to answer any more questions about these stupid people and their stupid problems. I had to get up and splash water on my face a lot during the last half, because my mind would start wandering, or the words would be swimming in front of my eyes. Counting down the last questions. Trying to remind myself that I really had nowhere to go, and even if I did, rushing to leave early could mean sitting for this damn thing again in February. I really want to be able to put Esq. after my name come September.

When I was finally done, I though I'd feel relief or happieness or horniness or something. But I just feel kinda blank. Numb. Not as exhausted as yesterday, but still somewhat empty. Guess time'll take time.

Day 1: I was going to give you an update on day one, but when I came home my internet was out, and I was in no mood to sit on the phone with comcast yesterday. I thought about it briefly and imagined having some internet related meltdown and so skipped it. Now its just acting very weirdly, so you may or may not ever get to see this post.

My hard day is over with. 9 essays (Civ Pro, Sales, Ethics, Torts, Con Law, Evidence, Crim, Contracts and Wills) and this thing called the MPT (basically a 90 minute research & writing exercise). We got to sit wherever we wanted (though we have to take the same seat for Day 2: fun with bubbles) so I snagged a seat by the doors, next to some of the same people I've taken shit loads of tests sitting next to before. I dunno, its much more comforting to me to take a test around familiar people than it is around strangers. Anywho, the first few minutes of the MPT and the Civ Pro Essay there was a bit of that panicky stuff in my throat, but the rest of the time I was just an essay writing machine, spitting out law, applying some facts, concluding and movinng on. I guess that is what people mean by being "focused." Huh. I didn't think it was so great.

I think the material we had was for the most part much easier than the barbari test materials. I think scoring is still too much of a coin toss to make any predictions thus far, and anyhow, whenever I feel like I've done well, I invariable do poorly. Well, let me back up. I wouldn't say I feel like I did "well." When you're churning out 3 pages every 35 minutes, you don't feel like King Shit of Turd mountain. But I felt like I was spotting a majority of the issues and mostly (excluding the really shitty ethics exam I wrote in a white heat) addressing them with clarity (unlike now when I can't seem to say what I fucking mean). And I did finish all the questions.

We had to be seated by 8:10, and were done about a quarter to six. My hand felt pretty dead by the time I was done, but it feels much better today (good enough to grip a pencil anyway). My poor neck and upper arm however is in absolute misery.

One more day, one more freaking day. I'm in the mood for Ramen for breakfast, but J seems to think something with nutritional value is needed. I suggested Ramen with a vitamin chaser, but I don't think that's quite what he meant.

Bits of anxiety peek through my calm. Had a hard time dropping off last night-I'm usually quite snoozy at night, but I was wide awake last night until J gave me some hot sweet "go to freaking sleep" loving. This morning I've been trying to keep to my routine. Get up, do dishes. Drink water. Have ginsing and anti-anxiety drug. Give the animals their drugs (one pill for Sadie, two for Jude). Made breakfast (mmmmm-greek yogurt, strawberries, walnuts and honey). Just blogging about it is making my tummy butterflies head back to their nest. I'm going to quickly look over some stuff so that it is fresh in my mind, and head over to the Columbia Conference Center. Cross my fingers that I don't have an "explosive diarrea incident." Luck and love to all my brothers and sisters out there in incohate lawyer land.

I think I have come to grips with this whole bar thing. A peaceful zen-like calm has descended. I have been a student for 20 years. I don't know about my law skills, but my test taking skills are top notch. I know what I know, and I know it well. I am going to have an experience that few people ever get to have-Taking the Bar Examination. Maybe that sounds a bit weird, but I think it's similar to being one of the first female cadets at West Point-A challenging experience, but worthwhile, nonetheless.

I'm also holding on to my monthly astrologer's prediction for Taurus'-we will pass a test at the end of July, and complete the work we began 7 years ago. (She also said that I was going to have housing problems this month, and that the unsettled living I've been dealing with would settle down by 2007-Thanks a lot Saturn).

Going through my flashcards a few last times makes me realize what a fuck of a lot of information I have tucked away in my head. I may not feel like it's easily retrievable right now, but it is there when I need it. I will be able to spout the bullshit if need be.

Weirdly, I am hoping for a secured transactions question on the exam. I did not take secured transactions, but of all my practice essays those were the ones that went the best. Or maybe I just hallucinated that.

Ok, so I never do these on-line quizzes, but I've kinda been at odds, doing some of this and that while waiting for the big day. So here it is folks-my battle cry for tommorrow:

What Is Your Battle Cry?

Yea, verily: Who is that, rampaging out of the freeway! It is Amber, hands clutching a vorpal blade! She bellows apocalyptically: "I'm going to flog you until the laws of physics are violated!!!"

Find out! Enter username: Are you a girl, or a guy ?

created by beatings : powered by monkeys

By the time this week ends, I'll have taken the bar exam, packed all of my stuff into storage, cleaned out and said good bye to my house, moved myself into a friend's attic, set up Sadie Mae in another friend's house, taken Jude back to the vet for a reassessment on whether he has arthritis, and hopefully have signed a lease (fingers crossed-prospective landlord will let us know by the end of this week). Prospective thanks to everyone who is helping me accomplish these things-especially S who is doing super-double duty dealing with getting a city permit and set up so as that I can park the storage on the curb for a few days, helping me with the storing of the shit and letting me squat in her attic for a month until I find a place to live.

Right now I just feel antsy. I want action-I don't want to think about getting these things done, I just want to do them. It'll all be over, one way or the other, soon enough. Until then, I sit down and study for 15 minutes, stand up and wander around aimlessly, clean some part of my house, sit down and study a bit more, wander over the the computer and fuck about, study, pack some shit, clean, study, repeat. I think I'm getting stress induced ADD. Help! I need study drugs!

Some random thoughts today:

-I'm not sure why some of my blogger posts have a long ass space in between the date and the writing or the writing and the end of the post. I've fiddled around with it, but to no avail.

-J took the Judester into the vet today because he's been limping these last two days. The vet thinks Jude has arthritis. I don't like to think about my doggy buddy getting older.

-Sadie Mae either has cancer or bowel inflamation. I'm just desperately trying to get her to gain weight, because she has lost half her weight in the last year.

-I've completed all the practice problems Barbari has given us in several of the areas, including torts multiple choice, and essay for civil procedure, evidence, and con law. I don't feel like any of it is helpful whatsoever at this point, but my behavior has become so erradic that I could be Williston and still have no chance of passing a contracts question.

I've been really dragging lately. I feel like my head is so full of information that if I don't walk very carefully, I'll tip my head over and lose all of it. I feel like every new thing I get down takes the place of some other critical bit of information. I'm still learning a lot, but I feel like I'm forgetting more. Blarg. I just wish I could take this damn exam and get it over with.

More fun with google-If you type dreaming about pooping into google, this blog comes up eighth (and not in the best company either, may I add). Even better, the phrase curly pubes brings up this blog third. I had no idea this blog was so raunchy.

Ralph Warner & Toni Ihara have this to say about the bar exam (dollar amounts have been updated for the current year):

"Imagine spending three years: memorizing the contents of 26 feet, 7 inches of books (approximately 911 lbs), listening to 1,800 hours of lectures, taking 30 examinations, spending upwards of $100,000, only to be told that all your reading, all your listening, all your money, and all your sucess on the examinations qualify you for absolutely nothing except the right to take one more exam-the Bar Examination.

"Imagine now being told that the Bar Exam tests not so much what you learned in the 1,800 lecture hours or the 26 feet, 7 inches of books, but on your ability to completely memorize the content of another eight-inch thick outline.

"Imagine next being told that in order to get this 'magic' outline, you must pay an additional $2,000 and spend a couple of months at another school.

"Imagine going to this new school with the knowledge that even if you read the magic outline 18 hours a day, evict your teddy bear and sleep with the bar outline clutched to your breast, your chances of flunking the examination are one in two.

"Imagine sitting in the Bar Examination for 2 days, surrounded by grey-faced classmates trying desperately to make it into the top 5o percent.

"Imagine how you will feel if you succeed.

"Imagine how you will feel if you fail.

"Imagine how you will feel if you do something else entirely with your life.

Warner & Ihara, 29 Reasons Not to Go to Law School, 65-66 (Nolo Press, 1982).

Ah. Barrister's champaign

I don't get the British

Man oh man. This weekend man. I just don't friggen know. Where to start. Well, I just fielded a call from the crazy ex-boyfriend. He just wanted to tell me that he is doing better, has a girlfriend and is having a baby. He says he thinks it will help him be responsible. I think that you should be responsible before having a child, and it is monsterous to use a living human being like that, but I didn't say anything beyond congratulations because that is the way I was raised. Maybe now that he has girlfriend/child he will stop calling me up and threatening crazy things when he is all crazy. The girlfriend/child will have to look out for themselves.

On the other front, I've been looking for a house in all my copious free time, because without warning or provocation, my landladies handed me my 3o day notice at the beginning of this month and wouldn't explain why they chose to evict me a few days after the bar exam. It has fucked me over something fierce-I think the stress alone from the bar exam would be managable without this on top of it. As it is, I had an emotional/mental breakdown yesterday. Anyhow, I'm not going to bore you with the whole "how I feel" bullshit spiel (hint: it rhymes with kangry and sbitter), but I did inadvertently find out why I'm being thrown out.

Saturday I had this weird package in my mailbox that was about the size of a box of checks, from a bank, with my address on it for "Wren-E Cat B&B, LLC." Wondering WTF, I opened it, and it was sure enough a box of checks, with my freaking address on them. I was going to call the bank to find out WTF, but then realized that I could just call the phone number on the checks. So, I punched it into my phone, and my phone tells me that the number is my landlady's cell phone.

So I'm all, those fucking cunts are making my house into a bed and breakfast! They must have known all this time and didn't bother to say a fucking word to me. They just waited until right before the bar and fucked me up the ass! And who the fuck is going to pay to go a bed and breakfast in the middle of the city with no privacy, with a white trash family down the street yelling and setting off fireworks?

But my deduction was incorrect. I took out my recyclables today, and the garage is full of scratching posts, litter boxes, litter, and framed pictures of kats and kitties. They are fucking making my house into a bed and breakfast for cats! They fucked me over, knowing I had the bar at the end of July, so they could start a business that is going to tank and ruin their rental property???? I'm going to be homeless in a few short weeks so rich weirdos can pay through the nose for their cats to have an entire house to themselves?

I am just constantly floored by human beings. I don't think I want to be an attorney anymore-I used to like people and want to help them, but now I've changed my mind. J says I'll eventually find this whole thing funny, but it's hard to laugh with an ulcer chewing a hole through your guts.

90 degrees is the temperature at which my ambition melts. It's way too difficult to deal with property and sales when I'm sticking to my chair and dreaming about sitting on the beach. Must focus! Must pull myself into an alternative world where I love nothing more than to trace out who owns what property and which mortgage has priority. I'm feeling the fear. While it is not dampening my enthusiasm for procrastination, it is at least dampening my ability to actually procrastinate. Back to the gulog.

Bar study continues to be hit and miss. I'll really ace an essay and spot all the issues, and then turn to the next essay in the book and miss something freakishly easy (like a restriction on advertising raising a first amendment issue, in addition to all sorts of interstate commerce stuff-D'oh). On the plus side, just this morning I pulled all the elements of moving for a new trial out of my ass correctly, even though that sort of shit did not make it to my study outline (A full 60 pages of information-I think that's a reasonable amount of information to have a firm handle on).

For a few days I was very worried because no matter how hard I tried, I just could not do anything. That sounds like some sort of lame excuse, and I'm not sure even how to quite explain it to myself. It wasn't that I didn't want to (Although I didn't-Studying is never what you want to do, it's always just what you have to do), or was too into doing something else, it was a simple inability to do anything. I sat in front of my computer with my books for 6 hours a day, completely unable to accomplish anything. Whatever it was, I seem to be over it and clicking along in overdrive, ready to head into the last turn. I'm sure this car analogy has all sorts of things wrong with it, but I'm at that point in don't give a shit where all things but the looming bar disaster-a-thon (up to and including personal hygiene) just do not matter.

So, I'm having reoccurring nightmares about mold. I'll be dreaming away, and I'll be in some building and suddenly I'll see some mold. Terror strikes my heart. Then suddenly everything is covered in mold. I'm desperately trying to get mold off of me and get out of there, but the mold is too much for me. I can feel the terror and adrenalin pumping through me when I wake up. Today's the 4th day in a row that I've had this dream.

WTF??? Y'know, when I had nightmares as a kid, they were at least sensible ones. Yeah, they were kinda screwy, but they involved things that should be scary, like the walking dead, bad people with guns, clowns, etc. Mold? I'm having scary mold dreams? The online dream dictionary has this to say about mold: "To see mold in your dream, indicates that something in your life has been ignored or is no longer of any use. It may also represent transformation and new growth." Thanks guys. Real helpful. Dream digging motherfuckers.

Well, I haven't written much lately, partially because I've been busier that a *insert colorful phrase here* (my personal favorite being "one legged man in an ass kicking competition), and partly because I've been mad as hell about an incident of which I shall not speak, mainly to avoid the horrible black rage that comes over me whenever I think about it, not to mention the stress induced nausea that I seem to finally have under control. But that's not exactly my problem today. My problem consists of hideous little furry disease ridden rodents and the horrible scraping scrabbling noise they are making in my walls. Tho the landladies have laid down traps, I can still hear them, tapping, rapping at my chamber door. Behold the beating of his hideous heart! (Wait, I'm getting Poe all mixed up in this somewhere). My main worry is that my ancient puss will try to go after them. She thinks she is a jungle cat, but at 17 is pretty well toothless and clawless. I think a field mouse would have her beat anyday.