A gentle reminder to everyone - PLEASE SHUT THE FUCK UP ABOUT THE BAR EXAM.
I stated previously that results will not be out until November 21. Yes, its a really long fucking time to wait. Why would you think I am not aware of that?
Coffee Girl at Starbucks - I swear to bhudda if she fucking asks me about the bar exam one more time I'm going to punch her in the tit. And for the last time its not a fucking test !!!!! Its name is the California Bar EXAM. Unless you have taken it, you shouldn't try to talk about it. You might end up being wrong.
Seriously though, I will let everyone know when I am ready after results come out and that doesn't mean that day.
For now, understand that my response will be a simple and direct "Fuck You" to anyone who continues to ask about it.
Its difficult to wait but its comforting to know that nothing will change the results - what's done is done. When I closed that last bluebook (actually it was yellow or canary or fucking pink or some gayass color) the results of my exam were set in ink.
While the bar graders now read and tally the points that decide who will get a license this time around I can only sit here and try to recall the whole year. If I could only run into a chum with a bottle of rum we could wind up drinking all night.
And although I seem to be changing my longitude more than I am changing my latitude, my attitudes are certainly more tropical these days.
Wednesday, August 27, 2008
Wednesday, August 6, 2008
How to Eat an Elephant - Part 2: It Tastes Like Shit!
A great many years ago I heard a phrase that has pissed me off pretty much ever since. It goes like this:
The greater the dream – the greater the struggle – the greater the prize.
If it's true then that fucking sucks. I'm finding it to be true.
The farthest back memory I have of wanting to quit something – just give up because I really did not want to struggle anymore, was in Jump School. For those who don't know, Jump School is a 3 week school where you learn how to jump out of military aircraft, conducted under the auspices of the U.S. Army Airborne School. Those that pass either go on to some POG job and never see a T-10 again or they go on to become a Paratrooper. A Paratrooper is a soldier that jumps out of a noisy hot ass puke smelling C-130 into hostile territory (and the DZ's at Bragg are hostile even though its still within the boundaries of the US) with several hundred pounds of shit that isn't going to work strapped to their body. You hit the ground damn hard and roll it off with a dynamic PLF and say to yourself I'm the SHIT because I just did that shit.
Why would anyone want to quit Jump School ? I honestly don't even remember what it was about it that made me want to ring the bell, but I know there was something. Anyway, I kept telling myself "it just doesn't matter … it just doesn't matter" and singing cadence in my head, "Eighty Second … patch on my shoulder" and for kicks "down in the jungle where the coconuts grow." Somehow I found a place inside that said FUCK you fucking fuck I aint gonna quit this shit so bring it on BITCH!!
Can you feel me ?
When my high school friend Joe Adams walked up to me on graduation day (I had no idea he would be there) and slammed those silver jump wings into my chest I cried. Sure, it fucking hurt and my BDU's were ruined from the blood. That's not why I cried. It was my very first taste of real victory after a struggle where I did not want to keep going but I did it anyway.
That taste was bittersweet but every time I had my knees in the breeze after that I knew that I had done something that I can be proud of and that NO ONE could ever take away from me. I'm a fucking Paratrooper and that means I can do shit you would piss yourself if you had to do it. (No offense intended – just read my fucking story and STFU).
Seriously, please don't be offended. It's a cultural thing, and its part of the prize of completing Jump School – you get to do something not many people get to do. And skydiving does NOT a paratrooper make, but that's another blog.
The next thing in my life that I remember really wanting to quit (that I am willing to talk about anyway) was sailing that little 24 foot sloop from San Francisco to Mazatlan.
BT and I had been talking some serious shit about leaving as the storm season approached the Bay Area. Finally we got drunk enough - or sober enough, take your pick – to cut the docklines and head out the Gate.
Who the fuck decided that was Fleet Week anyway? We get into some nice reach right through the middle of the Golden Gate Bridge and the next thing I know the entire Pacific Fleet of the U.S. Navy (read – BIG fucking boats) was everywhere.
We made it out and every day we left shore it got easier and easier. I pretended that Point Conception was not getting any closer with each leg of the trip.
Well we got to Point Conception mid-afternoon on whatever day of whatever month that was and holyfuckingshit….. I think there were no less than 7 law of physics that were broken by the sea that day. It was big steep slam my poor boat into the dirt waves and I was a little freaked out. OK – I was scared a lot. I thought about turning around because I heard there were days people motored past the Point on a sea of glass and how wonderful that would be about right now.
Well we decided to keep going anyway. I called my position to the Coast Guard and somehow we made it to Cojo Anchorage just around the point. We set anchor in 5 foot swells and paid homage to Willie and Bob and Jimmy (all three of them) and played some buffet. A song came on that was branded into my soul. You likely won't know it, its called "Treat Her Like a Lady." And it was every thing that my heart was screaming to say at that moment. If you really want to know why finish reading my blog and Google the song.
The point is, after more than three months, BT and I had somehow navigated this little 24 foot flush deck sloop from San Francisco to San Diego. We found a big ass cheeseburger and reflected on the HOLY FUCK we did it! There were storms and squalls and I was broke the entire time. I wouldn't change a thing.
What do you care right ? It's important to realize that the day I dropped anchor in San Diego I grew up. Well, I STARTED to grow up. I had some demon to slay yet, and more trouble to find, but I slammed on the breaks and slid for a few years into adulthood.
Fast forward to 2008. The year I took the California Bar Exam. (There may be some airing of dirty laundry in what follows)
After the Baby Bar school went along fairly smoothly. Bar Review was starting in a few months and my wife was going to take care of everything so I could focus on the bar exam.
Except somewhere along the way we had a serious difference of opinion about the expectations and contributions of her tweenage daughter. So bad it seems that I wasn't wanted in the home anymore. I excused myself and rented a room across town and bar review began. There was some pretending that the problem would be fixed but we both knew it wasn't going to be. I'll own my share of the fault, whatever portion that may be. The point is, she decided to move to another State.
Then after I moved out her car got stolen or repossessed or whatever happened. They did find it, or give it back or whatever.
Around this time I noticed it was getting hotter outside and my car air conditioner wasn't working to good. In fact it didn't work at all. I live on the surface of the sun – AKA Phoenix. FUCK!!!
Next, my step father dies. Although I wasn't all that close to him I still need to be there for my family.
Next, she actually moved to Texas.
Next, we have that conversation – the one where I say leave me alone so I can get through the fucking bar exam without anymore drama or trauma.
That conversation leads to "yep – we are done."
With me so far?
Next, my air conditioner still doesn't work and its fucking HOT. I'm spending 7 days a week in my office studying and working and studying and driving in this heat.
Next, I start to have panic attacks about the bar. I don't know enough law. I don't know how to write. I don't know this, or that, or why did I go to law school anyway. It would be so much easier and peaceful to just give up. Lots of people graduate from law school and never take the bar right ?
Next, my power steering is leaking by the gallon because there is a hole in the hose. Hot and hard to handle.
Next, she gets in a car accident and lets me know while I am in the final stages of bar review.
Did I mention that bar review has made me so broke that I can't afford to fix the air conditioner in my car ?
Then something changes. I'm still a mess inside, but I'm at peace. Someone takes care of all the little things and all I have to do is focus and study. (More about all the PEOPLE who are important to my bar success in a later installment of this blog – I'm focusing on the bad shit right now and don't want to mix it up with the good stuff - thats next).
In the end, there were so many times I wanted to quit. I even said "I quit." I was frustrated and just didn't want to do it anymore.
I kept sailing.
I kept running to Georgia just like this.
I stood in the door and jumped into the open sky knowing I had struggled enough and it was time to get it on.
That fucking elephant tasted like SHIT! But I ate that fucking thing. All of it.
It started with a dream that I could be a lawyer – I could help people and really make a measurable difference in another human being's life.
The struggle was well, you read about a small part of it. I lost a lot of things. I had no life. It sucked in ways you wouldn't believe.
The prize. I took that bar – it did not take me. Whatever the results are. I've done enough, and if I fail well then I fail but not to me. I went into that room for three days and fought that monster every minute of time I was given. I stabbed and sliced and I can say FUCK YOU I can do it you BITCH!!!
I quietly slammed my bag of pens into the trash can on my way out of the room and knew that I won that war no matter what the points are in the end. I won that war because I know I won't ever quit. I won't give up. I will stab that motherfucker until it gives in to ME.
As Dylan Thomas said so many years ago …. "Do NOT go gentle into that good night…"
RAGE
RAGE
Because if you don't quit you will win.
I am many things, but I don't tap out like a bitch when it gets painful. I am not broken.
So it's not about the results in November. Its about the fact that I know the struggle has been worth every heart wrenching moment along the way.
To be continued….
The greater the dream – the greater the struggle – the greater the prize.
If it's true then that fucking sucks. I'm finding it to be true.
The farthest back memory I have of wanting to quit something – just give up because I really did not want to struggle anymore, was in Jump School. For those who don't know, Jump School is a 3 week school where you learn how to jump out of military aircraft, conducted under the auspices of the U.S. Army Airborne School. Those that pass either go on to some POG job and never see a T-10 again or they go on to become a Paratrooper. A Paratrooper is a soldier that jumps out of a noisy hot ass puke smelling C-130 into hostile territory (and the DZ's at Bragg are hostile even though its still within the boundaries of the US) with several hundred pounds of shit that isn't going to work strapped to their body. You hit the ground damn hard and roll it off with a dynamic PLF and say to yourself I'm the SHIT because I just did that shit.
Why would anyone want to quit Jump School ? I honestly don't even remember what it was about it that made me want to ring the bell, but I know there was something. Anyway, I kept telling myself "it just doesn't matter … it just doesn't matter" and singing cadence in my head, "Eighty Second … patch on my shoulder" and for kicks "down in the jungle where the coconuts grow." Somehow I found a place inside that said FUCK you fucking fuck I aint gonna quit this shit so bring it on BITCH!!
Can you feel me ?
When my high school friend Joe Adams walked up to me on graduation day (I had no idea he would be there) and slammed those silver jump wings into my chest I cried. Sure, it fucking hurt and my BDU's were ruined from the blood. That's not why I cried. It was my very first taste of real victory after a struggle where I did not want to keep going but I did it anyway.
That taste was bittersweet but every time I had my knees in the breeze after that I knew that I had done something that I can be proud of and that NO ONE could ever take away from me. I'm a fucking Paratrooper and that means I can do shit you would piss yourself if you had to do it. (No offense intended – just read my fucking story and STFU).
Seriously, please don't be offended. It's a cultural thing, and its part of the prize of completing Jump School – you get to do something not many people get to do. And skydiving does NOT a paratrooper make, but that's another blog.
The next thing in my life that I remember really wanting to quit (that I am willing to talk about anyway) was sailing that little 24 foot sloop from San Francisco to Mazatlan.
BT and I had been talking some serious shit about leaving as the storm season approached the Bay Area. Finally we got drunk enough - or sober enough, take your pick – to cut the docklines and head out the Gate.
Who the fuck decided that was Fleet Week anyway? We get into some nice reach right through the middle of the Golden Gate Bridge and the next thing I know the entire Pacific Fleet of the U.S. Navy (read – BIG fucking boats) was everywhere.
We made it out and every day we left shore it got easier and easier. I pretended that Point Conception was not getting any closer with each leg of the trip.
Well we got to Point Conception mid-afternoon on whatever day of whatever month that was and holyfuckingshit….. I think there were no less than 7 law of physics that were broken by the sea that day. It was big steep slam my poor boat into the dirt waves and I was a little freaked out. OK – I was scared a lot. I thought about turning around because I heard there were days people motored past the Point on a sea of glass and how wonderful that would be about right now.
Well we decided to keep going anyway. I called my position to the Coast Guard and somehow we made it to Cojo Anchorage just around the point. We set anchor in 5 foot swells and paid homage to Willie and Bob and Jimmy (all three of them) and played some buffet. A song came on that was branded into my soul. You likely won't know it, its called "Treat Her Like a Lady." And it was every thing that my heart was screaming to say at that moment. If you really want to know why finish reading my blog and Google the song.
The point is, after more than three months, BT and I had somehow navigated this little 24 foot flush deck sloop from San Francisco to San Diego. We found a big ass cheeseburger and reflected on the HOLY FUCK we did it! There were storms and squalls and I was broke the entire time. I wouldn't change a thing.
What do you care right ? It's important to realize that the day I dropped anchor in San Diego I grew up. Well, I STARTED to grow up. I had some demon to slay yet, and more trouble to find, but I slammed on the breaks and slid for a few years into adulthood.
Fast forward to 2008. The year I took the California Bar Exam. (There may be some airing of dirty laundry in what follows)
After the Baby Bar school went along fairly smoothly. Bar Review was starting in a few months and my wife was going to take care of everything so I could focus on the bar exam.
Except somewhere along the way we had a serious difference of opinion about the expectations and contributions of her tweenage daughter. So bad it seems that I wasn't wanted in the home anymore. I excused myself and rented a room across town and bar review began. There was some pretending that the problem would be fixed but we both knew it wasn't going to be. I'll own my share of the fault, whatever portion that may be. The point is, she decided to move to another State.
Then after I moved out her car got stolen or repossessed or whatever happened. They did find it, or give it back or whatever.
Around this time I noticed it was getting hotter outside and my car air conditioner wasn't working to good. In fact it didn't work at all. I live on the surface of the sun – AKA Phoenix. FUCK!!!
Next, my step father dies. Although I wasn't all that close to him I still need to be there for my family.
Next, she actually moved to Texas.
Next, we have that conversation – the one where I say leave me alone so I can get through the fucking bar exam without anymore drama or trauma.
That conversation leads to "yep – we are done."
With me so far?
Next, my air conditioner still doesn't work and its fucking HOT. I'm spending 7 days a week in my office studying and working and studying and driving in this heat.
Next, I start to have panic attacks about the bar. I don't know enough law. I don't know how to write. I don't know this, or that, or why did I go to law school anyway. It would be so much easier and peaceful to just give up. Lots of people graduate from law school and never take the bar right ?
Next, my power steering is leaking by the gallon because there is a hole in the hose. Hot and hard to handle.
Next, she gets in a car accident and lets me know while I am in the final stages of bar review.
Did I mention that bar review has made me so broke that I can't afford to fix the air conditioner in my car ?
Then something changes. I'm still a mess inside, but I'm at peace. Someone takes care of all the little things and all I have to do is focus and study. (More about all the PEOPLE who are important to my bar success in a later installment of this blog – I'm focusing on the bad shit right now and don't want to mix it up with the good stuff - thats next).
In the end, there were so many times I wanted to quit. I even said "I quit." I was frustrated and just didn't want to do it anymore.
I kept sailing.
I kept running to Georgia just like this.
I stood in the door and jumped into the open sky knowing I had struggled enough and it was time to get it on.
That fucking elephant tasted like SHIT! But I ate that fucking thing. All of it.
It started with a dream that I could be a lawyer – I could help people and really make a measurable difference in another human being's life.
The struggle was well, you read about a small part of it. I lost a lot of things. I had no life. It sucked in ways you wouldn't believe.
The prize. I took that bar – it did not take me. Whatever the results are. I've done enough, and if I fail well then I fail but not to me. I went into that room for three days and fought that monster every minute of time I was given. I stabbed and sliced and I can say FUCK YOU I can do it you BITCH!!!
I quietly slammed my bag of pens into the trash can on my way out of the room and knew that I won that war no matter what the points are in the end. I won that war because I know I won't ever quit. I won't give up. I will stab that motherfucker until it gives in to ME.
As Dylan Thomas said so many years ago …. "Do NOT go gentle into that good night…"
RAGE
RAGE
Because if you don't quit you will win.
I am many things, but I don't tap out like a bitch when it gets painful. I am not broken.
So it's not about the results in November. Its about the fact that I know the struggle has been worth every heart wrenching moment along the way.
To be continued….
Monday, August 4, 2008
How To Eat An Elephant - Part One
August 4, 2008 - Monday
Hello everyone, So many of you sent good wishes to me regarding the bar exam. Before I go on, I want to tell you how much that meant to me. It revealed to me beyond any disputation that I am a blessed man to have such wonderful people in my life who care about me.
I was told all my life that the way to eat an elephant is one bite at a time and when I started law school I was told the same thing. There were a great many hurdles to overcome before I could even get into law school. Since I never finished my undergraduate education I needed to complete a battery of college equivalency tests that established, to the satisfaction of the State Bar of California and my law school, that I had the intellectual ability of someone with a college degree.
I took these three comprehensive examinations that covered writing skills, together with a broad evaluation of the arts; history, psychology, sociology, economics, literature, anthropology, and the sciences; physics, chemistry, astronomy, biology, algebra, calculus, trigonometry. After passing these three examinations I was deemed to have the equivalent of at least 60 credit hours of undergraduate education and allowed to enroll in law school which would make me eligible to take the bar exams.
Yes, exams – plural. Since my law school was not accredited by the American Bar Association, or the State of California, I would be required to take and pass the First Year Law Student's Exam, or what we affectionately call the "Baby Bar."
The Baby Bar is a full day exam given by the California State Bar covering the first year subjects of contracts, torts, and criminal law. The exam consists of 4 essay questions completed in a 4 hour block of time in the morning, followed by 100 multiple choice questions completed in a 3 hour block of time in the afternoon. The pass rate is low – less than 30% and passing the exam is a requirement to continue in law school and ultimately take the General Bar Exam.
I passed the Baby Bar in October of 2004 and found out I had passed in December.
Preparing for the Baby Bar entailed my flying to Alaska and sequestering myself for 3 weeks and doing nothing but practice questions for 8 hours a day. This was my "Baby Bar Boot Camp" which followed a weeklong review course in Fullerton.
So at the conclusion of one year of law school I got my first glimpse of the monster. Thankfully my first strike was a fatal blow and I moved on to my second, third and fourth years of law school, trying to pretend the bar exam wasn't getting any closer.
I devoted much of my last year in law preparing myself for the bar exam, plus virtually the entire five months before I took the exam. I can safely say that this did not amount to over-preparation for the bar exam.
I had substantial assistance with my bar preparation. Many people encouraged me. A number of attorneys gave me very good advice on prepping for the exam. Certain people very generously helped make sure that I could devote my post-graduation bar prep time to studying instead of chasing money. Some of you helped me study. I was driven to the airport when I flew out to Anaheim to take the exam, picked up and delivered to my hotel, and retrieved after the last day of the exam and delivered to the airport (albeit in a rather inebriated state).
My thanks and gratitude is simply inadequate to express how much you helped me. The California bar exam, widely regarded as the longest and most difficult bar exam in the entire country, is a three day, six hours per day, challenge: not only of a candidate's knowledge, analytical ability, and skill, but also of the candidate's ability to function effectively under pressure and time constraints.
There are 2000 possible points, and to pass the exam a candidate must score at least 1440 of them. Only about half of the first-time takers pass it, and only about a third of the repeat takers. The various sections of the test are strictly timed. Through my preparation I was able to complete all the sections within the allotted time, although in virtually every case I did so with only minutes to spare. Many applicants were still frantically writing away when "time!" was called and the proctors swooped in.
I took the test at the Anaheim Convention Center – directly across from Disneyland. At approximately 8:15 a.m. on Tuesday, July 29, 2008, a thousand or so of us very dutifully lined up at the doors and presented our admission tickets to be granted entry into that basement room. My pens, earplugs, and highlighters in a clear plastic bag I found my seat and began some self relaxation exercises. Instructions were dutifully read over the center's PA system before the start of each morning and afternoon session. That voice will haunt me….
Day one's morning session had three essays. There was that damn executive powers constitutional law question Professor Fleming said would be there, along with a contracts formation question and a full professional responsibility question. I quickly decided the order I would write my answers in and poof – three hours was gone and it was done.
Oh, there was a 5.4 earthquake towards the end of the morning session. At first I thought some asshole was pushing a really big cart of chairs or tables through the convention hall – or maybe the cheerleaders upstairs were on Red Bull. But then the up and down shaking turned into a sea sickening side to side ride and everyone started screaming like bitches and diving under the tables. No offense to anyone who did that – I guess that's what you are supposed to do.
But I'm a Wardog, a Paratrooper, and fuck it all I'm not diving under any damn table to hide. Bring it on. Either way I'm going down with pen in hand writing my essay. Who knows what it all means but people are already saying there might be an "adjustment" to the scoring because of the earthquake. I'll take any points they throw at me.
Day one's afternoon session was a performance test involving writing a memo to another attorney about the tort of false imprisonment. Really that's all I remember about it. Another 3 hours poof and it was day one.
Day two was the multiple-choice question day. This involves 200 questions, 100 in each session covering criminal law, criminal procedure, contracts, constitutional law, evidence, torts, and real property. The MBE is given to law students all over the country. Due to copyright infringement by a certain bar review company the contents of the exam are now strictly deemed confidential and that's all I can say about it. Not that I remember anything anyway.
On day three, I was expecting a full evidence essay based on California law, a full civil procedure essay based on California law, and perhaps an Agency or business associations essay. Ready for the worst I turned over the questions and did my little happy dance when I saw another contracts question (this time focusing on remedies), a real property question, and a community property / wills crossover !! I literally giggled out loud and was smiling all day about the fact that there was no evidence or civil procedure as had been predicted. I was not the only applicant smiling.
I suspected a community property issue might come along and had reviewed my approaches the night before along with a few hours of evidence and civil procedure. I'm glad I didn't need it all!
Poof – 3 hours gone.
On the afternoon of day three, we had another performance test. We were the prosecuting attorney for some case involving a confession to a murder and lots of Miranda issues.
Poof 3 hours gone again… but this time everyone rose in a mixed chorus of applause, tears, and sighs of holy crap its over.I will find out the results of my bar exam in late November and will let everyone know how I did in my own time and manner. Please do not ask me about the results.
Looking back, after one eats an elephant, the bites really don't look so big anymore. But I had a lot of help and I will thank everyone in the next installment of this blog.......
Hello everyone, So many of you sent good wishes to me regarding the bar exam. Before I go on, I want to tell you how much that meant to me. It revealed to me beyond any disputation that I am a blessed man to have such wonderful people in my life who care about me.
I was told all my life that the way to eat an elephant is one bite at a time and when I started law school I was told the same thing. There were a great many hurdles to overcome before I could even get into law school. Since I never finished my undergraduate education I needed to complete a battery of college equivalency tests that established, to the satisfaction of the State Bar of California and my law school, that I had the intellectual ability of someone with a college degree.
I took these three comprehensive examinations that covered writing skills, together with a broad evaluation of the arts; history, psychology, sociology, economics, literature, anthropology, and the sciences; physics, chemistry, astronomy, biology, algebra, calculus, trigonometry. After passing these three examinations I was deemed to have the equivalent of at least 60 credit hours of undergraduate education and allowed to enroll in law school which would make me eligible to take the bar exams.
Yes, exams – plural. Since my law school was not accredited by the American Bar Association, or the State of California, I would be required to take and pass the First Year Law Student's Exam, or what we affectionately call the "Baby Bar."
The Baby Bar is a full day exam given by the California State Bar covering the first year subjects of contracts, torts, and criminal law. The exam consists of 4 essay questions completed in a 4 hour block of time in the morning, followed by 100 multiple choice questions completed in a 3 hour block of time in the afternoon. The pass rate is low – less than 30% and passing the exam is a requirement to continue in law school and ultimately take the General Bar Exam.
I passed the Baby Bar in October of 2004 and found out I had passed in December.
Preparing for the Baby Bar entailed my flying to Alaska and sequestering myself for 3 weeks and doing nothing but practice questions for 8 hours a day. This was my "Baby Bar Boot Camp" which followed a weeklong review course in Fullerton.
So at the conclusion of one year of law school I got my first glimpse of the monster. Thankfully my first strike was a fatal blow and I moved on to my second, third and fourth years of law school, trying to pretend the bar exam wasn't getting any closer.
I devoted much of my last year in law preparing myself for the bar exam, plus virtually the entire five months before I took the exam. I can safely say that this did not amount to over-preparation for the bar exam.
I had substantial assistance with my bar preparation. Many people encouraged me. A number of attorneys gave me very good advice on prepping for the exam. Certain people very generously helped make sure that I could devote my post-graduation bar prep time to studying instead of chasing money. Some of you helped me study. I was driven to the airport when I flew out to Anaheim to take the exam, picked up and delivered to my hotel, and retrieved after the last day of the exam and delivered to the airport (albeit in a rather inebriated state).
My thanks and gratitude is simply inadequate to express how much you helped me. The California bar exam, widely regarded as the longest and most difficult bar exam in the entire country, is a three day, six hours per day, challenge: not only of a candidate's knowledge, analytical ability, and skill, but also of the candidate's ability to function effectively under pressure and time constraints.
There are 2000 possible points, and to pass the exam a candidate must score at least 1440 of them. Only about half of the first-time takers pass it, and only about a third of the repeat takers. The various sections of the test are strictly timed. Through my preparation I was able to complete all the sections within the allotted time, although in virtually every case I did so with only minutes to spare. Many applicants were still frantically writing away when "time!" was called and the proctors swooped in.
I took the test at the Anaheim Convention Center – directly across from Disneyland. At approximately 8:15 a.m. on Tuesday, July 29, 2008, a thousand or so of us very dutifully lined up at the doors and presented our admission tickets to be granted entry into that basement room. My pens, earplugs, and highlighters in a clear plastic bag I found my seat and began some self relaxation exercises. Instructions were dutifully read over the center's PA system before the start of each morning and afternoon session. That voice will haunt me….
Day one's morning session had three essays. There was that damn executive powers constitutional law question Professor Fleming said would be there, along with a contracts formation question and a full professional responsibility question. I quickly decided the order I would write my answers in and poof – three hours was gone and it was done.
Oh, there was a 5.4 earthquake towards the end of the morning session. At first I thought some asshole was pushing a really big cart of chairs or tables through the convention hall – or maybe the cheerleaders upstairs were on Red Bull. But then the up and down shaking turned into a sea sickening side to side ride and everyone started screaming like bitches and diving under the tables. No offense to anyone who did that – I guess that's what you are supposed to do.
But I'm a Wardog, a Paratrooper, and fuck it all I'm not diving under any damn table to hide. Bring it on. Either way I'm going down with pen in hand writing my essay. Who knows what it all means but people are already saying there might be an "adjustment" to the scoring because of the earthquake. I'll take any points they throw at me.
Day one's afternoon session was a performance test involving writing a memo to another attorney about the tort of false imprisonment. Really that's all I remember about it. Another 3 hours poof and it was day one.
Day two was the multiple-choice question day. This involves 200 questions, 100 in each session covering criminal law, criminal procedure, contracts, constitutional law, evidence, torts, and real property. The MBE is given to law students all over the country. Due to copyright infringement by a certain bar review company the contents of the exam are now strictly deemed confidential and that's all I can say about it. Not that I remember anything anyway.
On day three, I was expecting a full evidence essay based on California law, a full civil procedure essay based on California law, and perhaps an Agency or business associations essay. Ready for the worst I turned over the questions and did my little happy dance when I saw another contracts question (this time focusing on remedies), a real property question, and a community property / wills crossover !! I literally giggled out loud and was smiling all day about the fact that there was no evidence or civil procedure as had been predicted. I was not the only applicant smiling.
I suspected a community property issue might come along and had reviewed my approaches the night before along with a few hours of evidence and civil procedure. I'm glad I didn't need it all!
Poof – 3 hours gone.
On the afternoon of day three, we had another performance test. We were the prosecuting attorney for some case involving a confession to a murder and lots of Miranda issues.
Poof 3 hours gone again… but this time everyone rose in a mixed chorus of applause, tears, and sighs of holy crap its over.I will find out the results of my bar exam in late November and will let everyone know how I did in my own time and manner. Please do not ask me about the results.
Looking back, after one eats an elephant, the bites really don't look so big anymore. But I had a lot of help and I will thank everyone in the next installment of this blog.......
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