Saturday, July 25, 2009

Invasion Of The (Mind) Snatchers

Over the course of the last few weeks, my sleepy college town has been invaded by stress-case maniacs.

In a town where cows usually outnumber people in the summer months, where there are more coffee shops than there are places to buy a pair of socks, there is not a single free seat to be found. I tried 4 different cafes before I found a free seat- and even this one is wedged between a despondent man deeply in need of a shave, and a girl who keeps cradling her head in her hands and whispering to herself. If it weren't for the proliferation of bright blue books and OCD-style highlighting everywhere, I would swear that we'd had an invasion of unusually academic homeless people at the local Peets.

They're not homeless. They've just been driven from their living rooms and home studies in a pique of "I just need a change of pace!" or else been summarily thrown out by roommates, friends, and significant others. They're everywhere, brows furrowed and glancing furtively at the fellow sufferers next to them, lest someone else understand wills and trusts just a little bit better than they do. Not much changes in the few months after graduation, it seems.

Watching them- the few, the proud, the law school graduates- I'm filled with a mixture of thankfulness ("this is not me!") and loathsome recognition ("oh, but it will be."). The bar is close enough that you can count the distance in hours instead of days, and there's a certain aura of Everything Depends On This that is hanging in the air like a pungent layer of smog over an otherwise perfectly lovely summer day.

Over the last few weeks, folks at the firm have been solicitously asking if I am worried about the bar exam. I wasn't, until they started asking, but sitting in this coffee shop, trying to type in the least annoying manner possible, I can finally appreciate that I may think that I am worried, but only because I don't know what it means to actually be stressed. This adds a certain amount of perspective to my inevitable fall angst- I will be reminding myself, come October, that it could be much, much worse.

From where I sit, these people have nothing to worry about. It is summer! You will pass! Everything will be fine! I have a feeling these sentiments won't resonant with my seatmates, and watching them, I feel the sympathy of a kindred spirit. Bar sufferers, my dearest condolences. Study up, and then move along. I liked this place better when it didn't reverberate with the fear of what's to come.

Updated to add: Let me be more explicit, my poor bar-studying friends: I am so very glad I am not you, and so very afraid of being in your shoes next year, when I will do Crazy Pre Bar in true Nobody form (read: the apeshit, neurotic way). In the meantime, your care packages are in the mail already (because hugs don't ship well). Hang in there. I hope you like gingersnaps...and if you're on the blogroll, and want to get added to the gingersnap list, you have until Monday to say so. Kisses!

2 comments:

SillyLittle said...

Oh just you wait. When you hit this point next summer... you will have at least one of the following emotions
a) hatred for all types of law
b) hatred for people who don't record deeds and/or sell property multiple times
c) wonder if you'll ever pass
d) hope that knowing a little about a lot will get you over that "minimum competency" hurdle
e) wonder why you went to law school in the first place

And yes, you too will be a stress-case-sleep-deprived maniac by this time next summer. In the mean time, if you have any friends studying for the bar -- give them a break or do something nice for them -- and be glad that you have a whole year before you're in as much pain as we are.

Legally Fabulous said...

Ughhh I am soooo dreading this next year. Sounds miserable. Good Luck!!!

All rights reserved to my snotty and generally self-deprecating writing. And if your comments bother me, I'll delete them. That's right, pumpkin.
...How dreary—to be—Somebody!
How public—like a Frog—
To tell one's name—the livelong June—
To an admiring Bog!
-- Emily Dickinson