Creative License

I was 15 1/2 when I got my first driver's license. It was the most exciting point in my life up till then. The fear of failure was overwhelming to the point that I was sure I was going to fail. I didn't. I passed on the first time.

When I left that state and moved to another, I didn't have to retake any tests to get a new license. I just walked into the DMV, gave them a copy of my social security card, my old drivers license and smiled for the camera. I guess they assumed if I knew how to yield to oncoming traffic in one state, crossing state lines wasn't going to automatically erase that piece of knowledge from my head.

Since the original granting jurisdiction deemed me fit to drive, I've held a license to drive in four different states. One of them actually made me retake the written test, but to date none have made me retake the driving test. Therefore, my profound parallel parking skills have only been tested once in my life. And that was nearly 20 years ago. But trust me when I say, I parallel park exactly the same way now as I did then. Horribly.

Now, as a lawyer I have to be licensed in the state where I am working. It seems like yesterday that I was filling out the 40 page application to take the bar for the first, and in my mind only, time. They wanted to know every address - even temporary - for the past 10 years. Every job - even temporary, including periods of unemployment longer than 28 days - for the past 10 years. A copy of my first born, blood samples, and proof that I wipe front to back - in triplicate. I'll admit, I faked it a little. But it went through. After six long weeks of 9 hour days studying for the bar I sat for the exam, passed, and whammo bammo I was a lawyer.

Somehow the logic of driver's licenses does not carry over to legal licenses. Every state requires me to take the bar again until I have practiced in one jurisdiction for at least 5 years. Yeah, like I'm ever going to live anywhere for five years in a row. So, I've spent the last 24 hours filling out yet another bar application to sit for yet another bar. Ugh. And to make matters worse, my deadline is Friday. Yup, Friday. Last time it took me 3 weeks to do the application. I found out on Tuesday night that I had to have the application done on Friday. Ugh.

So, I've decided to stay where I'm at until I get it done. Addresses, phone numbers, names, and dates are simply easier to access here than they will be when I'm on the road. The down side of that is I closed on the house on Wednesday, so I'm squatting at various places until I leave town.

On the up side, I finally know where I'm going. I finally know when I'm going to get there. And for the first time in months, I know for sure what I'm going to do when the dust settles. It's not glamorous. It's not the most amazing, write home to your mom, front page news kinda thing in the world, but all in all I think it will be ok.

Now, with all of that, Tuesday was supposed to be my last night with George. Now that I'm in town until Saturday morning, Friday will be my last night with George. One more page in the "I'm leaving...wait not yet" book we have so craftily written over the course of the past three months.

But, I'll think about that when I get the application done. Back to trying to figure out whether I wore black or navy on November 18, 1997.