Not having a child has been my greatest contribution to humanity thus far. It’s not that I hate children; not all lights have gone green yet for me to spawn issue.
What do I mean by that? As a law person (Law…yer? Supposedly risk averse), equity trader (hobbyist), and blackjack hobbyist, I try to go through a process, an objective if-this-then-that test, that tells me that certain conditions must be triggered to proceed with a certain action with an acceptable reward/risk. Emotionally deviating from a set approach may mean your bankroll/account/negotiation gets wiped out.
And you can manage your own risk, too, through preparation. Preparation lowers your risk of non-passage. Thank you, Fleet Admiral Obvious! You’re welcome, but have you really thought about how much preparation is needed for an acceptable level of risk? When there are only a couple more weeks to go, the state of the union inevitably seems to turn to “this is awful i wanna die HELP!”
I was browsing the July 2014 CBX topic at top-law-schools dot com slash forums. It’s what I do as I look around my room deciding where to put the portrait of myself holding my own portrait. Of course, I never end up hanging it anywhere because it’s the journey, not the destination.
But then I came across these little . . . nuggets.
The thing about reality is that your brain doesn’t notice it until it’s wrapped tightly around your brain like a sheet of aluminum foil, crinkling and making a polygonal mess.
0 minutes remaining. I slapped in my applicant ID, my entry ticket to three seconds of pristine agony. Then two, three more times. I made sure I was reading correctly. For once, I wasn’t delusional.
I could feel the heavy air of TRUTH closing in around me. Light fading quickly. But I wanted to believe. No, the silvery foil pushed its way around the noodles of my brain, turning into TV static. It was wrapped around the potato, and my brain realized it then.
In some other universe, I passed. But in this one, I failed. I failed. I failed.
2013 was the worst year of my life. My brain convinced me to break up with my friend of ten years and girlfriend of three. My dad screamed at our family on Christmas morning and night. I failed the July bar and haven’t since posted a status on Facebook out of supreme shame. 16 months and counting since becoming Facebook celibate. Facelibate.
I lied down on my bed. Then I got up.
The experiment was a failure. It was time to change the variables. This was how I would prove I was not insane. Then 2014 became the best year of my life.
Having experienced both outcomes of the California Bar Exam, I’ve distilled the following insights that were instrumental to passing the bar. These are things I did the second time but not the first time. Do you like clickbait? You won’t believe #4!