Eh, Wacha' Gonna Do?

Well, I finally got "Carried" away today (something I'd wanted to do since May 31, but *sigh* let's just say life wouldn't let me.)

I feel like I've watched every episode of SATC at least 3 times thanks to Netflix and reruns on basic cable, so no one could have been chomping on the bit to see the movie as much as I was. Talk about "great sexpectations."

And it wasn't really disappointing. I don't know. I have mixed feelings. It might take a while for me to sort this through--perhaps as long as it took Carrie to sort out her feelings for Big (aka Mr. Preston, ugh--dumb name).

The only strong feeling I had after the viewing was emotional trauma. I felt like my heart had been ripped from my body and put in a blender for 2.5 hours. How much excruciating ups and downs can a person take in an afternoon?!

And I definitely didn't like the "dark" Carrie--her Alanis Morissette phase, if you will. That's not the Carrie I know and love. Carrie is bright, and witty, and a chin-up kind of gal. The tv Carrie never had a problem a few martinis and some pot couldn't solve! (cf. the time when she got broken up with by a post-it).

But I did love the Miranda and Steve story arch. I thought it did pretty good justice to, what I imagine, a jilted spouse might feel like and go through without taking either spouse's side.

But all in all, I left the theatre feeling pretty sad.

I've always hated romantic movies of all kinds--comedies, dramas, animation. They always seem to make "Love" seem bigger than life, impossible, unattainable, and desperately missing from everyone's life but the heroine's. It's like "Love" is more exclusive than even haute couture, but also a thousand times more enviable. The sine qua non of existence. The Holy Grail.

Pish posh.

There's more to life than love. And "Love" doesn't exist. I believe in love, just not "Love."

Why can't there be a romantic movie with that point of view? Cuz that movie I think I would like!

Going for Bronze

Inspired by the upcoming Games, I've analogized my post-bar experience thus far to the bronze medal. Not the best, not exhilirating, but not bad either.

While my classmates are off to the far-flung corners of the earth--Mount Kilimanjaro, China, Tibet, etc--revelling in their last free moments before The Man chains them to a desk for life, I've just been a lazy bum/homebody.

My days have been filled with organizing, organizing, and organizing. And a lot of tv breaks. (Tivo + Cable TV = the end to productivity as I knew it, aka, TV on crack).

We just moved into a new abode and it's finally time to purge the apartment of all the crap we really didn't need to lug all the way from Boston. And then fill it up with new crap from Ikea!

I think I'm finally starting to get over the trauma of the whole bar "experience." I did have a mini-panic attack as I was storing away all my bar materials and I did have nightmares about the bar for five straight nights in a row AFTER the last day of the bar.

But now I think I mostly got it out of my system, so to speak. Although, I still have a strong visceral aversion to it--it's like Voldemort--he whose name must not be spoken. Just blogging about it now made me throw up a little in my mouth.

Blankity Blank

Well, I'm out.

The test was three blurry days, blurred into one blurry haze. Punctuated with bad homemade sandwiches, a fried egg slapped on wheat bread. A handful of almonds.

And a lot of sweaty biking to and fro from the test site.

And some short excerpts from Wicked: The Life and Times of the Wicked Witch of the West, to help me sleep at night. (Love that book! Good writing!)

And horribly bad breath from dehydration. Can't waste precious test time on trips to the bathroom!

I definitely didn't do the level of work I wanted to. I definitely missed at least one big chunk of points in my last performance test. I definitely guessed on more than half of my multiple-choice questions.

So, it's kind of a crapshoot.

And now the prophecy is true: the worst part of the bar is the time between now and November 21 when the results get posted.

Passively waiting is the hardest thing to do. I imagine this must be what the cancer patient feels like, waiting for his biopsy results. Or the defendant waiting for the jury verdict. Except of course there's less on the line.

But now I have to face "real life" again. And I found myself completely unable to orient myself to life without the bar.

It's like a mild exam-version of the Stockholm Syndrome. Afterall, the bar has held me captive for over 2 months now. We had a symbiotic relationship. The bar told me what to do everyday for hours at a time. The bar flooded my mind, my dreams, my every waking moment.

How do I live without it? Who am I without the bar? What do I do now? It's too overwhelming. I have no more excuses to not live responsibly.

Is this how newly released prisoners feel like? No wonder they deliberately commit a crime to get thrown back in. Life on the outside is too strange.

So far I'm coping the only way I know how: endless reruns of Project Runway on my tivo.

Aufwiederzehn.

Pixie My Heart

It was bound to happen eventually.

I think most people have already long succumbed to her charms, so it was only a matter of time before I jumped on the I-have-a-huge-crush-on-Natalie-Portman bus.

What pushed me over the edge? Two things. Ok, 3.

First, you never see her. I'm surfing celebrity gossip blogs day and night but there's never any whiff of the lovely Ms. Portman. She's certainly never doing anything tacky or inane, but she doesn't even appear on the radar mostly!

That's discreet, subtle, crush-worthy. Humility is underrated, especially in Hollywood.

And Natalie is so much classier than her much-toted counterpart, Scarlett Johansson. They're both known for being more mature than your typical starlett, but ScarJo is like the low-rent, lamer version.

Second, Natalie's brilliant.

And third, I saw her on Project Runway this week as a guest judge and she could not BE anymore adorable. She was humble, sweet, insightful, kind, unaffected, real, genuine, sincere, articulate...need I go on? I saved it on my tivo just to watch her talk about fabric and fashion over and over again. Sigh...so lovely.

Natalie for president!

Eek!

I almost wet myself when I saw my blog counter.

3 days until the bar?!?!

Ambivalent

I'll never forget learning the meaning of "ambivalent" in junior high. Or was it elementary school? Or was it high school?

Ok, so I forgot the context of learning the word, but I remember the actual learning part!

It was memorable because it was the first time a vocab lesson cleared up a major misconception for me. Amibvalent does not mean (what I thought it did) that you're like, "eh, whatever, I don't care about the outcome either way, I'm ambivalent"

It means you feel *very* strongly about both opposite points of the spectrum. Like when a guy has to choose between a blonde and a cute brunette. Who do I marry? On one hand, Cindy is so cute and blonde and perky. But on the other hand, Lisa is so mature, and proper, and brunette.

Well I'm ambivalent about taking the bar. On one hand, it's like YES! GET IT OVER WITH! BREATH AGAIN! LIVE AGAIN! LOVE AGAIN! LAUGH AGAIN!

And on the other hand, it's like, no, please, no, please please don't make me go through with this...

But then again, I would really really really LOVE to get this over with.

But then again, I would really really really LOVE to have more time to study...

The End is Near

And it's time to get HARD CORE.

I mean really hard core.

I've disabled my internet AND
deleted solitaire from microsoft games!

Now every. Hour. Counts.

Unfortunately I wasted a half hour perusing the previous years' exam subjects, trying to figure out which subjects I might be able to "skip" studying. Risky, but it's a risk I just may have to take...

Community Property was tested the last two times in a row, probably won't pop up for my exam, right?

It's triage time baby.

Fear Itself

I'm realizing now that by far the most important aspect of the bar exam is psychology.

And I think I'm losing that mind game.

I'm a pessimist, a worst-case-scenario kind of person. Aren't all lawyers?

The old joke the profs told us in lawschool was: Why are you all not in business school?

Ans: Because you're risk averse!

And there is a lot of truth to that, at least in my case. I am uber-uber-risk averse. I seriously *feel* in my gut that I'm failing when I get below 85%. Michael rolls his eyes everytime I predict gloom and doom because time and again, the event passes with such wide margins of error, you could drive a semi through it.

But still...the mind plays games on you.

After all, I barely passed the MPRE.

And I keep failing those damn BarBri essays.

And people do fail...even those from great lawschools, like the former Dean of Stanford.

Because ultimately, it's not a test of intelligence, but a test of guts. How well can you control The Fear?

I have half a mind to check into a meditation clinic the last week before the exam and learn some deep-breathing and visualization techniques. Who needs to know the finer points of law when a mind-freeze could blow everything?

Our last BarBri lecturer told us to practice visualization exercises:

"Imagine you're having dinner, watching some tv. You go to bed, you're nervous and can't fall asleep...but eventually you do. You wake up refreshed, you go to the testing site, etc."

I'm not sure this technique is so great for me. As I start visualizing, my heart beats really fast and my stomach clenches, and I have to pull the plug on this mind experiment before I get a full on panic attack! Not the kind of behavioral reinforcement I want to create!

How do you deal with fear?

Have a Nice Day!

If clothes could talk, that's what this number would say...

Meanwhile, I'm counting down the days until I can finally have a nice day. Check out my bar countdown counter to the right. ----->

p.s. The more I stare at her dress (Colin Firth's wife), the more I like it! As hideous as it is, you can't say she doesn't have cajones, chutzpah, and a whopping-sized helping of humor. I bet she's a really funny/fun person...in a dry, witty, British way. I can "see" why Colin married her. Ha!

Hellathon Week 5.9: All by my lonesome

Tonight my every-loving husband is going to be here, at the local community center ping-pong tournament.

I'll be home. Alone. On a Friday night. Studying. [cue the violins]

That's one of the worst things about this whole bar study experience, the solitude. Although there are at least 50 people in my classes every night, they don't know me from Adam. But they all know each other!

During break times I cast around forlornly, looking for a kind soul to befriend, but so far I've only made a couple abortive attempts.

First there was Bridget, a skinny trendy white girl who seemed alarmed when I accidently blurted out, "Where do you live?" I guess that's kind of a creepy question to ask someone you just met 2 seconds ago. After that botched intro, she proceeded to take a seat far far away from me in the waaaay back of class.

Next there was Mike, a slightly chubby white guy with a full beard and a friendly smile. We made polite chit-chat and then I too eagerly started grilling him about his Barbri experience. How many hours do you study? How are you memorizing your outlines? Did you pass the graded essay?

I think he thinks I'm really lame (for good reason) and doesn't say 'hi' to me anymore.

Everyone else I just can't seem to get any traction with. A smile, some eye-contact--it always get slapped away with a frown. Sheesh people, whatever happened to being friendly?!

So now I'm a total loner, which is probably the hardest part of this whole horrid experience. I can't compare notes, feel reassurance from others' literal and moral failures, or even commiserate with the only people who truly know the special kind of pain that is Barbri.

But it does make me grateful for my number one friend, Michael. Except when he abandons me for the love of the sport. Sigh.

Hellathon Week 5: Bitterness and Gall

I'm entering a new phase in bar study time, marked by intense feelings of rage and bitterness.

I'm starting to hate everyone and everything in sight as my bitterness toward Barbri grows to unprecedented proportions.

I resent their stupid Paced Program schedule that I've never been able to follow. Are they kidding me? I have to work my ass off just to do HALF the things on their damn list!

I resent their stupid study suggestions: 5-8 hours a day. 5-8 hours a day?! Impossible! My back hurts, I've given up tv, I barely check my email, I don't exercise, I eat crap, and I can only eek out at most 3-6 hours a day.

I resent their stupid graded assignments. Go ahead, fail me. Fail every single one of my essays. Fail me for the multiple-choice questions. Fail me for the performance exams. Up yours! I'm starting to nurture a cynical attitude to the whole process. Of course it's in Barbri's best interest to fail students...makes them study harder, lights a huge bonfire under their ass...not much downside for them either...

And I resent this whole notion of having to take the bar at all! I went through 3 years of an ABA accredited lawschool. Isn't that enough for you people?! You're the ones that certified my lawschool in the first place! Why the heck would you certify the school if you weren't assured that its graduates would be competent members of your oh so precious bar?!?!?!?!

Sigh.

Poor Michael. I'm a b*tch to live with.

:-)

Thank you Brooks

This, from a guy who was (and maybe still is) pro-Obama:

The Two Obamas
David Brooks, NYTimes

God, Republicans are saps. They think that they’re running against some academic liberal who wouldn’t wear flag pins on his lapel, whose wife isn’t proud of America and who went to some liberationist church where the pastor damned his own country. They think they’re running against some naïve university-town dreamer, the second coming of Adlai Stevenson.

But as recent weeks have made clear, Barack Obama is the most split-personality politician in the country today. On the one hand, there is Dr. Barack, the high-minded, Niebuhr-quoting speechifier who spent this past winter thrilling the Scarlett Johansson set and feeling the fierce urgency of now. But then on the other side, there’s Fast Eddie Obama, the promise-breaking, tough-minded Chicago pol who’d throw you under the truck for votes.

This guy is the whole Chicago package: an idealistic, lakefront liberal fronting a sharp-elbowed machine operator. He’s the only politician of our lifetime who is underestimated because he’s too intelligent. He speaks so calmly and polysyllabically that people fail to appreciate the Machiavellian ambition inside.

But he’s been giving us an education, for anybody who cares to pay attention. Just try to imagine Mister Rogers playing the agent Ari in “Entourage” and it all falls into place.

Back when he was in the Illinois State Senate, Dr. Barack could have taken positions on politically uncomfortable issues. But Fast Eddie Obama voted “present” nearly 130 times. From time to time, he threw his voting power under the truck.

Dr. Barack said he could no more disown the Rev. Jeremiah Wright than disown his own grandmother. Then the political costs of Rev. Wright escalated and Fast Eddie Obama threw Wright under the truck.

Dr. Barack could have been a workhorse senator. But primary candidates don’t do tough votes, so Fast Eddie Obama threw the workhorse duties under the truck.

Dr. Barack could have changed the way presidential campaigning works. John McCain offered to have a series of extended town-hall meetings around the country. But favored candidates don’t go in for unscripted free-range conversations. Fast Eddie Obama threw the new-politics mantra under the truck.

And then on Thursday, Fast Eddie Obama had his finest hour. Barack Obama has worked on political reform more than any other issue. He aspires to be to political reform what Bono is to fighting disease in Africa. He’s spent much of his career talking about how much he believes in public financing. In January 2007, he told Larry King that the public-financing system works. In February 2007, he challenged Republicans to limit their spending and vowed to do so along with them if he were the nominee. In February 2008, he said he would aggressively pursue spending limits. He answered a Midwest Democracy Network questionnaire by reminding everyone that he has been a longtime advocate of the public-financing system.

But Thursday, at the first breath of political inconvenience, Fast Eddie Obama threw public financing under the truck. In so doing, he probably dealt a death-blow to the cause of campaign-finance reform. And the only thing that changed between Thursday and when he lauded the system is that Obama’s got more money now.

And Fast Eddie Obama didn’t just sell out the primary cause of his life. He did it with style. He did it with a video so risibly insincere that somewhere down in the shadow world, Lee Atwater is gaping and applauding. Obama blamed the (so far marginal) Republican 527s. He claimed that private donations are really public financing. He made a cut-throat political calculation seem like Mother Teresa’s final steps to sainthood.

The media and the activists won’t care (they were only interested in campaign-finance reform only when the Republicans had more money). Meanwhile, Obama’s money is forever. He’s got an army of small donors and a phalanx of big money bundlers, including, according to The Washington Post, Kenneth Griffin of the Citadel Investment Group; Kirk Wager, a Florida trial lawyer; James Crown, a director of General Dynamics; and Neil Bluhm, a hotel, office and casino developer.

I have to admit, I’m ambivalent watching all this. On the one hand, Obama did sell out the primary cause of his professional life, all for a tiny political advantage. If he’ll sell that out, what won’t he sell out? On the other hand, global affairs ain’t beanbag. If we’re going to have a president who is going to go toe to toe with the likes of Vladimir Putin, maybe it is better that he should have a ruthlessly opportunist Fast Eddie Obama lurking inside.

All I know for sure is that this guy is no liberal goo-goo. Republicans keep calling him naïve. But naïve is the last word I’d use to describe Barack Obama. He’s the most effectively political creature we’ve seen in decades. Even Bill Clinton wasn’t smart enough to succeed in politics by pretending to renounce politics.

Hellathon Week 4: WT"F"?!

Today I got back my first graded assignment from Barbri, an essay on Torts.

I thought I did a reasonably good job. I expected to pass with a pretty good margin. Afterall, I attended all the lectures, dutifully attended to my outline, and gave back almost verbatim all the rules and elements they told me.

So imagine my horror at the big "F" staring me in the face on the last page of my assignment.

An "F" for fail. Are you kidding me?! Usually I would feel embarrassed about failing something, but instead, I just feel pissed off. Really. Pissed. Off.

Now is not the time for misdirection and lack of clarity! Was my essay really unpassable, or was the grader just lacking incentive to grade more accurately? Did I not pass because I didn't apply IRAC throughout, or just because I failed to do so in one isolated area of privacy torts? Why were vast paragraphs unmarked and only one commented on?

The most frustrating part is that I don't think I'll get any good answers to these questions. There's no one to ask! I go to class and watch a video everyday!

Argh.

Class of 2008

Michael loves making collages: (click to enlarge)


Left to right, top to bottom:

1. My beautiful family
2. The Girls
3. Me and Bobby (not McGee): future firm officemates
4. Overuling Emily!
5. Me and Stanley, guarantor of endless room and board in Hawaii?
6. Me and Scott, fellow Bay Area native
7. Me and Rebecca--I'm calling it now: Circuit Court Judge
8. Me and Mike--my first friend in law school.
9. Lovely Alanna!
10. First workgroup, fun!

Hellathon Week 3: Languishing in Barland

There's something about weekends that make you naturally reflective about the past week.

As I reflect on my past week, I see nothing but inefficiency and disappointment. My lofty goal of studying 5 hours a day (aside from the 4 hour lectures) were never met. Not even for one day. On average, I studied a pathetic 2.5 hours per day.

After having a mild panic attack, I vow to do better next week.

I will start memorizing substantive law.
I will take shorter breaks.
I will study 5-6 hours a day!

Nothing soothes the bitter gall of regret like the balm of over-optimism. Hey, whatever helps you sleep at night...

Even the bar is better in California!

Now that I've been on California soil for almost a week, it's starting to sink in how superior this golden state is to New England.

I love the temperate weather, the lack of sporadic rain showers, the wide boulevards, even studying for the bar has become so much more bearable here! Dare I say it, my life has actually taken on a rather relaxing rhythm:

Wake up, study.
Lunch break, study.
Chore break, study.
Go to bar lectures,
sleep.

It also helps tremendously that this temporary sublet has no tv and internet. For entertainment I'm now resorting to looking at the pictures saved on my computer--how sad is that! Oh internet shopping, if only I could peruse your virtual aisles once again...

The last bar lecturer I've had was fantastic: David Epstein. Don't let the name fool you. I expected a typical Jewish looking fellow. Instead, the man is blond-haired, fair skinned, and sports the thickest Texan accent I've ever heard!

He has an uncommon love for Sharon Stone and manages to work her into most of his hypotheticals. The key point in the hypo also always manages to turn on whether or not Sharon Stone was doing something rather intimate with him...like being in the shower. I kid you not, that was an actual dispositive fact!

On the last day of his lectures Epstein suprised us all by wearing a t-shirt. Most lecturers sport a button-down and tie. On the shirt was a picture of the lovely Sharon Stone with her name on it. Halfway through the lecture his microphone clip slips and he fumbles to clip it back to his shirt. While doing so he says in his thick accent, "I'm sorry to have to fondle Ms. Stone in front of y'all." The class erupts in laughter and Epstein flushes a deep red.

I love this guy.

First of many...more to come...

Happy Graduation to me and the Class of 2008!

Alice in transit

Packing, shipping, moving
all my crap
to California!

Hopping on a plane tomorrow,
Never to live in Mass again.

Graduation was a blur but
I have pictures to remind me...

Will post more when the hurricane of displacement dispels.

Total aside: I can't believe Obama has clenched the Dem nomination!!!! Will Hillary be VP?!

Hellathon Day 7 & 8

Long dry lectures by one of the most brilliant minds in Constituional Law jurisprudence: Erwin Chemerinsky. It was an honor and a chore.

What made it worst though were his constant corny puns. To wit:

Concerning a case about the government taxing wheat:
"I guess the government really wants its dough."
[class groans]
"What? I thought you'd all get a rise out of that."
[class groans more]
"But I'm on a roll!"
[class wretches]

Tomorrow: graduation! Thank goodness I finally get a break from class (but not from the 4-6 hour homework schedule). Sleeping in today felt amazing!

Hellathon Day 6

Tired. In every way.

Must keep reminding myself that this is a pass/fail exam.

The amount of homework that does not get done is rising like a tide. Usually I can do 50% of the assignments. But now with packing and graduation activities coming to a swell, I can do about 20%. Sigh.