The Secret Life of Studying for the Bar

I have cleaned my bathroom. Talked to Jessica. Mopped my kitchen floor. Paid my bills. Rearranged my office. Dusted. Drank Fresca. Went shopping at the co-op. Ate a sandwich. Talked to Stephanie. Received thoughtful, supportive emails from Amy. Made lunch plans with Tiffany. Promised Jim I would have my long-overdue book chapter edited tonight. Left a message for Jen.

I have cried. Poured my heart out to Brandy, my college roommate. Talked to Sanette, who called worried about the despondent sound of my email. I read the Advocate, and watched Ellen.

The one thing I have not done is I have not studied, though I have piled my BarBri books nicely in one corner.

And here's the rub of it. I'm the only one who can do this, who can pull myself out of this and learn, or try to learn, whatever I need to to pass this exam. I have lots of people who love me, who are pulling for me, but they can't study for me. They can't tie me to a chair, much as they might like to, or force-feed me the Conviser Mini-Review. They can't do a damn thing except watch from the sidelines and shout encouragement.

It feels a little like skiing, when you're standing at the top of a mountain, just before you make the first turn down. Nobody else there with you, just you alone who's got to push off, take the first leap of faith down the side of the mountain.