I live. I have been keeping to myself since the bar exam. Not being as fortunate as some of my colleagues, who have been able to indulge in post-exam travels, I have instead stayed home and shunned most company.
The examination itself was an ordeal. I could write pages and pages, but I will sum up quickly. The first day--the Virginia essays--seemed fair. I had prepared reasonably well. I feel that I did about as well as I could, given my preparation, and given the stresses of the day. I know for a fact that I bungled a few questions; I am reasonably confident that I gained a few points on others.
The second day--the MBE--was a nightmare. It was, literally, ill-augured: I arrived at the examination site to see a falcon being harassed by six crows. The morning session was three or five times more difficult than any practice examination I had attempted during my preparation. I finished early, if for no other reason than I simply guessed on a number of questions. The final afternoon session was somewhat less impossible, but no less distressing.
When it was over, I felt no joy, no relief, no satisfaction. I felt empty and numb--drained.
There is no way of knowing how well or poorly I did. The scores will be published in October. Until the Examiners inform me that I passed, at least some small corner of my mind will be devoted to preparing to run this particular gauntlet once more in Norfolk this coming February.
The immutable system engenders rot
- I live. For now.