Done.

And I've got the hangover to prove it.

Almost There: Countdown to the Bar Exam

Leaving for the hotel in just a few hours, and then the bar exam starts 24.5 hours from now. I'm almost all packed, and then plan on studying the Pennsylvania-only subjects for the rest of the day, jamming them in just long enough to remember to write down tomorrow.

Right now, it feels sort of like when you're riding a roller coaster, and you're getting up near the top, and it's too late to get off and you know that there's no way down, except, well, down. And you're terrified and excited and happy and terrified and you just hope that it all goes okay and you open your mouth to scream except that nothing comes out. That's how this feels.

Except along with it, there are all of these people -- friends and family and people I love and like and some who I barely know -- who have sent words and thoughts and prayers and notes and phone calls and funny stories of encouragement, and some came when I felt most discouraged. I feel like they are all there, too, cheering me along. It's a great feeling. I am thankful for that.

And now, I can see it: see taking the exam, how it feels writing and focusing and concentrating... and then... over, passing, becoming an attorney. It's so close now. Let it be so.

Law & Order Trivia: Jack McCoy's Law School

We interrupt our regularly scheduled bar-exam programming for something potentially more interesting...

A reader, Zelda, emailed me and said that on Law & Order, Jack McCoy and Serena "I came out of the closet on my last episode on the show" Southerlyn went to the same law school. But Zelda didn't know the name of the law school, and neither do I. Anyone out there know?

The Difference Between Two Days Ago and Today

Two days ago, when I went to the bathroom, my flashcards stayed outside, patiently awaiting my return. Now, they come with me.

My So-Called Life

I've gotten so boring these last couple of weeks. I've been trying to fight it, but today, I think it's finally gotten the best of me. When a friend asked if I was going out tonight, I told her that I had used up all of my free time getting a haricut. Haircuts, no matter how broadly construed, should not be considered social activities. And yet, today, it was.

Six days from now, it will all be over.

2 Gay Teens Executed in Iran

Consensual gay sex is punishable by death in the Islamic Republic of Iran. Two teens were hanged earlier this week for the "crime" of homosexuality. Horrifying article and pictures of their last moments is here.

Back in the Abyss: PMBR Redux

Oh, it was so fleeting, the moment that I was feeling good about this hazing ritual. And now, it's gone, after a day spent taking the second PMBR simulated exam.

The good news: My score has improved dramatically from the first 3-day course test.

The bad news: I'm not sure it's good enough to pass.

And again, I'm back to prayer. And flash cards. And more questions. And more essays. 4 days to go. Please let me pass.

Because We Need Another White Man in U.S. Government

Okay, so this post is a little late to the party, but I couldn't resist writing it anyway. According to the 2000 census, 49.1% of Americans are male, and 50.9% are female. (The census does not currently try to identify transgender people, or intersex people, or anyone who does not fit the male-female binary.) 75.1 percent identify as white; 12.3% as black or African-American; 3.6 percent as Asian, .9 as American Indian or Alaska Native, .1 percent as Hawaiian or Pacific Islander, 5.5% as another race, and 2.4% identify as two or more races.

And yet Bush thought it was important to nominate another white man to the Supreme Court. That would make 7/9 of the Supreme Court white men. 1/9 African-American men. 1/9 women. Because white men are doing such a great job when they are appointed to leadership roles in the U.S. government.

Mens Rea 5.5 Days Before the Bar: Nauseous

I'm not sure what happened today, but I am now permanently vomitous. As in, I want to vomit. All the time.

The day started off well enough: lots of PMBR MBE questions, and I'm actually within the passing range, which feels a little like Christmas in July to me.

But tonight, after dinner, I realized that one week from now, I would be finished with the Pennslvania bar exam and on my way to New Jersey for Day #3. And that's when I reached for the Pepto-Bismol.

And then bargaining begins. "Please, God, please let me pass. I'll do anything. I'll go to temple/church/mosque every Saturday/Sunday/daily. I'll make sure and do lots of pro bono hours. I'll donate regularly to charity. I'll help the poor. I'll use my lawyering for good, not evil. I'll not gloat when the Yankees are in first place."

Please. Just let me pass.

Hello Darkness: Bar Exam Hotel Rooms Gone Awry

I joked about the Fantasy Suites at the Radisson Valley Forge, here and in real life with friends. The no-window themed rooms. I joked that I wanted to stay in one of them, that I thought it would be really funny. I sort of wanted Cleopatra's Tent, or Gilligan's Island. I thought it would be like the race-car bed I never had.

And then I got my confirmation from the Radisson.

I am in a windowless room.

Who builds hotel rooms and leaves off the windows? I mean, isn't that sort of a basic amenity? Like, something you need to get a one-star rating from AAA?

The lovely woman at the Radisson I spoke with told me that they had nothing left except windowless rooms and smoking rooms. Of course, I would have appreciated them telling me this when I made my reservation, dutifully checking off "non-smoking, queen-sized bed."

There was no box to check for windows.

Hello, darkness, my old friend. Between the windowless room and my exile in northern New Jersey for the third day of the exam, well, I'm beginning to feel a bit like Job of the bar. Though I have been assured that my windowless room is not, in fact, a Fantasy Suite, but intead, is an executive suite. What executive would want a room with no windows?

But theoretically, it's on the first floor, instead of the 15th, and very far away from the ice machine, the lobby, or anything else that might prevent me from being perky for the bar. Or as perky as one might be able to be in a windowless room.

I'm like a little plant. I need sunlight to flourish, and I'm afraid this might make me wilty.

I thought about calling back, trying to get another room. But a friend of mine tells me that as long as I have the giant whirlpool bathtub, and the ability to rent movies, really, I won't need anything else. I'm going with that, trying to rally and concentrate on important things, like the Mailbox Rule or Shelley's Case or the Doctrine of Worthier Title. Really, I'm happy about my windowless room.

And by happy, I mean I feel like banging my head against the wall.

Bar Exam Exile, New Jersey style

I was born and raised in central New Jersey (around exit 138, thank you very much). It was a nice place to grow up. Or something approximating a nice place to grow up when you're 15 and it's 1988 and you realize that you're gay.

Anyway, my family still lives there, so I have a certain affinity for the state. They've been supportive of me going to law school, and they already ask me legal questions that I don't know the answers to, and I figure it's only going to get worse, which is probably the reason not to take the New Jersey bar, but I thought they'd be crushed, so well, what's one more day of essays?

But I've been exiled by the New Jersey bar examiners.

I am convinced that I am the only person who is taking the New Jersey bar exam at the Birchwood Manor. I am convinced that the other candidate numbers that are listed to take the exam at BM, as I like to refer to it, are shams, straw numbers made up to make my exile seem legit.

Now, my grandmother tells me the Birchwood Manor is a lovely place. That may be true. She's eaten there several times. It looks like a lovely place, sort of like where I had my bat mitzvah, which was sort of like a mini-wedding. Which, quite frankly, makes it feel a little weird to be taking the bar there. The bar is, umm, not so much like a big fancy party with passed hors d'oeuvres and a nice Viennese table. And I will not be wearing my bat mitzvah dress, which I am sorry to say I believe involved tafetta. Peach tafetta.

Anyway, the Birchwood Manor is a hike from Philadelphia. It is off of Exit 14 of the New Jersey Turnpike, which makes it, like 100 miles from the Pennsylvania bar exam site. I must have pissed someone off. Seriously.

All the other Philly-NJ bar takers I have asked -- and I have asked quite a few -- are in Somerset (exit 10), which is a scant 70 miles from Valley Forge. I mean, still a hike, but, umm, less of a hike. More like a long walk.

As I imagine it, I'm the only one taking the bar at BM. I'm going to walk in, and it will be just me, all alone with my essay questions. Maybe I'll wear my party dress after all.

Yanks in First Place

Woohoo. (Slightly subdued from an overloaded brain and a long day of bar studying.)

In It

Life has become pretty dull around here. I eat, sleep, and drink the bar exam. I have hundreds of flash cards and I am trying to cram it all into my brain before the start of the exam a week from tomorrow.

I wake up every morning around 7, no matter what time I have gone to sleep the night before. I don't need an alarm clock. This is good: my body is trained. But the eyes-fly-open, nausea-in-the-pit-of-my-stomach feeling... that, I could do without. I have bought lots of Pepto-Bismol. Mnemonic devices pop into my head and it is soothing when I can remember what they stand for.

I go over to my best friend's house, and I sit at her dining room table, and I look at my watch and I study. At the end of every hour, I give myself a little mark on an index card. It is a way to keep track of the time. I turn on my iPod, and sometimes, sing out loud, all the while studying. A couple of times a day, I eat something, though it doesn't much matter what, as it all makes me feel vaguely ill. At night, I get to watch some TV. It has become a highlight of the day.

Today, I am going to try and go to the gym. I thought it would be good to do something physical.

This will all be over in 12 days, and I can't tell if that is terrifying or comforting, or both, all at once.

Last Call

I went to, perhaps, my last big social event before the bar exam tonight. It was worth it and I'm glad I made the time to go. I've never laughed so hard.

It felt good to be among regular people (skewed toward attorneys), laughing and drinking and talking and doing the things that regular people usually do. My life feels out of whack right now, and even though I know it's short-lived, and for a good cause, it's still tough to go through, especially during the summer.

Summertime is for going out. For drinking. For laughing. For being outside and walking around the city. For hanging out with friends, for meeting new people, for flirting, for reconnecting after the long winter. For dancing. For talking. For being around the energy that is particular to the summer, the stay-up-late, stays-light-til-9, warm-outside-don't-need-a-jacket weather.

For so long, I have planned to go someplace exotic after the bar, someplace I've never been, a big, giant-once-in-a-lifetime trip. My ex-partner and I talked a lot about going to Italy, and after she broke up with me, I thought that I might still go by myself. But right now, I like the idea of just driving around the U.S., and staying close to home, seeing people I like and love who I have seen far too little of in the last 3 years. Seeing people who make me laugh and who I feel connected with. I think that might be what I want to look forward to most after the bar exam.

Bar Mnemonics

Favorites from over at A Girl Walks into a Bar (Exam):

For Contracts Questions:

Until Fall, Test Pressure, Exhaustion, Both Threaten Romance

U: UCC or CL
F: Formation
T: Terms of K
P: Performance
E: Excuses
B: Breach
T: Third Party Issues
R: Remedies

For Collateral Estoppel:

PIANO

Party in prior lawsuit
Identical issue
Actually litigated and determined
Necessarily determined
Opportunity to litigate (full and fair)

HEARSAY EXCEPTIONS:

BAD SPLITS, PEPPI

B Business records
A Admission by party opponent
D Dying declaration

S Spontaneous statements (excited utterance and present sense impression
P Past recollection recorded
L Learned treatise
I Interest Declaration against
T Testimony, Former
S State of mind or condition

P Public records
E Equivalency (residual, catch-all)
P Prior inconsistent statement
P Prior consistent statement
I Identification

SOF:ORGASM

One year
Real estate
Goods $500
Administraor/Executor/Agency
Surety
Marriage

Ordinarily one owes no duty to another unless SCRAP:

Statutory
Contract
Relationship (special like spousal, parent child...)
Assumption of duty
Peril (if one causes it)

Martha and Me

These days, I feel a special connection, a cameraderie, with Martha Stewart. We're both in lockdown, only allowed out for a few hours every day. Of course, I don't have to wear the black ankle bracelet, and I don't have the 150-acre estate, or the probation officer, but still.

Suddenly, everyday things have become special treats. Like showering. Or washing dishes. Or changing my sheets. When did laundry become something to look forward to?

Tomorrow, I'm going to a birthday party -- an actual social event. But here's the thing: I'm not sure that I can actually string words together anymore.

I went to a diner for lunch today with my best friend (it was a working lunch, quizzing each other on mnemonics the whole time) and the waitress asked me a bunch of questions. It sort of went like this:

Waitress: How would you like your eggs?

Me: Ummm.

Waitress: White, wheat or rye toast?

Me: Umm.

Waitress: What kind of juice?

Me: I'd like my eggs scrambled.

It's like I'm on some kind of 7-second time delay. And I'm not sure I can hold up a conversation without blurting out a pneumonic device or something I've remembered, in a Tourettte's kind of way. Like: "The Fireman's Rule applies to police officers, too" or "The warranty of habitability only applies to residential leases" or "Fee simple determinables have the possibility of reverter." I have lost the fragile grasp I once had on the outside world.

I can't wait to get my brain back.

Sophie's Choice

For the last 8 weeks, I have had a 20 oz. cup of coffee from WaWa at 8:30 every morning. I am addicted to caffeine. If I do not have that cup of coffee, I will get a horrible caffeine-withdrawal headache.

But I have apparently picked up a nastly little intestinal bug, and well, coffee is just about the last thing I want to put in my stomach right now.

So there's the dilemma: coffee or no coffee? Either way, I think it's going to be bad.

UPDATE: I chose coffee, pragmatically. Without it, I thought my head would hurt too much, and it would be harder to study. I figured I could study, err, anywhere.

Yanks Over Sox

I'd just like to take this opportunity to gloat over my New England friends who have the bad taste to be Sox fans. Yankees won tonight, of course, 8-6. I think they may sweep the series. This puts them a scant 1.5 games out of first place.

Best Fruit Dip, Ever

Mix 1/2 part Fluff and 1/2 part cream cheese until well-blended and slightly fluffy. Chill and serve with fruit.

Okay, now granted, it's not a fancy fruit dip. And if you tell party guests what's in it, they might look at you slightly askance. I mean, you're serving them Fluff. But really, it is the best dip ever. Doesn't really taste Fluff-like. It's creamy and sweet, but not too sweet, and goes really well with strawberries.

Things to Ponder While Studying Future Interests in Property

Why does my lumbar support pillow have a warning label on it? It says, "Not to be used for sleeping" and "For decorative purposes only."

Why can't it be used for sleeping? I mean, it's a pillow. And if it's for decorative purposes, why do they call it a Lumbar Support? Why don't they just call it a Squishy Cushion?

The New Jersey Board of Examiners makes bar candidates write a letter if they need to bring in anything not on the approved list. So when I right my required letter to them to bring in a "special device" (which makes me feel vaguely naughty), how do I reference it? Should I say I want to bring in my Lumbar Support pillow (not to be used for sleeping), or should I just say I'd like to bring in a Squishy Cushion?

How Law School Graduates Talk

I noticed yesterday that law school graduates, at least the ones I know, no longer speak traditional English. We now all speak some version of legalese, but it's not like we're talking about legal matters. Usually, it's related to romantic or dating interests.

Here is a partial list of phrases I have heard from recent law school graduates in the past month:

1. "In the interest of full disclosure..." [insert some personal revelation here, like "I'm dating someone else besides you," or "I hooked up last night," or "I got so drunk I spent the night praying to the porcelain gods..."]

2. "I concur." [to be used instead of "That sounds good to me," or "I agree with what you're saying."]

3. "My docket is full," or "I have room on my docket." [referring to people you are dating, and whether you may or may not have room to date additional people]

4. "Was it reasonably foreseeable....?" [that she would have a girlfriend, that the movie would be sold out, that you would bomb the simulated MBE BarBri exam]

and my personal favorite...

5. "I got her to admit that she was constructively dating [insert woman's name]."

This is not normal.

UPDATE: 6. "It's great that X wants to date Y, but Y has to want to date X, too. It's got to be a BILATERAL CONTRACT."

UPDATE: 7. This morning's gem: "I don't play 'hide the ball' with her" [referencing clear, open communication about relationships.]

Good News From the Abyss

I performed terribly on the BarBri simulated MBE, and just as badly on the PMBR simulated MBE a week later. I mean, really badly. Now, granted, I hadn't really studied thoroughly. Or consistently. I was unfocused. I've had a lot going on to distract me.

But still. I do want to pass this thing.

And right now, things have been looking up since Friday, when I spent a good portion of the night bawling uncontrollably to my best friend. (Yes, it was very sad. I am not a crier by nature, and when it happens, well, I think it surprises everyone a little, myself included. And quite frankly, it's happened a bit too often in the past two months for my comfort, what with the breakup and all.)

Anyway. I digress. Back to the happy ending. First, I bought Melissa Ferrick's new CD, The Other Side, which is great. But mostly, I've been studying, which has had a (surprisingly) calming effect. And today, I got back one of my BarBri graded essays. I did it in about 30 minutes one morning, a few weeks ago, without any advance prep. And here's the thing: I GOT A PASSING GRADE! Sure, the examiner tore apart my essay. I got some of the law wrong. And I didn't quite follow CRAC. But it was passing. PASSING! Perhaps I have emerged from the abyss of bar terror. Perhaps.

God, PMBR, BarBri and the Bar

I think organized religion is missing a huge untapped market: bar candidates.

I am not a religious person, though I like going to (progressive, liberal) religious things sometimes.

But I now pray regularly. Five or six times a day. I pray for divine intervention. I pray to dead relatives. I pray to gods of all persuasions. This morning, I said the Shma'a, the holiest of Jewish prayers. During BarBri's mini-bar, I said a quick Our Father. And tonight, some mindful meditation.

Mostly, I pray for bar passage. I pray not to have to do this again in February. I pray that my studying, which is come-lately, will be enough. I pray that I will be able to remember it all, that it won't leak out of my head in the middle of the night. I pray that I won't lose my breakfast the mornings of the exam. I pray that I will have the attention span and emotional stamina to stay focused. I pray that other people are praying for me. I pray that all the praying will be enough. And, mostly, I pray that I don't get one of the Fantasy Suites at the Radisson Hotel Valley Forge, the site of the Pennsylvania Bar Exam, because quite frankly, they scare me.

In Memoriam: Katie Worsky

Twenty-three years ago, on July 12, 1982, my cousin Katie disappeared from her friend's house. Vanished, as if into thin air.

She was 12. Katie was slight, tomboyish, with blonde hair and buck teeth. She was diabetic and took insulin shots. She liked to fish and run around, and she was mischievous. She had a great smile, and a Southern accent that would make you know in an instant that she was from Virginia. She is missed. Her body was never found.

Glenn Barker was charged with Katie's murder, and convicted of second-degree murder in 1983. He served 9 years in jail before being released on parole.

I was 11 when I watched the trial of my cousin's killer. I remember how sweet and soft-spoken the prosecutor was. I remember that I was wearing shorts, and the wooden benches stuck to the back of my legs. I remember I hated Glenn Barker. I remember thinking that Katie would walk through the door any minute, that she was just playing a trick on us. But most of all, I remember that I wanted to be like that prosecutor, that I wanted to be a lawyer.

It's so close now. I've finished law school, my diploma safely stored in the back of my closet. After such a long time, there's only one hurdle left, the bar exam. And then, finally, I will be a lawyer.

Iced Coffee and Metal Spoons

I have been making iced coffee since I was a teenager. I learned from my mom. I have always put a metal spoon in the glass, along with the ice, as she did. She told me to always do this, because the spoon absorbs the heat from the coffee and prevents the glass from cracking.

Is this really true? I mean, it sounds like it should be true: metal is a good conductor of heat, and so takes the heat away from the coffee and the glass. Or did she just make it up somewhere along the way, and I have always done it that way because she does it that way?

Turning Into a Trained Monkey

15 hours into my 3-day PMBR course, I realized that I am a trained monkey. I have now completed 7 weeks of BarBri and 3 days of PMBR.

I now pee on demand. I wait for the 10 minute break at the end of the hour (BarBri), or the 15-minute mid-morning and mid-afternoon break (PMBR).

I write things down when they tell me to.

I try and remember inane pneumonic devices, like Bach Pies or ABC Fitts or COPE or SEX.

Yesterday afternoon, the PMBR lady told me I had had a long, hard day. That I deserved a break. That I didn't have to study anymore yesterday. I believed it. PMBR lady knows best.

So I went out. She told me to.

I am also afraid to move my head too fast, because I think the little information I have currently stored in there will fall out.

Serendipity, Redux

You are walking down the street, again, for a split time, and a split second, and then again, you look up, and across the street, and then, you see, for the second time in two days, that person again.

This time, it is slightly less shocking, slightly less unexpected, and yet still, your heart beats a little faster. The person smiles and waves, and you think you smile and wave and shrug your shoulders a little bit, as if to say, "What are the chances of this?" But really, you're not too sure what you did, because it all seems so surreal, and you are in a rush, to your meeting, and so you just put one foot in front of the other.

Serendipity

It's a weird thing, when you see someone in a time and at a place where you never expected to see them. You do a double-take, and then again, and then think, "NO!" That can't be that person, sitting right there, in front of you.

But it is. And you are.

And then, because you don't know what else to do, and because that person is pretending that no, it is not you, that you are not in front of them, you shake your head, in disbelief over the karmic powers of the world, and head outside.

Blogging and the Non-Blog World, and Honesty

Over the past few days, I've been thinking a lot about spiritual honesty, and about what it means to be honest in my relationships. I try and act toward others the way I would want others to act toward me, and I am sometimes successful, and sometimes not.

But I find myself struggling with this idea of what it actually means to be honest, because it seems to be a much slippery concept than just truth-telling. It seems as if truth-telling is just a small part of honesty. I struggle with how much to tell people, and when, about my life, about who I am, about the decisions I am making about how to live my life.

To some extent, I struggle with that in this blog, so there might be a little bit of a plea for help here. People read what I've written, and sometimes, I get nice emails or comments or people say something to me in person about what I've written. I love that! But more often than not, I have no idea who exactly is reading. That means that there is often the possibility that people who read this blog know more about me, about what I think and who I am, then I have disclosed to them in our non-blog interactions. Sometimes, that's okay. But other times, that's a weird spot to be in, for both of us, I think.

I like writing here, and I plan to continue to do so. I also like when people write comments or emails, so if you are inclined to do so, please know that it will make me smile. And if you're reading, and we interact in the non-blog world, maybe you could let me know somehow that you're reading. We could even talk about it. I think it might make us closer, more connected, more honest. Which is how I'd like us to be.

Different Ways to Think About Studying for the Bar

(real advice given by real, live attorneys)

* Consider your studying a guided meditation. (I had a hard time really understanding this one.)

* Consider it boot camp: study for 3 hours without getting up, take an hour break, then study for 3 more hours. This will help train your body and give you the stamina you need on test days.

* Consider it the last test of your life.

* Make a chart and plot out how you will spend the next 20 days, hour by hour. Stick to it.

* Consider how hard you have worked in law school over the last three (or four) years. Remember that you have earned the privilege to sit for the bar. Remember that it *is* a privilege. Make yourself proud. (I think this last one is my current favorite.)

Yanks Are In It

All you Yankees-haters out there can't keep us down. From today's New York Times:

After playing so poorly for much of the first three months, the Yankees are squarely in the pennant race.

Watch out, Sox. We're coming for you.

Proof that Misery Loves Company

I enjoyed reading Sua Sponte's post on her simulated MBE score. Call it schadenfreude, call it commiseration, call it empathy. The bottom line is, it made me feel better to read this:

Even after two glasses of wine ... my miserable result still smarts. I don't want to do well on the bar exam; I just want to pass. And right now I am nowhere near passing.

Oh, I feel your pain.

Random Quotes You Can Buy in a Packet at CVS

I have no idea what this quote means, but for some reason, it made me laugh. I mean, I guess I do sort of know what it means, but, well, it's not particularly profound or thought-provoking, and, I think it's funny.

Clearly, I have a low threshold for funny these days.

Life is short and the world is wide.
-Simon Raven

I mean, what the hell is that about? I think I am going to start manufacturing my own profound quotes. Like:

Sleep with the cows and wake up in the hay.

or

Run with the horses and step in manure.

or

Fetch eggs from the hen house and end up with the chickens.

Ok. Whatever. They may or may not be funny. Cut me some slack. The bar, remember?

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.

Old Commencement Speech By Anne Lamott...

that makes me remember that the bar isn't the whole world, even when it feels like it is...

Here's a snippet:

We can see spirit made visible in people being kind to each other, especially when it's a really busy person, taking care of a needy annoying person. Or even if it's terribly important you, stopping to take care of pitiful, pathetic you. In fact, that's often when we see spirit most brightly.

It's magic to see spirit largely because it's so rare. Mostly you see the masks and the holograms that the culture presents as real. You see how you're doing in the world's eyes, or your family's, or -- worst of all -- yours, or in the eyes of people who are doing better than you -- much better than you -- or worse. But you are not your bank account, or your ambitiousness. You're not the cold clay lump with a big belly you leave behind when you die. You're not your collection of walking personality disorders. You are spirit, you are love, and, while it is increasingly hard to believe during this presidency, you are free. You're here to love, and be loved, freely. If you find out next week that you are terminally ill -- and we're all terminally ill on this bus -- all that will matter is memories of beauty, that people loved you, and you loved them, and that you tried to help the poor and innocent.

You can read the whole speech here.

Of course, this doesn't negate the whole studying-for-the-bar thing, because for me, it's all somehow connected to that, to taking care of myself and others, and the world, even though some days I just want to move somewhere and open a tiny ice cream shop bookstore and it feels like I've ended up in a vastly different place from the one I imagined three years ago when I started. But somehow, today, it makes me feel a little better about the whole thing.

Last Call: Fireworks, Massages and BarBri

So, it's last call: the final hours until All Bar, All the Time. I spent my last wee hours of freedom in Narberth, which, I learned tonight, has its own song. (It starts out "Narberth is a big little town," and goes from there.) It's a sweet little town, though I can't comment on its "big littleness" and today, they had a festival during the day, before the fireworks.

I'm a sucker for fireworks, especially small-town ones. Everyone sitting together, all crowded on a big field, little kids covering their ears, ice cream dripping down their shirts. I love looking up at the sky with everyone else; it feels so ... human. And Kevin Murphy did a nice job DJing the display, including ABBA, Kool & the Gang and The Foundations ("Build Me Up, Buttercup) in his musical selections. I don't think I ever heard ABBA on July 4, and I have to say, it was a pleasant surprise. I also noticed a few other BarBri-ites walking around, which gave me a certain peace. Of course, unlike me, they may have been studying all last month, but still.

Lastly, I highly recommend to those of you sitting for the July bar to get yourself a friend, preferably a close one, who is attending massage therapy school. My friend massagelady is doing just such a thing (hence, the nickname), and has to practice her newly honed massage skills. Nothing like a 30-minute back/neck/head massage to work out the stress of studying/not studying/worrying about studying for the bar.

The Dark Underbelly: July and the Bar Exam

July's here, the long weekend almost gone, and well, it's about to get ugly. I slept in today, the first time in awhile that I've had a good night's sleep. I am grateful for that.

But when I awoke, it was July 4. 22 days away from the beginning of the bar exam. Whew. You know, I knew it would come. I knew there would come a day when it stopped being fun, when it stopped feeling like Camp BarBri, when it stopped feeling funny and entertaining like the big Kumbaya-fest of June. When I stopped celebrating my law school graduation and started realizing that to practice law, I actually need to pass the bar.

Nobody really tells you this outright, but many allude to it: July's when the rubber meets the road. Many people blow off studying in June, but nobody blows off studying in July. At least nobody who passes.

I no longer feel able to write funny little witticisms about BarBri; I just feel a little dark, and a lot scared. Sort of like first-year exams, multiplied by 10. My exam-studying process has always been a little... um, nontraditional, and I suppose that the bar will be no different. Since I do my best thinking in the shower, I thought maybe I would just move in there for the month. Here goes.

The Way Home

I usually take the long way home through the city on Sunday nights. I have a standing meeting there every week, on the western edge of Center City. It's in a church pre-school nursery, with pin-ups of different colors and shapes on bulletin boards and a wall of children's cubby holes filled with diapers and extra clothes and art smocks.

After the meeting, I could hop on the expressway; it would be quicker. But I take Lincoln Drive. It's a curvy, windy road that hugs the river and makes drivers swear at themselves. But on nights like tonight, Lincoln Drive is the right way home. My windows down, moonroof open, music turned up loud enough to drown out my singing, the river on my left, I'm surrounded by green: big old, crazy trees that stretch way up to the sky and blend one right into the other.

At Night

Does it rain where you are? Come down in light patter that sounds like Rice Krispies snap-crackle-popping against your window waking you up? Do you think it's the air conditioner breaking, like I did, making some strange foreign noise just after you have drifted off to sleep? Does the lightening strike where you are, lighting up your window like day, making you smile, sleepy, when you realize, oh right, yes, it's just a random storm in the middle of the night?

Supreme Court: What You Can Do RIGHT NOW

From Daily Kos:

by DavidNYC

Fri Jul 1st, 2005 at 13:00:27 PDT

Whatever happens with the Supreme Court nomination battle that is about to ensue, it's going to happen fast. Here are some things you can do right now:

• If you have a cell phone, sign up for People at the American Way's Mass Immediate Response site. This way, you'll be able to receive text message action items instantly as events break. (If you signed up during the nuclear option fight, you'll need to re-sign up.)

• Also sign up with the Save the Court, another PFAW website devoted specifically to this issue.

• Recruit friends and family members to the cause.

• Write to the President, telling him he should choose a consensus candidate to replace O'Connor.

• Contact your Senators to tell them the same thing.

Update [2005-7-1 14:57:41 by DavidNYC]: Some more stuff you can do:

• Sign MoveOn's "Protect Our Rights" petition.

• Contact members of the media and tell them you think Bush should nominate a consensus candidate. PLEASE be polite, be brief (200 words or less), and don't do copy-and-paste jobs - put things in your own words.