When you join one of the historically black fraternal organizations, the process is called "Crossing the Burning Sands." It's supposed to mean that your willingness to undertake this journey represents your commitment to the organization. Retracing those steps doesn't make any easier. The Bar might not last long, but its the burning sand. Might even be the burning coals.
This blog has been desolate lately.
Studying for the bar for a second attempt has the feel of walking through soft, foul smelling mud. It is a slog, which seems to require an effort for everything that needs to be done. I realized immediately that I couldn't approach this as a "brush up" retake, and that I had to re-immerse myself. Only it's like re-reading a book you read last week. Deja vu to the extreme. You can't shake that feeling that you know this stuff, but you also can't skip anything, so you find yourself reading and re-reading, to the point where you're reading things out loud to prove to yourself that you read them.
Flash cards, audio CDs, prep material, android apps. And repeat.
For the occasional break, which I swear I'm trying to cut down on, I glance at this blog for Zerlina Maxwell, who is prepping for the NY Bar and whose tumblr format allows for way more funny pictures.
I thought the door bell rang at 6 am on Sunday.
I heard my imaginary dog bark.
I need a haircut.
I went outside the other day and there were cobwebs on the steps to my car.
Theoretically I'm ahead of the game. I've at least seen the thing before. Or is that a bad thing?