Oh my. Two down, one to go.

Friday's civ pro exam: significantly (and thus scarily) easier than her previous exams, which were killers. If it was easier for me, it was easier for everyone, so with the curve... please let me end up with a B. I'd ask for higher, but I don't believe in miracles.

Yesterday's 8-hour take-home property exam: brain-dead from studying, so I didn't get much productive work done over the weekend for this Monday exam. I got to the room where the senior citizens were handing out the test (and for some reason the procters are all senior citizens, which is nice -- they're sticklers but sweet) around 8:20 am and nearly every seat was filled. I got my test, went to the cafeteria and bought a bagel, then went to the library, where I'd set up my stuff at 8. My stomach was not happy. Roiling, boiling, crashing nausea. Okay, it wasn't that bad. But I could barely eat. Which turned out to be a good thing, because except for two bathroom trips, I didn't leave my seat between 8:45 am and 4:15 pm.

Thanks to One-Armed Maggie, I'd brought an Odwalla bar, four tangerines, two bananas, two snack-size bags of Smartfood popcorn, a cup of coffee, and the bagel to the library with me, and I snarfed them down as I worked through the test. It's astonishing how fast 8 hours go by when you're writing up an exam. I unfortunately got so wrapped up in crafting a pretty response on the first question that I spent 3 and a half hours answering it, which left me two hours each for the remaining two. That's when I thought with gratitude about the advice I'd listened to: "Snacks. Bring lots of snacks." So spaketh One-Armed Maggie, the wise one.

Now, the remaining and least-studied-for final: Contracts. Tomorrow. 10:30 am. At least for the other two I finished reviewing notes and making an outline before I got back to school. I have a chapter and a half left for this one, and I've done no practice exams, nothing. But because it's the last exam, I'm having a hard time caring. Also, because my prof has shown himself to be less than caring about teaching 1Ls (witness: the other two teachers we had scheduled lunches with us, have office hours, etc. -- not so, for Contracts man!), I have discovered I have little motivation to do well. Except for the usual anal-retentiveness and narrow focus on short-term goals, that is.

Even if I liked this class and wanted to do really well on it, I'd have a hard time focusing. My mental faculties are dull, worn down by using them (on mind-numbingly dreary material, I remind you!) over the past three weeks. I started studying on Dec. 21 -- admittedly, in a dilettante-ish fashion at first, but by Dec. 28, I'd ramped up to several hours a day. When I got back here, I started doing 14-hour days in the library. So -- I'm beat. And -- I don't care. And -- I gotta go study now.

I will say, though, that studying and taking exams is far less depressing than reading for and going to class was during the term. Short-term goals, I tell ya. They're so much more fun than life.

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A Postscript

Thanks to Double M, who sent me two US Weeklys in the mail last week (perfect for the mind-weary!), I read up about Brad and Jen's possible split and was not TOO shocked when they announced it. By the way, for any misguided souls who think that law students spend their free time discussing the theories of Oliver Wendell Holmes or how Kant applies to contracts doctrines or the opinions of Learned Hand -- dream ON, my friend! And come back to the real world! Which is one of the many, many TV shows watched by law students here at Crimson College, along with The Bachelorette, Desperate Housewives -- that's just me, and I'm picky -- The O.C., The Nanny, Golden Girls -- yes, there is a woman in my hall who LOVES those shows -- as well as other "respectable shows" like Law and Order, Alias, etc. Intellectuals? I think there might be one or two floating around, but they're an oddity and a rarity, and really, it's all about Brad and Jen. Who, speaking of, are splitting up. Rumors have it that it's because Jen wouldn't pop out a baby.

Now, if the gossip is true, and it's all about the baby issue, please, please, please, media, shut up before I pull a Sydney Bristow and tell you my name is Ima (Gonnakickyourass). Take your judgementalness and shove it up where the sun don't shine, because it's fine when two people agree that their life goals don't match up, and they should split, but it is so, so, SO not fine when a man wants to have a kid, and the woman who's gotta have it wants to do something else first, and is blamed for the breakup. So Jen wants to work on her career. She's 35 years old. She's got about 5 more years where she can play a wide range of characters, and then she'll be shoved into the "40 -- but still sexy!" category. (I don't need to remind you that we don't have such a category for men; if we had one, it'd be "70 -- but still sexy!") We don't blame Brad for wanting kids -- why are we blaming Jen for not wanting kids (right now)? For wanting to put her life and career first (right now)?

It's about not Brad and Jen. I don't know what their deal was or why they're breaking up, and I don't really care. It's about being allowed to define yourself without being judged by a standard that should have gone the way of the 1957 Chrysler Edsel (okay, not the greatest analogy, but you get my drift).

For the rant that got me started, see this editorial.