miss adventures

Home Sweet Home

What a traumatic three days! The thing is, though, I am getting better and better every time... what a daunting thought, that I may have to reserve skills improved upon in the last few days once again in the future. Anyway, I gave it my all, and walked away each day with a growing sense of gratification with little regard of what the result might be. After all, I'll live.

But the four days away did not exactly go smoothly. Last night, I found myself checking into a motel. Yes, motel, with an M. It was one of those places where you enter your room from the outside. Right in the middle of the test week, I trudged me and my many law tomes out of my sister's house and into the Vagabond Inn, a mere mile away. With one critical day of testing left to go. Timing is everything -- my sister ain't no amateur.

The TV reception was horrible and I was forced to watch "The King of Queens" while settling down with the remaining twelve out of fourteen subjects that could be tested the next day. But given the circumstances, "The real test tomorrow," I thought to myself, "is getting out of this motel tomorrow without getting stabbed." I wondered if I had spotted his motel before in an episode of "Forensic Files".

But there was fresh Farmer Bros. coffee in the morning. And lunches with Amy made the time pass by quickly, lightly, as the rain lifted and coaxed the sun back. And one step after another, I found myself back in the fresh and clean confines of a well-coordinated bedroom.

Today, I kept thinking, is this what they mean when they say, it was my last, best chance? It's so unhealthy to think of anything in those terms. When you run a long marathon, at the end of it you are glad that you are that much more fit. That you saw a sunset, or a great coffee shop along the length of your jog. But something like the Bar exam... three years, three months and three days of beatings, and at the end of it all, you can only prepare for the worst and hope for the best. You're not too glad about what you learned, you're not too enriched by the stress... But, yes. There is a sense of accomplishment. And a stiff drink at the end.

I hope that good things happened in twos. My second time, in February, in room 222 at the Inn, applicant number 2110. And if not? I say, fuck it!

posted by Lucy Sloan @ 11:18 PM