So, we (Dem, Elliot, and I) are nearing the completion of our time apart. In about a week, I will have finished the bar exam, and will have arrived in Midland, Texas. At that point, finally, we'll be together as a family again. It'll be the first time I will have seen Elliot in five weeks; and, considering he's only eight months old, that means I have missed a good chunk of his life. Needless to say, the reunion will be joyful.
Until then, however, the bar exam intrudes on my thoughts every moment. Never would I wish it on my worst enemy (be he commie, fascist, or Dennis Kucinich, a.k.a., Gollum)
to spend twelve to fourteen hours per day studying contracts, property, torts, con law, crim law, admin law, wills, trusts, corporations, agency, partnership, evidence, sales, indian law, secured transactions, civil procedure, etc.
Honestly, I wake up at night thinking about the definition of burglary -- the breaking and entry at nighttime of the dwelling of another with the intent to commit a felony inside the dwelling. How messed up is that?! And, if I'm feeling particularly boring while asleep, I'll conjure up some res ipsa loquitor, which contains the following exciting requirements: (1) Demonstrate the accident is not the type that normally happens in the absence of negligence, and (2) negligence is attributable to defendant (normally demonstrated by showing defendant was in exclusive control of that instrumentalities that caused the accident).
In light of how the bar so thoroughly depletes one's humanity, I expect to see the following engraved above the bar exam entrance in Albuquerque: Lasciate ogni speranza, voi ch'entrate [Abandon all hope, all ye who enter here]. This is, of course, part of the famous inscription above the gates of hell in Dante's Inferno. Upon entering the gates, Dante sees all number of teeth curling monstrosities. My only question is: Is what Dante saw worse than what I will see in six days? I doubt it. My bet is Dante's horrors ain't got nothin' on the bar.