On Standing in the Doorjamb
I have been strangely peace-filled the last few weeks, and I (together with my friends) have pondered why this is so. Bar exam study season is not exactly the intuitive setting for the type of tranquility and contentment that has recently washed over me like a warm wave on a lazy beach at sunset. After all, there are no fewer than twenty-one subjects to be learned and mastered in just eight weeks’ time (and only 31 days are left!), and my law license depends on my ability to pass this two-day test at the end of July. Any bar applicant will tell you that this is no small deal.
So why the inexplicable calm in the midst of an embroiling storm? I’ve been thinking about it, and I am finally approaching a plausible theory: the bar review is my escape. It’s an outlet and a black hole into which I shove, stuff, and otherwise aggressively channel all the grief and sadness that I otherwise would focus on and feel because of the life changes that are about to take place in a couple short months — New job. New city. New faces. The old, the familiar, and most of the most-loved — mostly gone.
Already, my 1L and 2L friends are off doing their summer jobs, but when they return here in the fall, I’ll be gone. And some of my best 3L friends are already moved away… others are here for the summer, but will not be accompanying me to the City in the fall — instead, they will go back to their countries to pursue careers there, or they will remain here in Cambridge to keep on keeping on. In other words, my time with some of my dearest and most beloved people is either up — or quite near finished.
The magnitude of these truths is too weighty for me to manage, so … like an ostrich with its head buried in the sand, I refuse to confront what lies squarely in front of me… and I bury my nose deep into my Barbri books. All thirty-five pounds of Barbri books. In those books, lines of text summarizing reams of settled law march in neat little rows, paragraph after paragraph, and page after page. Everything is numbered, sequential, outlined, logical, and ordered. In this little nerdy legal universe, there are no emotional attachments, just a sizeable task at hand and a tight deadline that must be met.
It doesn’t mean that I don’t still feel the tension. I think our souls crave truth no matter how much we try and shield ourselves in the name of self-protection; and occasionally when I come up for air from my hiding, I do realize that I’m standing in a doorjamb these days. One foot lingers in yesterday and the other stands ready to step into tomorrow. The hardest part about standing in the doorjamb is this status of in-betweenness — which is neither here nor there, neither ‘will be’ nor ‘was.’ Everything is in flux. There is a constant push and pull, an urge to hang on and yet the pressure to let go. And I just don’t want to deal with it.
That’s where bar exam studies come in. While my life is generally very active, this bar review has significantly diminished my capacity (in the way of both time and energy) to perpetuate the type of social life I had before. Now I carefully guard my schedule and make plans for no more than one social engagement per day (if I can help it). And every day, I get up at the same time (6:58am), head to the gym and work out for exactly 45 minutes, hop in the bathroom to get clean around 8:11/8:13, am out by 8:21/8:23, eat breakfast and get out of the door by 8:45/8:46 — to arrive for class just before 9am. My double cousin sits to my right, and my friend Gee Whiz sits to my left, and off we go. We sit in class for 3-4 hours a day, grab lunch, and then study in the library in the afternoon.
It’s the practically the same thing every single day. I see the same people. I study the same material (after a while, all 21 subjects start to sound the same). Breakfast is always the same (six identical cereal boxes in a row so far). I even eat the same roasted chicken/hummus/tortilla wrap sandwich day after day, week after week [note: I do switch up the flavors of hummus, though]. I call my parents at night, then get to bed as close to 11:45 as possible. Day in and day out. Just like clockwork, with minor variations depending on which friend I’m suppering with and whether I’m taking an evening break to watch “The Wire: Season One.”
But really — this routine is like a drug, a mindless and perpetual cycle to occupy my days and tie up my thoughts and energy toward an admittedly legitimate end (I mean… who can fault me, right? It’s a good thing to pass this bar exam). What a convenient “out,” though. In reality, I know I’m enjoying this way more than I should. I’m savoring the daily grind of work to get me through this transitional phase, and thankful for its power to numb me and spare me from thinking too deeply about a tremendous life change that I will eventually have to face.
Just… not now, please. Not now.