Back to the real world, or so it is as I perceive it . . . .

So I left this phone number at which the law school school can reach me if I managed to fail any class. I only took two finals, one of which was Saturday. I have been sleeping almost constantly since then.

I have been praying and panicked when not asleep. Abba, please let me have passed.

Now, as to the last test itself . . . I knew that I was in trouble when the first question was not even in english. I am quite certain of this. Trust me. I have a degree in english. This was not that. It was latin. My mom got me a calendar for Christmas called latin for the illiterate. It was an open-book test. I should have taken that in with me! Ipso facto, res judicata, civitate dei, agnus dei, contate domino, gloria in excelsis deo, Kyrie Eleison, whatever! It had nothing to do with the flipping stock market, agency, or partership. When the test starts off in a language in which I am not fluent, I feel every right to panic.

And from my notes, the bar-bri outline, the outline I got from Noel, and various other sources I took into that test, most of the options for the majority of the questions were either all right or all wrong.

Prayers and faith.

So Be It. (Amen.)


And if the law school calls to tell me that I failed anything, I'll be sitting right here. Right by the phone. With a pound of chocolates and reading for pleasure for the first time in months. Ring. I dare you. Go ahead. Try it. Just think you might call me.

Oh, please don't!


"And I'm down on my luck again
And I don't know what to do
Yeah, I'm down on my luck again
And I don't know what to do-oo-oo-oo.
But baby, I'll call you.
Just as soon as I get home."
--J. C. Julian Lennon, _On the Phone_