Daffnee

We drove 4 hours from DC to Roanoke to take the bar exam, so we figured we should at least make the best of it. This sunny optimism came mostly via a Magellan Maestro GPS system, which magically transformed me from navigational nightmare to the Wesley Crusher of road tripping.

 
 
 
 


That last one is a bunch of stalactites that look like a shaggy dog. I'm a sucker for highway advertising.

What if I failed the bar exam?

Eeeek.

This is us! Kinda.

Hot nerdy girl, excitedly: Well, I want a car that's like a cuttlefish! Like, it can change colors and escape from danger and stuff!
Boyfriend: [Blank stare.]
Hot nerdy girl: I think that'd be awesome.
Boyfriend: ... You're kinda cute, and I love you.

(From OiNY).

Mead isn't half bad!

There is so much friggin' law in the Commonwealth of Virginia that I want to cry.

The fear of bar review has finally struck, and I'm starting to pull hours like I haven't since...well, since the LSAT. Which shows you how great of a law student I am.

There's something very high school about bar review. The last time all of my testable material came from a single volume was high school, and even then we had different books for different subjects -- not so for bar review. You see the same people every day, at the same time, in roughly the same seats, in front of a barely-present lecturer. And as you go through the notes, the drills, the questions and the essays, you can't escape the feeling that, like high school, this has less to do with anything you actually learn and more to do with the motions.

The first of an army.

 

By day I go to Barbri. By night, I spackle.