All Bad Mood-y

[I'd ask, rhetorically, how one weekend can be as basically positive as Mother's Day weekend was, and how just five days later, everything can turn so black...but I already know. There are piles of Bar review books, outlines, flash cards and sundry materials all over my bedroom. I've got them organized by subject, exam-type, and owner (don't wanna mix Chris's and mine), and...]

[...I don't know if I can do it. Between Friday morning and Monday morning, I left the apartment exactly once, to walk up to the Dilapidated Tchotchke Shop On Polk late Saturday afternoon to see Allen. Other than that, I hibernated and ate; watched DVDs (Y Tu Mama Tambien - tambien - and the ever-uplifting sixth season of Buffy); read Maurice, A Room With A View, and began Aspects Of The Novel (A. has got me on this Forster kick); talked to a few key people; and failed profoundly to figure out what the hell's wrong with me.]

[I've totally created this personal Rubicon for myself, and I could make it all go away with one simple "no." The external voices (some pretty actual, some mostly made-up) are guiding my anxiety, and my own inner voice just shrugs helplessly. I felt some pretty serious despair about all this as the late-season rain fell outside.]

[I have a follow-up doctor's appointment this week. Maybe it's time to ask about some pretty purple or yellow pill.]

Previously Next

[Later: Max passes along the news that Stanford Law Dean Kathleen Sullivan can't pass the California Bar either. I wish being reminded yet again that this exam doesn't test anything useful made things better, but it doesn't. It just reiterates, for me, the basic futility of the whole exercise. For me. (Maybe it'll make my dear Mulhersinha feel a bit better, though.)]