Another Day, Another Test

Yeah... I'm on a bar exam kick. It's my way of commiserating with the people who are taking the bar right now. And you're actually getting a couple personal posts out of me, so deal with it.

Today is the MBE, which is the full day of multiple choice torture. I suck at multiple choice tests. I went into the essay days of the bar hoping to knock one out of the park. I went into the multiple choice portion praying that I didn't completely bomb it. The truth about the MBE is that everyone thinks they failed it. If you walk out of the room feeling good about the test, you're a freak. And you probably failed.

But there's nothing fun about multiple choice.

Instead, I'll tell you the debacle which was the Maine bar. The first problem was that I took the test while working and taking the test just wasn't working for me. I was originally supposed to take it in February. But a month before the bar, things got insane in the courthouse.

Our big boat explosion case was going to trial and the pre-trial motions literally arrived in boxes. THREE BOXES to be exact. Not just little boxes either. Those huge ass plastic totes that you'd send your kid off to college in. As if that wasn't bad enough, our big construction case reached the summary judgment stage and those motions piled up four feet high on my floor. AND our class action got returned from the Appellate Division (again...for the third time) so we finally had to 1) locate, 2) read and 3) decide motions which occupied another couple boxes.

Fortunately, Maine lets you defer your testing once without having to reapply and pay your fees all over again. So hubby (before he was hubby) took the bar in February and I took it in July. The night before the test, I told his mom that we had to drive the route to the testing center together so I wouldn't get lost either heading there or back. She showed me how to get there and then pointed out the way home without actually driving the route with me. (You're all smart readers...You see where this is going...)

Maine is a little different from other states. (Shocking, right?) Instead of having 4 essays in the morning and 4 in the afternoon, you get 2 at a time with 90 minutes to complete them. The first 2 are the state specific stuff. The first question is all short answer, but your answer isn't complete unless you cite to the appropriate rule. (They give you a rule book to aid with the torture).

So I'm cruising along the 35 short answers. I knew all the answers but I couldn't find the right rule. I had 3 questions left when the announcer said, "You now have 10 minutes to complete this section of the exam."

Oh FUUUUUUUUUUUUUCK!

I hadn't even looked at the second question. I threw down random rule numbers next to my answers, knowing they were wrong and scanned the second essay. It probably required a good 30 minutes of writing to fully analyze. I had five. Max.

I quickly abandoned the idea of writing out the essay in long form, following the rule of last resort - write the first and last paragraphs and outline the middle. My hand was cramped and aching when they called time.

Making matters worse, the next two questions tested all my worst subjects... negotiable instruments and tax. (I won't bore you with the questions. But one tested something that was fully addressed in 1 line of the prep outline. And tax? I hadn't studied it. They took it off the exam in February and I hadn't realized they brought it back for the July test.)

I literally finished the two essay questions in 20 minutes. Then I sat there miserably for the next 70 minutes KNOWING with every fiber of my being that I had failed. With five minutes to go, the magical words "holder in due course" popped into my head. I had no damn idea if they even applied to the question, but I furiously scribbled a few lines into the essay about holders, hoping that would save my ass somehow.

The rest of the exam passed without incident. I almost left at lunch and called it quits, but where would I go? Hubby's mom was at work and I had no way of getting into the house. So I toughed it out and happily raced to my car when I was done.

I got SO lost on my way back to her house. I missed my turn off. I had no idea that Portland was that big, but I think I covered every inch of it that night. As exhaustion started overtaking me, I contemplated pulling over and sleeping on the side of the road. Except I had no idea where I was - so how the hell would I get back to the testing center in the morning. I started running traffic lights, hoping a cop would pull me over so I could ask for directions...

No luck.

But eventually, I did find my way back thanks to the long distance directions given to me by hubby. I was happy to return to Jersey, where I forgot about the exam and how miserably I did on it until the day the envelope arrived in the mail.

Sometimes small envelopes are good - it's just the letter telling you the date of your swearing in. Sometimes small envelopes are bad - no more than the notification that you suck and failed. I didn't want to open mine.

It was big. Big had to mean I failed and these were the materials I needed to fill out to reapply to take the test. With shaking hands, I opened the envelope. My eyes struggled to focus on the words...For a second, I was so delirious, I thought it said "Congratulations." Immediately, I handed the letter to hubby and forced him to tell me what it said.

I still think they made a mistake... No one demand a recount, okay?

Day One

Seven years ago today I set foot into the Marriott, armed with nothing more than a gallon sized plastic baggie and whatever knowledge I could cram into my head over the past two months. I got there early. Almost an hour ahead of time, just to assure myself I wouldn't be late. The second I entered the building, I was horrified at what I saw. Hundreds of people were sprawled everywhere. And each of them were panic-stricken, doing the last second cram. I immediately turned on my heel and ran back to the car.

I tried to put the sight out of my head as I blasted my favorite tunes. The panic had been so palpable it seized me in its iron grasp. It took every one of the fifty minutes in my car for my heart rate and breathing to go back to normal.

That sense of calm confidence lasted as long as it took to reach my assigned seat. The girl next to me was still cramming, hyperventilating and driving us both to hysteria. "Hey! What are you getting so worked up for," I asked quietly.

"This is the BAR exam. It's like the most important test of our LIVES." (Yeah...no shit)

I pointed out all the empty seats, people who were too scared to even show up. There'd be even more empty seats after lunch, when people gave up and gave in to the pressure. Even more the next day. You know this shit. You've been studying all summer for it. I was speaking to myself as much, if not more, than I was talking to her. But it worked.

When the announcer said "you may now begin the new york 2003 bar exam" I couldn't open my test book. I was too distracted by the stampede of people bombing up to the front of the room, hands over their mouths, as they hoped to reach the bathroom before losing their breakfast in the testing room.

The girl next to me giggled. I winked. And so it began.

New york begins their test with 50 multiple choice questions on all the state specific stuff. I literally didn't know the answer to any question. I guessed on each of the questions. I had to leave the room after that to quell the panic threatening to overtake common sense. I went to the bathroom and splashed some cold water on my face. While I was in there, three more people dashed to the stalls and began retching violently.

As I watched the last girl puke on her shoes, I smiled. I was so much better off than these guys. I returned to the room and tackled the essays. I was the only person done ahead of time.

I tossed my nine blue books at the proctor and dragged my ass to the door. As my hand reached the handle, the announcer informed us that there were 10 minutes left and no one could leave the room for any reason until the exam was done. I quickly checked over my shoulder to ensure I was okay to leave. I got the nod and ran to my car. A number of taxi drivers told me I was the first to leave and that was a good sign. One guy told me the first one out always passed.

I was so delirious with stress, exhaustion and exhilaration, I hugged the guy. Then I jumped in my car and began the long trek back to central Jersey where day 2 of the test would take place.
My phone rang off the hook with friends who were also taking the exam. I refused to answer. I didn't want to know what they thought. I didn't want to run down the likelihood that question 3 was really a torts question, not contracts like I wrote on.

When I reached my hotel I was so tired, I couldn't even give them my name. The guy looked at me and merely said, "Bar exam?" I nodded, handing him my license and credit card.

"Bed?"

He somehow suppressed his laughter. At that and the fact that I asked for five wake up calls in the morning.

I stumbled into bed and never slept so well in my life.

The Bed

It loomed large
The focal point of the room
Plush and inviting

Silk sheets
Plump pillows
Naked flesh

She sighed
Not content, frustrated
Wondering, yet again, how she got here

Laying in this oasis of luxury
She never felt more lonely...
...while she was not alone.

_______________

This was a Magpie Tale. I don't typically do poetry and I don't do rhyming... So be gentle. ;)

The Bar (Not the fun kind)

This time of year, my thoughts always turn to the bar. To all of the law school graduates who are freaking out right now doing the last minute cram with one week to go. The good news is that no matter how bad you think it is right now, it'll all be over soon...and the further away from it you get, the harder it is to remember. In a few years, this whole summer will be a blur.

You graduate from law school. It's an amazing moment having them put the doctorite hood over your head and walking the stage. For me, it was extra special. My dad was the first graduate of the law school... I was the first graduate of my class. And my sister was starting law school in the fall, where she would be the first graduate of her class. The school's alum magazine had done this whole article on us as three generations of Frank's grads.

So, we're all riding high from graduation. We go to this party that my 3 closest friends and I were throwing for our families. But as soon as that was done, we had to get to work. We had an apartment to pack and, the day after graduation, hubby (before he was actually hubby) and I were moving down to Jersey. Unfortunately, on the ride down, hubby got the bad news that his uncle died. In Canada. And the funeral was going to be the next day.

At the crack of dawn, I drive them to the airport where we realize hubby has his birth certificate, but his dad didn't. They ended up flying to Buffalo, renting a car and driving across the border. That left me to deal with unpacking.

Four short days later, bar review started. (They don't give you much time to recover) We were both taking the NY and NJ bars. Fortunately, NJ only tested the six multi-state subjects with no state specific distinctions. (Okay...for all the non-lawyers in the crowd, the multi-state is the multiple choice portion of the bar. One full day - 6 hours - of questions on torts, contracts, property, constitutional law, criminal law and procedure and evidence.) New York was another story all together. They tested like 23 topics, most of which I never studied in law school and you had to know all the NY specific law. (Bastards)

Our bar review was conducted in the espelande motel...which was so sketchy and in such disrepair that it no longer exists...but we trudged into the first day, trying to calm the panic rising to epic levels inside each of us, as we lugged every review book on the topic of contracts into the conference room.

Here's the truth. I worked my ass off that summer. I freaked out every day. But beyond going to every lecture and dutifully taking notes, I couldn't bring myself to study when I got home. I didn't read the outlines. I didn't supplement my lecture notes. I didn't make flash cards.

Suddenly, it was the beginning of July and I hadn't opened a freaking book. That was when panic truly set in for me. I went nuts with my studying. I started reading every outline. I made thousands of flashcards. I studied until my eyes went bleary and I couldn't take it anymore.

Part of the frustration with the bar is that you realize very quickly how much you didn't learn in law school... You seriously learn everything you need to know for the most important test of your life in 2 months and the $2,000-5,000 in prep materials. Law school may teach you to think, write and reason like a lawyer. But all you need for the bar is a good prep class.

I took two bar review classes. My second class started up 2 weeks before the bar. It was specific to the multi-state and featured a simulated test. I TANKED it. I mean, seriously embarrassingly low. I'm bad at multiple choice questions to begin with, but this was...well, no chance my essay scores would help me to pass if I did that badly on the real thing. But then an amazing thing happened.

With a week to go, everything started to click. And I accepted I was never going to learn everything... I played the odds. Wills and trusts never made sense to me. So I just learned what made them valid and what made them invalid, hoping that would be what they asked...

The night before the exam, I was nervous. About whether I could find the test center without getting lost. About whether I could drag my ass out of bed on time.

But the test itself? That I was finally ready for...

Victoria's Bell

The bell clanged loudly in the distance. "Grandma, why does the bell ring five times every day at this time?" She smiled down at little Timmy. Tucking him in for bed, she muttered, "I don't even want to think about what they're not teaching you in school." Then she perched on the end of the bed and began to tell the story of Victoria's bell.

Years ago, Victoria was engaged to marry a duke. His title was not what drew her to him, for when they first met, he was just Jeffrey. A sweet man, one who stood in stark contrast to lovers past. Jeffrey was kind where there had been hostility; gentle where there had been abuse. He would always be there, always support her. Jeffrey was a good man but...harmless and vanilla. Though Victoria loved him, there was always something missing. She didn't even realize it until the night she met Edward.

It was the night of the Summer Ball. Jeffrey twirled her around the dance floor, when she first saw him. Incredibly handsome, despite his brooding. He raised his hand to his lips and took a long drag off a cigarette. Victoria continued the dance, but was captivated by the man across the room.

When the dance ended, she spotted him leaving the room. Victoria quickly slipped away, through the same doors and out onto that balcony. Edward stood in the shadows, smoking yet another cigarette. Victoria watched for a moment before going to him.

The details of that conversation, of that first interlude have been lost in the passage of time. But those few stolen moments on the balcony set in motion a chain of events which would alter all their lives.

Victoria began seeing Edward in secret. As nightfall approached each evening, her pulse quickened in anticipation. She slipped away in the darkness, eager to find herself again in his arms. He was nothing like Jeffrey. While that was, of course, part of the appeal, there was so much more. Victoria felt smothered in her life and Edward provided a breath of fresh air. With him, she never had to pretend. With him, she was herself. Her best self. And still wanted to be so much more for him.

The daylight hours were consumed with memories of their moments together. She had memorized the feel of his lips pressed against hers, the caress of his fingers, the warmth of his embrace. It wasn't just that he made her feel so alive and with him she experienced greater passion than she'd ever known. He saw her better than anyone, knew her better than she knew herself. He was her match - a fact which both delighted and terrified Victoria.

She never told Edward how she felt, afraid that it would ruin what they had together. Victoria lay next to him, her head on his shoulder, marveling at how well they fit together. He stroked her hair lovingly and pressed his lips against her temple. Once again, the words were on the tip of her tongue and, despite the intimacy of the moment, she still questioned whether his feelings matched her own.

She kissed his neck tenderly and blissfully drifted to sleep in his arms. When Victoria opened her eyes, sun streamed through the windows and she was alone. To her left, there was a tall vase on her nightstand full of roses. Jeffrey, she thought. To her right, was a small cream envelope where Edward's head should have laid on the pillow next to her. Victoria slipped the note from its envelope. Edward.

Victoria's heart pounded as she read his words. He loved her and wanted Victoria to run away with him. If she accepted, she should meet him at the old bell tower at 8:00. Victoria was hardly able to believe his words, but when she found the silver band nestled at the bottom of the envelope, she couldn't believe her eyes.

The day seemed endless, each hour feeling days long. Finally, Victoria stood in the bell tower at the appointed time. She had rung the bell exactly five times when Jeffrey stormed through the doors. "He's not coming," Jeffrey spat. Victoria sank to the floor, her slim frame wracked with sobs. Her fingers gripped the silver band inside her pocket. In that moment, her whole life - the life that could have been with Edward - flashed before her eyes. Their marriage. Kids. The passion. The intense friendship. And most of all, a love so deep that it would have transcended time, distance, any obstacle.

Victoria never learned what kept Edward from her that night. Part of her always hoped that the bond they shared would lead them back together again one day. Victoria never stopped loving Edward and not a day went by that she didn't wonder what if...

Their story was a tragic romance for the ages. Two victims of poor timing or fate's cruelty. Whatever you called it, Victoria's Bell still clangs every night at 8:00 exactly five times to remind us not to let one day go by without telling the ones we love how we feel.

When the tale was done, Timmy looked up at his grandma and whispered, "I love you." She kissed him on the top of his head, stroking his hair lovingly. Then she left the room so Timmy would not see the tears slide down her cheeks.

She reached into the back of her desk drawer and removed a tiny package. With trembling hands, she carefully unwrapped the white tissue and ran her fingers along the silver band. Sliding it onto her ring finger, where it belonged, she whispered the words she could never say when she had the chance.

I love you.

just when i was wondering what the heck to write about...

Given the relative infrequency with which I write these days, you may not have known that I've been away. In California. For the past five days.

My mom decided that I needed a real vacation (read: without the little guy) and thought it'd be a nice treat for hubby and I to go away for our anniversary. We just got back last night and jet lag is screwing with me big time. I'm not sure whether to think it's 6 or 9, but it feels like at least 12...

I spent my day dealing with morons who seemed even more idiotic after 5 days of baking my brain with sun and alcohol. I have a stack of work to do, discovery to propound, briefs to write and other stuff that you couldn't pay me enough to look at right now. So instead, I've been trying to catch up on my blog reading and, if Blogger has been feeling cooperative, commenting.

Jen tagged me to answer some truly thought provoking questions. I'm sure she (and the rest of you) are just DYING for the answers. So I won't hold you in suspense any longer. Without further ado...


1. If you could be any fried food, what would you choose?

Well... everything is better dipped in batter and deep fried, right? But I guess I'd have to choose chicken. Since everything else tastes like chicken. Might as well be the original.

2. How come my son can't wipe his own butt at age almost seven?

I sure as hell can't answer this one! My son is two and a half. He steadfastly insists that he "don't need the potty" and rumor has it he's been coerced into using the potty for all of 3 drops at daycare.

But if I have to guess... He's either lazy or knows you'll do it for him?

3. What song makes you suicidal? (for me it's anything by KidzBop)

Anything sung by that awful purple dinosaur... I'd rather listen to the Wiggles all day than Barney.

4. What would you be when you grow up if you were an actual grown up when it was time to decide?

Other than a brief interlude when I wanted to be a ballerina (I'm too short and too busty for that career choice), I've always wanted to be a lawyer. Kind of cool that I have the job I always wanted. Of course, I thought I wanted to do criminal defense and am very happy to avoid that end of the office now. I'm firmly entrenched in the world of corporate litigation.

But if I ever decide not to be a lawyer anymore, it'd be to write. (Yup, I still think about that in all my non-existent free time.)

5. You have a whistle. What do you do?

Put my lips together and blow, of course.


So now I'm supposed to tag a bunch of you guys and ask some questions for you to answer on your own blog.

For this, I'm tagging

Ms. Salti
Mistress Auri
Sarcastically Bitter
Red Shoes
Mr. Condescending

And their questions will be:

1. If you could be any animal, which would you be and why?

2. If you could go anywhere in the world (on someone else's dime, of course), where would you go?

3. You've stumbled over a time machine. Would you go back in time or visit the future?

4. What's your favorite book? (Yup, I'm assuming you read actual books, Mr. C)

5. Everyone has a stupid human trick... (I can touch my tongue to my nose) What's yours?

By the Numbers...

Ten years ago, hubby and I were thrown together. Not because we were in all the same classes at a new school together. Our roommates, despite being grown adults and although they wanted to be together, were seemingly incapable of going anywhere without us. Through a series of forced interactions at all hours of the day and night, we quickly became good friends. Of course, the rest of the world could see that we were crazy about each other, long before we were able to admit it to each other. Or to ourselves…

Nine years ago, we decided to give it a shot. The decision could have been fueled by the after-effects of far too many scorpion bowls. Maybe the liquor quieted the fears that cautioned us about risking the friendship…or maybe our hearts finally spoke louder than our heads.

Eight years ago we moved in together. I still don't think he really meant it. My apartment sucked and I think he got sick of hearing me complain about it. Power blew every single time I used the microwave. The crazy bastard downstairs who freaked out on me for parking in "his spot" when he had no car. After one particularly long tirade, he said, "What do you want? Do you just want to move in here?" I blurted out yes before he could change his mind...

Seven years ago, our frantic search to find jobs after law school led to us covering the east coast in resumes. Somehow, we managed to land jobs not just in the same state, but in the same courthouse.

Six years ago, before we started our new jobs after the clerkship, he proposed. It was right after I convinced myself that he would NEVER pop the question. It was also one of the few times in my life where I was truly speechless.

And on July 2 five years ago, we were finally married.

Happy anniversary, my love.