So the bar exam — it was a thing that happened. I’m not sure what the test is supposed to indicate about my ability to be a competent lawyer (very little, I imagine), but I suppose it makes sense as a rite of passage. The three-day marathon, the sad looks of stress, anxiety, confidence, or carefully manufactured sanguineness. The inability to interact with the people I spent the last three years with, knowing that there’s nothing we could say that is encouraging, and plenty to say that might induce further stress. The absurdly stringent security guidelines (goodbye, chapstick! farewell, pencils-on-laptop-day!). The eerie uniformity of thousands of people in a giant warehouse room, engaged in identical activity, two to a table, with no sound save the dim roar of the air-conditioning. The uneasy alliance with my table-mate, a perfect stranger-turned-compatriot and possible competitor. The pathetic way we ate lunch (soggy pickles and squished sandwiches) seated on the warehouse, stairs, and asphalt parking lot, shivering in ragged clothing.
These are memories I can cherish, relish, and think I did this with the tired confidence of a warrior victorious from her first battle (I hope!)
I can only hope I don’t have to run this gauntlet again. What next, you ask? Stay tuned, que sera sera. In the meantime, a bit of inspiration that kept me going (and still is!), both during the bar, and the uncertainty that consumes me now: