Good Luck, 2008 Bar Examinees!

It’s hard to believe it’s been two years. How could that be, when the memories lodged in my brain are as fresh as yesterday’s? Well, maybe indeed, much of the most challenging times of our lives leave mementos not even time can diminish.

For it was a Saturday like no other. It was a prelude to D-day, the penultimate call to the marks. At stake were lots of invested precious time, money, effort and lost social lives.

I still remember everything I did that interesting day: I went to the hotel room just about after lunch. I brought a bagful of books and notes, like it were it still possible to read them all. I joined the last minute brush-ups with anxious mentors and cackled with the rest of the guillotine gang in discussing answers to supposed tips. Our juniors were all over the place, doing errands that would shame the household help.

The tension caused me a budding headache that I know would only be aborted if I were to get a massage. I went out of the hotel to have a quick one. But while in the middle of the soothing caresses, I was jolted. What if one of my brain nerves get wrongly pressed and would erase everything I have so far learned? The realization brought me to my feet to run back to the hotel.

There it was hell unleashed – on the façade come the comforts of the room, but inside me was a mad rush to grasp every legal tidbit that would still find space in my overcrowded brain.

I remember not having any decent sleep that night. I tried, but the mindless crackling of liquored voices from the nearby bar wasn’t much help. It did fire-up my inner Rambo, but it was a good thing I realized I was studying to uphold the majesty of the law. I retreated to the CR where I read the Constitution until dawn.

From there of course were events that others would call history. I prefer to call everything, my fate. After all, many twists have since unfolded and life for me has gone to extents I never thought still possible.

Today, the Saturday before the first Bar Sunday, is the most critical day for the “baristas”. How the student composes himself now, will matter a lot during the rest of the entire month-long ordeal. And having been there before, I can only sympathize.

Many of my schoolmates whose mettle will be tested beginning tomorrow are still my classmates (there was a time I had 1^st, 2^nd and 3^rd year subjects in a semester). And for one who is not easily impressed, I am convinced that these guys have the makings of good lawyers. I do hope they will make the cut, or better yet, lead the pack.

For the first time in six years, I will not be in Taft Avenue for the traditional send-offs and festive rituals. Much as I would want to show my personal support, I am helplessly constrained by more pressing concerns far from where the action is.

But through this blog, I convey my best wishes to all those who will march into La Salle tomorrow. And with the rest of their friends, relatives and schoolmates, I am hopeful that they will all emerged triumphant in this battle of wits and personal resolve.

Godspeed!