Wednesday, September 29, 2004

On being an adult.

It's confirmed. Mr. Maybe and I are just friends. No more, no less. I set him up for it - I needed to hear it (or read it, rather) - but it still upset me. Of course we're just friends. We live 8 hours apart and may never live near each other ever again. We dated for a matter of weeks. I got the email at the end of my day. I had been in court for the afternoon, just observing a high-profile trial. I got back at the end of the day and saw his name in my inbox. And when I read his subtle answer to my subtle question, it was clear as day what we were both saying.

I left work and had to go to a local law school to pick up MPRE materials. That was a bigger hassle than it was worth, and I was running late for Tuesday Fun Night, which is supposed to be a weekly gathering of friends to just hang out and touch base. It has fallen off as of late, and I'm only a recent participant, but they are friends whose company I enjoy very much. Fun Night was scheduled for tonight, and I had reluctantly agreed to participate despite a fellowship application due tomorrow and dragged another friend into it. We decided to meet at the liquor store halfway between home and the subway, so he could get wine and we could quickly get on our way. I'm not gonna lie, I was feeling sorry for myself and quite lonely on the subway ride home, and I shed a sorrowful tear or two. When I got to the liquor store, my friend was waiting for me with two bottles of wine. He went into the store to get his keys, which he thought he left on the counter. I went over to his truck and - get this - it was running, and his keys were locked in it. He never does anything like that. He comes out and I indicate the problem to him. We have to wait for a locksmith, we're going to be a little later than planned for Fun Night. I even tried breaking into his truck with a credit card. (Where are my kids when I need them?) So he puts the wine bottles in the brown bags in the bed of his truck, pulls down the gate of his truck, grins, and says, "Wanna have a seat? let's be even more ghetto." I hopped on, kicked my legs and said, "What's even better is that this feels like home." While we waited in the tiny parking lot of the liquor store in the middle of the city with rush hour traffic all around, I told him a story.

Two nights ago, I read my tarot cards. I do that every once in a while when I start to lose my balance. People think different things about tarot cards, which is fine. What I will say about them is that when you read your own, you give your own spin to each of the meanings of the cards. If nothing else, it will indicate to you more clearly what you're feeling and thinking, and where you feel like you're headed. It doesn't necessarily tell you the future. It just tells you what you already know. My tarot cards have never been wrong. I read my cards twice, for different but related questions. The second reading stood out for me more than the first did. Both readings indicated that the center of the question was a smart and skilled woman selflessly offering her help to others. The second reading told me that there was a recently passing phase of lust, and that I'm starting to enter a phase of anxiety about jobs and economic status. There was a card that indicated I was blazing my own path according to my own sense of reality and my own values. There were a few other good cards in there, but the only other one that I remember clearly was the last one - the "answer." In the end of all of this, I will achieve spirital fulfillment, contentment, and bliss. That's what awaits me. What's odd is that I had inquired specifically about the possibility of future romances. Not one card in the entire spread indicated it. Let's review. Selflessly giving to others, spiritual fulfillment, my own little world, no intimate relationships.

All signs point to "nun."

And all I could think about on the way home today, as I felt sorry for myself for losing some really good lust, for having no dates on the horizon, for feeling lonely and unemployed and looking at my 6th consecutive single birthday, was that spiritual contentment card and Bill Murray in Caddyshack: "So I've got that going for me, which is good."

And we swung our feet and talked about the crises in our friends' lives and then the locksmith came and charged an exorbinant amount of money. We proceeded to Fun Night. Dinner was perfect. Excellent chianti. Yummy pasta and garlic bread. Apple pie for dessert. Sprinkled among it all was just good conversation with good friends. Serious conversations but a lot more laughs and stories. An ex who is getting married (and for once, it wasn't mine.) Picking up and moving across the country for a fresh start. Remember when? An adorable black cat sprawled across a lap. Three single women all trying to rid themselves of a recent man, one single gay man, one straight man seriously dating someone, and a married man who was the same person that I remember when we hung out in college. And when I left, walking down the street with two friends to our cars , I said exactly how I felt.

"We're all gonna be ok."

Tuesday, September 28, 2004

You might be an old maid if...

your friend asked you what you wanted to do for your birthday, and you suddenly realized that this will be the 6th consecutive birthday that you will be single.

Courtesy and chivalry.

One thing that irks me about the city in which I'm living this fall is how much people are just shut down to what's going on around them and just involved in their own little world. I think it's typical of bigger cities, but it's more than just the 'city filter' here. For instance, when someone kicks your umbrella out of your hands, wouldn't it be nice if, instead of just brushing by with an apologetic look on their face, they picked it up for you?

This summer, I grew quite accustomed to men opening doors for women and allowing women to proceed first, stepping aside on the sidewalk for women to pass, etc. It didn't happen all the time, but it was commonplace. I liked it when Mr. Maybe walked on the outside of the sidewalk, closest to the street, or when he would usher me by first, with his hand at the small of my back. I'm sure most of the men in my life would bark about liberated women, open the door yourself, yadda yadda. I'm not saying I need a man to open my door for me. But I would like him to. I can manage the world on my own, thankyouverymuch. Sometimes, though, I'd prefer not to. We all want to be a princess sometimes. I do own a tiara.

As far as Mr. Maybe - well, we're back into the non-responsive stage. Haven't gotten a response from him recently. I did speak with him briefly on Saturday, but... sigh. I need to kick this habit. I need to retreat to the safe cocoon of singlehood and not-looking. Being lonely in an abstract sense is easier. I have plenty going on. Tonight I had dinner with friends. Tomorrow night, dinner with other friends. Saturday, BBQ. Sat night, friend from DC coming to Boston to visit. I should refocus on the gym, the Red Sox, and getting a job. After work, that should be enough to fill my days.

Monday, September 27, 2004

Well, clearly...

Stewart's fans more educated than O'Reilly's
At first I wasn't sure if we were talking about Martha Stewart or Jon Stewart. I'm delighted.

I want to move to Baltimore.

Not Guilty is moving there. I can't explain it, but I've had an obsession for Baltimore for a few years now. I've only been a few times, and there are many parts of the city I haven't seen, but I really want to live there. In my head, it's wonderful. I imagine that there's a really fun and laid back young population there, I know there are beautiful old rowhouses, the rent is cheap, and Camden Yards is awesome. And there is no doubt that the client population for public defenders is exactly what I'm looking for.

At least I've been to Baltimore. I also have a fetish for cities to which I've never been. Richmond is on its way out, Savannah and Raleigh-Durham-Chapel Hill are also cities for which I've previously had fetishes. Never been to any of those cities, though.

Today, I went to work for three hours. My day started at CVS, where I purchased cough drops and tissues. My bag was already packed with my heels, a roll of toilet paper (in lieu of kleenex), a Nalgene bottle, an empty coffee mug, a large notebook, and my lunch. No room for anything else. I took my cough drops and 8 tissue pocket packs and left the store. I had the receipt in one hand and my Kleenex in the other. I threw the receipt in the trash outside the store and when I got to the end of the block, I wondered why I was holding the receipt in my left hand and where my kleenex went? sure enough, I had thrown away the wrong items. Ugh. Luckily, the tissues were still shrink wrapped and landed on a pile of newspapers, so I plucked them out and substituted my receipt. I am on death's door, but went to work because the hearing on the motion to suppress for which I wrote the response was today. I got to sit at the big table in front of the judge. I left from court at the attorney's insistence. I wanted to go into work to let my supervisor know, but the attorney I was with insisted that I leave and told me that he'd tell my supervisor. I feel uncomfortable with that, but relented. I couldn't call my boss because I've lost my voice. So I emailed him from home. No response. Hmmm. Does he hate me?

Thursday, September 23, 2004

Washington Post is on a roll this week.

A Brotherhood of Fathers: Conference Aims to Educate and Connect Single Dads With Support: James Hall is learning what it takes to be a father.

The Ballou Senior High School student, who is 18, has been struggling to care for his year-old daughter, Ja'Mya Princess Hall. He missed the first couple of weeks of school because he could not find day care. He has been living with Ja'Mya at a friend's place in Maryland, and other than making some occasional money moving furniture, he doesn't have a job.

Wednesday, September 22, 2004

So much news today.

Nothing related to my personal life. I think I hit the lowest of low points today at work. I was so miserable. But the very end of the day was promising, keep your fingers crossed.

I don't blog from work so I emailed myself all of the following links to share:

I did an extensive note on this case - so when I read the first two paragraphs, I thought, "Hey, don't I know that guy?"
Md. Offers Parole Chance in Capital Case: A Maryland man whose death sentence was thrown out by the U.S. Supreme Court must decide within a week whether to accept a prosecution offer that would immediately make him eligible for parole, one of his attorneys said yesterday.

Kevin Wiggins, 43, has served 16 years in prison for the 1988 drowning of Florence Lacs, a 77-year-old widow, in a bathtub at her apartment west of Baltimore. The Supreme Court overturned his death sentence last year, saying his public defenders had failed him, but the court allowed his conviction to stand.

Virginia Youth Offenders Caught in Transition

Judge Removes Himself From Va. Sniper Case: The Fairfax County judge overseeing the second trial of John Allen Muhammad recused himself yesterday after he had been accused by prosecutors of conducting his own investigation into a claim by the convicted sniper's attorneys.
Report Criticizes the Way Md. Treats Troubled Youth
I keep seeing articles about this, and all I can think about is HOW BADLY these juveniles need to have a resource like the job that I had this summer. This would be perfect - they could create the position for me just as I'm graduating. God, I loved that job. Working with detained and committed youth was the best thing I ever did. I want to go back.

Slate article: Thou dost protest too much.

Cat Stevens is a terrorist threat. (Seriously. Of all the pop stars.... Cat Stevens?)

Op-ed on overzealous prosecution re: terrorism. and another article relating to that (charges dropped against one accused.) This is why the world needs defense attorneys!

Sunday, September 19, 2004

Start of the Season.

Throw on the favorite jeans and sweater, get your pennant and banners ready, stock the house with your favorite snacks and beverages. Settle in front of the screen because the Season of the Supreme Court is about to begin.

Season opens at home on October 4th with the Blakely v. Washington fallout cases. This is good for some of you because this means I'll stop with my selfish drivel and start discussing interesting things again. For those who couldn't care less that my favorite amendment is the Sixth Amendment, well, there will still be plenty of selfish drivel.

My internet is back up and running. Woohoo.

Saturday, September 18, 2004

And now what do I have?

My internet has been down, hence the lack of postings. I'm about to climb into bed. I've had a typical work week. I've been out just about every night this week. Last night, I went on a date. It was fine, but I don't have much interest in seeing this individual again, in a 'dating' situation anyway. He emailed me and asked if he could see me again. I have to respond.

I've exchanged several emails with Mr. Maybe today, told him about my date. He also has a date this evening. Hearing that made me want to cry and throw up. I cried. Not for any good reason - I was just jealous and sad. My friends were all out and about when I got home from work today, so I went to a sports bar by myself. Met a construction company. Chatted with one individual in particular (by virtue of the fact that he was sitting directly next to me), who seems like a fun guy to drink with, but not sure that I'd ever trust him with any more than that. We exchanged phone numbers. He called to let me know where he was going later that night. Now I feel bad. I finally met a friend of a friend with whom I had exchanged several emails. I liked him a lot. thought I had him at the end of the night, but here I am typing my blog entry. So. Clearly not. All in all, it's been a great evening. Now it's time for bed.

Sunday, September 12, 2004

The Great Gay Matchmaker.

That should be my new official title. If this whole law thing doesn't work out, I can always fall back on setting up all of the gay men in my life with each other.

I had been invited to attend a birthday party for a friend from high school. He's very gay. I was well aware of the fact that I'd be the token 1. straight person and 2. female at the party, so I wasn't particularly excited about it at first. I hadn't seen this friend in a while, and I definitely wanted to see him, but it's difficult to maximize my own social needs in a house full of gay men. I decided to go for several other reasons: first, I have a recently out friend who I wanted to introduce to other area gay men; second, I have another friend who really wanted to go but didn't want to go alone; third, an old acquaintance from high school who I haven't seen since then was going to be there, and fourth - it's not like I had any other plans. It turned out to be a nice evening, despite the fact that three of my friends all independently stated at some point in the night that my boobs looked great (gay men?) and that I was going to serve as a surrogate mother for them later in life. But I did my part and made my introductions. My newly gay friend is sufficiently connected to a gay social/support network and despite the fact that he rarely enjoys large and foreign social situations, he did very well for himself.

It looks like I will be going on a blind date this week. I have to call him and set up plans. He had recommended maybe getting together this weekend but I just had too many things to do. And I've actually yet to accomplish more than one or two of them, so it's not looking like my week will be much better either. If I call him, it means mustering up the energy to figure out some conversation topics in advance and to sound fun and vivacious for the duration of the phone call. I'm too focused on my own tasks right now, and besides, the best part of a date is just knowing that someone is interested in you. It's all downhill from there, isn't it? I'm in no rush.

I got an email from one public defender letting me know that they're waiving the first round of interviews for me and sending me directly to the final round. Eeek. I have to get a writing sample together for this public defender, I have to get the rest of my applications together for two other public defenders who have asked for it, and I still have to finish getting my initial application out for a whole bunch of other public defenders and fellowships. Ugh, it's so tedious. I don't want to spend my precious weekend time on these things.

The best part of my day during the week is the young man who works at the hardware store that I pass on my way to the train. He caught my eye at first because he resembles Mr. Maybe. Not generally the "type" that I am immediately attracted to, but because he resembles someone that I am incredibly attracted to, he gets a second look. I see him putting the displays out in front of the store every morning, and closing up the store on my way home in the evening. It's the highlight of my day. He's rugged, blue-collar, a little gruff. I can't figure out how old he is though. He could be far too young, for all I know.

Well, I suppose it's time to start tackling some tasks for the day.

Thursday, September 09, 2004

I'm still here.

I've had an ok week. One more dream about my teeth falling out. It was different this time though, all but 2 fell out and they fell out in groups. I've been going to the gym regularly, which is good. My internship is not any more interesting than it was last week.

Things to be happy about when I stop being needlessly distracted by the past: I heard responses from two places to which sent my resume. First, I'm going back for a big round of interviews with my summer agency. Second, I'm sending along the rest of my application for another agency, who requested it. Sweet. Tonight, I am shooting off some quick emails to the ones that I haven't heard from yet. (Question - huge faux pas to email to confirm receipt and ask when I should expect to hear? Should I call instead? At least one of the places said no phone calls, so I didn't have much choice).

Things to start thinking about when I stop being needlessly distracted by the past: I've received some friendly interest from at least one individual of the opposite sex.

Things about the past that are PARTICULARLY needlessly distracting: Mr. Maybe. I miss his dark complexion, his very toned body, I miss gazing at the tattoo on his arm and across his back. I miss just feeling comfortable around him.

Things I realized today on the commute home: I didn't know Mr. Maybe well at all.

But you know, that's ok too.

Monday, September 06, 2004

On nights like tonight, after talking to Mr. Maybe for several days; after returning to friends and the comfort of home for a long weekend; when there is no one that understands on the other end of the phone, the residual loneliness of a dark room that doesn't feel like home is too gaping and too hollow and too much, and the tears left on my pillow don't do much to fill it.

It takes so much energy to keep restarting. I'm so fortunate to have connections and experiences in so many areas, but damn, it's hard. It takes so much backbreaking work to delve into the hard, rocky ground of a new place with just my little shovel. It takes a lot of muster to pour a foundation, to start feeling solid about new work and new people. And then the frame goes up, and the work starts to pay off. Then the roof, the walls, and next thing you know, you're ready to place the last picture frame on the last wall. And just as soon as it feels like a really good start of a really good thing, it's time to pick up and start all over again, hunched over a new unforgiving plot of land, muscles a little more sore, shovel a little less sharp and shiny.

Sunday, September 05, 2004

I really love orange, too.

Painting Over It.

Thank you for articulating exactly how I feel.

Friday, September 03, 2004

Week in Review.

Work: I have my own intern office at work. It's a decent size, but it has no window. It has a monitor on the desk, and a keyboard on the floor. No tower. Thus, I've spent the entire week in what I call the "computer dungeon" - the computer training room five floors below that NO ONE USES except me. It's cold and lonely. This week hasn't been great. I have tons of questions about how a case is developed for trial - and no answers. Yet. But I think by the end of the semester, when my questions are answered, I will be one badass litigator. I hope. Until then, my experience as a prosecutor is merely an extension of my worst nightmare - a semester full of "legal writing" and "research."

Love: Ups and downs. Nothing here in FallTown, at all. Mr. Maybe has been wonderful [long distance] company this week. Had a wonderful and lengthy conversation last night, which just made me so much more sad when I got off the phone with him. He misses me and doesn't want to wait 8 more weeks for me to return to SummerTown. So, after some time and consideration, I say, sure. I'll visit you this month instead of waiting. Then I saw the new 20 yr old that he added to his Friendster circle yesterday. I am willing to bet, right now, that's the girl he'll marry someday. Despite the fact that she's TWENTY right now, if I had to base it solely by profile alone, I'd say she's the perfect gal for him. On the other hand, judging him on his profile alone, I was completely uninterested in him. Funny how these things work.

Life: People in FallTown are just rude. No one holds the door for me, whether letting me go first or letting me go behind them. Got in a fight with two people at the post office. Middle aged man driving a CASKET DELIVERY TRUCK leered out the window to me as I was crossing the street on my way home today, "How does that ice cream taste, baby?" which caught me off guard not because of the leering, but because of the absence of anything more insulting than that, which I'm accustomed to from SummerTown. I ignored him.

Things that make life worth living: Got rave reviews from summer boss that indicate a potential for a BIG interview for full-time job with summer agency. After fighting with the post office, getting leered at by someone who drives dead people's storage items around, and feeling completely and 100% inadequate versus the new Friendster hussy of Mr. Maybe's, I sat on the porch with friends, vented, drank lots of beer. Then walked to the grocery store to buy more beer feeling reeeeeeally good and, oddly, bought a Red Sox helium balloon that I decided to treat like a pet to walk home and use as a mascot back in LawSchoolTown this weekend. (who DOES that?) Talked to Mr. Maybe and let him know I sent him an email (which addresses Friendster hussy issue, not too subtley.) He doesn't know what the message is about which makes me feel bad. Because he said he's looking forward to it. Watched Red Sox game with aforementioned friends, ordered Chinese food, drank lots of beer. Red Sox won, Chinese food feels like a rock in my stomach, and I'm going to bed.

Love and hugs.