Bars...and bars...

So I'm taking this moment to come out of blogging obscurity. I feel the need to pay tribute to those recent law school grads who are about to face the last hazing ritual before they're let into the club... The bar exam started today for most of them.

It doesn't seem like all that long ago that I was driving myself up to Albany, where they stuck all the out of state people to take NY bar. My trunk was full of study materials, but they never made it out of the car. My brain was on vacation and I decided it deserved the night off. However, I was struck by full blown panic when I realized around 9:30 that I didn't have any sharpened pencils.

As I plugged in the electric pencil sharpener and moved it as far away from the wall as the cord would reach, I had visions of waking up my strung out neighbors and having them come to impale me with their own #2 pencils. As I was sharpening my 5th pencil (and really, who needs THAT many pencils?), the sounds of a fist pounding against my door made me break into a sweat. I stopped what I was doing, hoping the noise would go away. But it came again, louder than before.

I crept over to the door and peered outside to see who was undoubtedly the largest, beefiest man I'd ever seen scowling back at me.

Oh, fuck, I thought as I opened the door. I am going to die before I get the chance to take this stupid test I spent all summer studying for!

"WAS THAT A PENCIL SHARPENER I HEARD IN YOUR ROOM?" He demanded.

I began to profusely apologize, not wanting to piss off another strung out, sleep deprived, tanked up on caffeine would be bar exam taker... Then he held up a fist full of pencils. "PLEASE? I'll get down on my knees and beg if I have to. PLEASE let me sharpen my pencils in your room."

The three days of testing that followed that moment passed in a blur. I know I left the test center in New York first, being assured by all the cab drivers outside that this was a good sign and that the first to leave always passed. I drove from Albany to Central Jersey and was so tired when I got to the hotel that I couldn't even give the clerk my name in order to check in. I have a vague recollection of being happy to be on the concierge floor because I was too tired to do anything more than stumble down the hall, grab some free food and pass out. I know I set four alarms to make sure I woke up the next morning so I didn't sleep through the exam and refused to speak to anyone, other than to text my parents and hubby that I had safely made it from NY to NJ. And I know at the end of the bar, I got stuck in the worst shore traffic coming south and was treated to a lovely voice mail from my bank telling me that I was going to bounce my rent check if I didn't transfer some funds into my checking account by the close of business.

But the point is, I got through it.

It was two and a half months of torture getting ready. It was three hellish days of testing. And with each year that goes by, the memory of it fades a little bit more.

So, to those of you taking the bar, good luck - not that you need it. You've spent your entire lives taking tests. You're a pro at it by now. And this is the one test you don't have to ace. C = ESQ (and look forward to your trip to the bar after you're done with the bar)

To those of you who already took it and passed, aren't you glad we're not doing this again?

And to those of you who never had to deal with this at all, you're far smarter than I am!

missing

I hate people on Facebook who effortlessly post really great stuff as their statuses. I don't care if you just ate the best ham and cheese sandwich of your life at the corner deli or that you just checked in at the Freehold Raceway Mall (unless I happen to be there too and actually want to see you). No, I mean the people who can crack you up with their one liners and make you smile with their posts.

Since I can't compete with people like that (yeah, Brad, I am, in part, referring to you), I don't try. Now that I've de-friended all the partners from my old office, I can start using FB again for its intended purpose...amazing the world with how mind-numbing your status updates can be.

Except when I look for inspiration, instead of something clever, I hear crickets. Kind of like when I'm looking for something to post over here. So, while waiting for my long missing muse to reappear, I've been borrowing quotes from other people to post as my status. If my friends don't like them, I really don't care. They made me smile.

So I stumbled across this one tonight...

"Be yourself. Above all, let who you are, what you are, what you believe, shine through every sentence you write, every piece you finish." (The lawyer in me feels compelled to write that John Jakes said that one)

And it really struck me. Earlier this week, I bumped into one of my oldest friends while we were dropping our kids off at daycare. We talked for a few minutes before she gave me a hug and told me how good it was to see me. She didn't just mean that it had been a couple months since we crossed paths, which it was. She told me that I finally seemed almost like myself again.

If I take the time to think about it, she's right.

I can pretend like I don't care anymore about the way my old office fucked me over. If I'm being honest, the truth is, it still stings.

Not every day.

But enough.

Enough that I can remember exactly how it felt the minute I got called into my boss' office and he gave me "the talk." How I felt afterwards, knowing that I could never stay at a place I had never planned to leave. How what those assholes did, and how they did it, stripped me of not only the love I had for my job and my clients, but my confidence. And if I dwell on it too much, I'll probably start crying again, which would really piss me off.

The whole thing has left me stripped pretty raw (as I'm sure you can tell because I don't write like this often). I still don't feel entirely like myself yet. But I'll get there...hopefully soon.

birthday blues

I've never been a big fan of birthdays (meaning mine, other people's are fine). I don't know what it is exactly. Perhaps the irrational fear of getting old - imagining that one day I'll end up like the scary-looking old people in the nursing home where I once volunteered. (But that's a story for another day)

Whatever it is, I don't like them.

So by the time I rolled out of bed this morning, I had a bunch of messages from people wishing me a happy birthday by text, email and facebook message. By the time I got to the office, I had threatened to punch hubby due solely to the sheer number of times he had said the words "it's your birthday" in the span of 40 minutes. (Yes, I know it's my birthday. Can we PLEASE stop talking about it????)

As I sat down at my desk, I pulled out my Blackberry and saw the first email of the day that really made me smile... It was from someone who knows me well enough to simply say "Happy birthday, try to smile today." That email was followed a couple hours later with another stating little more than "smile more."

For once I actually listened. And it turned out to be a pretty good birthday, in spite of my being another year older.

On a totally different note, Brad over at Diaries of the Professor is (finally) back to blogging. If you don't know him, you should check him out. He's my favorite blogger (no offense - i love you guys too) and one of the best writers I know. And I'm not just saying that because he has all the dirt on me going back to my sorority girl days. ;)

I'm pretty sure by now I've stayed awake long enough that the snoring has subsided upstairs and hopefully the little guy is in his own bed, instead of talking in his sleep in mine. ("NO! I wanna bat first!") I love it. My son talks baseball in his sleep. I'm so proud. And tired.