Write, I tell myself. Write something. Write anything. No one reads this blog anyhow.
The California Bar ended today. It's been two years since I took the bar, and I'm starting to feel nostalgic? My friend's boyfriend is taking it this year, so it seems more real to me than it did last year. Last year was too soon for me to feel any nostalgia about the bar. It was just this terrible thing that happened to me once. The memories have dulled, and now it doesn't seem that bad? (I am seriously questioning my own memories. Did I imagine how terrible it was?)
By far the worst part about the bar was the possibility of failing. During bar prep classes, urban legends began to surface. Everyone knows someone who went to Harvard/Yale/Stanford who failed. The word failed is delivered in the most ominous way possible by the storyteller while the rapt listener chugged some more Red Bull, grabbed a highlighter, and furiously attacked the Conviser guide. What about that guy who suffered a minor concussion and still passed? The legends span both sides of the extremes.
What made studying so difficult was the fact that no one knew how much was enough. You're never done studying. It's impossible to master all 16 or so topics, so you try to learn maybe 70% of each topic, or maybe master 11 and hope that the 5 that you don't know don't come up. I think I tried to master all the topics in three months. That was prob not the best strategy for my health, but it made me feel better going into the exam.
I miss the comraderie of having a ton of friends going through the same hell. I miss making up stupid acronyms and teaching them to each other. I miss spending way too much time in coffee shops, not really getting much work done, then coming home and actually doing work. That summer just flew by, just like this one. The end of summer always feels a little sad to me, because it seems like we steamroll right into the new year, and all these changes start to unfurl.
I guess all this nostalgia isn't really for the bar exam itself, but for that part of my life that ended with the bar exam.
The California Bar ended today. It's been two years since I took the bar, and I'm starting to feel nostalgic? My friend's boyfriend is taking it this year, so it seems more real to me than it did last year. Last year was too soon for me to feel any nostalgia about the bar. It was just this terrible thing that happened to me once. The memories have dulled, and now it doesn't seem that bad? (I am seriously questioning my own memories. Did I imagine how terrible it was?)
By far the worst part about the bar was the possibility of failing. During bar prep classes, urban legends began to surface. Everyone knows someone who went to Harvard/Yale/Stanford who failed. The word failed is delivered in the most ominous way possible by the storyteller while the rapt listener chugged some more Red Bull, grabbed a highlighter, and furiously attacked the Conviser guide. What about that guy who suffered a minor concussion and still passed? The legends span both sides of the extremes.
What made studying so difficult was the fact that no one knew how much was enough. You're never done studying. It's impossible to master all 16 or so topics, so you try to learn maybe 70% of each topic, or maybe master 11 and hope that the 5 that you don't know don't come up. I think I tried to master all the topics in three months. That was prob not the best strategy for my health, but it made me feel better going into the exam.
I miss the comraderie of having a ton of friends going through the same hell. I miss making up stupid acronyms and teaching them to each other. I miss spending way too much time in coffee shops, not really getting much work done, then coming home and actually doing work. That summer just flew by, just like this one. The end of summer always feels a little sad to me, because it seems like we steamroll right into the new year, and all these changes start to unfurl.
I guess all this nostalgia isn't really for the bar exam itself, but for that part of my life that ended with the bar exam.
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