Sometimes, during a fleeting moment of real life, I get a taste of something that almost amounts to inspiration, and I think fondly of the blog, or canvases, or writing projects I’m neglecting.  Once in a while, when I’m feeling optimistic, I even think I’m going to fit something creative into my day… But as I’m collapsing onto my bed in exhaustion, I usually remember that with a smirk, the same way I remember my fleeting unrealistic dreams of being an Olympic figure skater or a rock star.  I’ve instead filled my days with lectures and outlines, and writing thousands of note cards… Which still need to be memorized in the next 15 days.

It used to be that when people talked about the insanity of studying for the bar, I thought they were exaggerating.  Nothing else has lived up to it’s hype of horror.  While I hated law school at the end for a variety of reasons, it was never ever as hard as people tried to convince me it would be.

So when I read that studying for the bar I was going to forget about hygiene and become a hermit and completely lose all sanity, I scoffed. Maybe those people who thought law school finals were the end of the world would be like that.  But surely I would get by, just like I aways have: stressed, cranky, and prone to leave things in weird places, like my phone in the fridge, but not unable to function.  Certainly not forgetting to shower and becoming a hermit.

Except… When I went to the grocery store on Friday, I couldn’t remember when I had last left the house before that.  There are days I never change out of my pajamas.  And when I do remember to shower, I usually end up back in a different pair of pajamas right after.  I’ve went days without putting on makeup… More days than I’ve ever went since I was 13 and discovered makeup. I rarely know what day of the week it is because they all run together. I get up, study, eat lunch, study, have some dinner, study, fall asleep, dream about what I’ve studied, repeat.

Surprisingly, my husband and I have succeeded in doing this study routine day in and day out for weeks, in the same apartment, without attempting to kill each other.  It’s a miracle, and one that I don’t expect to last all the way to the 24th.

But if Facebook and random accounts by electronic communication during quick breaks hold true, we’re still in better mental shape then most of our peers.  We still have groceries.  We still have clean laundry.  The apartment still looks inhabitable. No tears have been shed over practice tests.  My hand hasn’t actually fallen off.

The countdown is on… Real life is getting close!