Tuesday, June 17, 2008

Official update

This whole Bar study period has proved more distracting than even I anticipated or hoped, so the updates haven't been coming as hard and fast as I'd hoped. Let's divide things by topic or theme.

Cat of Doom

The cat is gone. In fact, the cat has been gone for about a week now. After another day of awkward coexistence - involving, among other interactions, the cat deciding to share a bed with me without regard for my allergies - I successfully convinced my parents to adopt her for as long as Tina and I are living in my sister's place.

At first, we were jubilant. Hooray! We were free of the feline scourge! We spontaneously cheered our good fortune over and over again as we spent our last evening with the cat, eying her disdainfully and intoning, "Soon, little one, soon you will be gone."

But Tina and I are inherently good people, and soon our consciences caught up with us. Our joy was soon tainted with subtle, bubbling undertones of guilt. Who are we, we asked ourselves, to kick this creature out of its home for our own convenience? Perhaps we should try to find a way to peacefully coexist with her? And that cat, as if sensing the softening of our hearts with her keen feline senses, began to ingratiate herself with us. She let us be as we worked. She quietly approached and rubbed her head gently against our legs. She sat patiently, docilely, as we pet her. She purred affectionately as we responded to her siren's call, as if to say to us, "I'll be good! I swear! Just give me another chance!" She even started doing extra cute things, like drinking water from the faucet:


Then she bit Tina again, and as the blood flowed, the reconciliation ended. Good riddance, Demon Cat.

With the cat gone, we considered our displaced, if not defeated, foe. We decided that she was like the Boo Ghost from the old Mario games. When you're looking at her, she's still, safe, placid. But turn your back, and she'll chase you down, fangs out.

General Misfortunes

Our life has, aside from the huge misery of Bar review, also been a cavalcade of minor miseries. We decided to go to the brand new-looking Quiznos down the street from our house, only to discover that it was already shut down (sure is a fancy-looking sign, though). We tried to go to the Ralph's down the street (identified to us by both my mother and by the Internet), only to discover that it had recently been converted into a sketchy Korean specialty supermarket...which was across the street from another sketchy Korean specialty supermarket. As we departed from the (first) Korean supermarket in failure, Tina inserted the key into her rental car and turned...and turned...and turned...except it didn't move. Why didn't it move? No explanation. We removed the key from the ignition, opened the door, exited the car, closed the doors, opened the doors, got back in, reinserted the key, and started the car. There was no evidence that what happened wasn't merely in our minds except that both of us experienced it.

Speaking of Experiences of the Mind...

Bar study is not good for one's mental health. As early as last week, I spent a few minutes curled up in a ball on the floor of our kitchen, laughing till I cried, and insisting to myself that the laughter was the only reason for the tears. I remember watching my roommate last summer go through the Bar study process, and observing quietly as he slowly unraveled. By the end of June, he was drawing vaguely disturbing, highly emo images depiction his suffering and his projected failure of the Bar. It wasn't until this year that I realized the irony of making the drawings on index cards (or as I now think of them, blank flash cards). And the only reason I haven't followed suit yet is because I've specifically barred myself from sad drawings until June is over.

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