Wednesday, August 31, 2005

freaking out, because this is what I do.

I was supposed to learn no later than today what my start date and office assignments were. Well, of course, this information has not come. A phone call to the hiring coordinator and an email to the attorney listed as a contact showed that they are both currently on vacation.

Which can only mean one thing.

They never got my acceptance, and thus I'm unemployed again.

Ok, it doesn't necessarily mean that, but I'm convinced, and there's no convincing me otherwise.


Tuesday, August 30, 2005

another addition to the garbage heap

Mr. STF - remember him? My short whirlwind romance from last summer, that
dragged on over the year with cryptic and dirty emails, text messaging,
and then the brief but very pleasant encounter this past May? Well, we
continue to communicate, which I enjoy, except now? He has a girlfriend.
This has not quite stopped him from emailing me, which I'm thankful for,
but was it really necessary that he continue to make reference to our
naked time together? Really? Was that necessary? I'm still recovering
from the shame of making out with a 22 yr old brother of a friend. I'm
fragile. Please, no naked references. Not from you, Mr. STF. This
madness must end somewhere.


I've been watching the hurricane coverage for days now. I wasn't particularly interested until I found out that it wasn't going to hit New Orleans as much as it was going to hit Biloxi and Gulfport. I haven't been able to stop watching. This morning, without looking, I took a coffee mug down from the shelf that says "Biloxi Beach," where I lived for several years. I remember being fascinated by the history and beauty of Beauvoir; I remember the houses that lined the same street as Beauvoir - the old Southern mansions that are separated from the ocean by nothing more than 4 lanes of traffic. I remember the large pillars, and the house that had a huge palm tree growing right in the middle of the steps to the front door. I remember the playground where I had my first kiss, which was later graced by our initials written with one of those select-a-color pens. I remember my first two boyfriends. I remember all the drills we went through in school - there was a bell system for each one. A hurricane drill, tornado drill, train derailment drill, and I think the 4th was some sort of nuclear annihilation drill. I remember having to go to a hurricane shelter once. I remember preparing for all the tropical storms and even a tornado warning. I remember our neighbors and the other residents who always insisted that hurricanes were not going to be that bad, who never sought shelter, who were determined to remain in their homes. I remember that it never really was that bad. Some broken windows, some strewn debris.

I think about my old house, and the history of Beauvoir, and that palm tree bursting through the stairs of that mansion, and that playground with my initials, and I wonder how much of it is still standing.

Monday, August 29, 2005

Jack Balkin: Alive and Kicking: Why no one truly believes in a dead Constitution.

But there's a more important problem here: Non-originalist decisions that guarantee race and sex equality, that protect free speech and the rights of criminal defendants, and that give Congress power to protect the environment and secure equal civil rights are not unfortunate errors that we are just stuck with because of "reliance." They are some of our country's proudest achievements. There's something deeply wrong with a theory of constitutional interpretation that treats some of the key civil rights decisions of the 20th century as mistakes that we are stuck with. For if decisions like Brown, Loving, Craig v. Boren, and Griswold v. Connecticut are mistakes, we should read them as narrowly as possible and overturn them at the first opportunity. But that's not how Americans regard these decisions. They are evidence of our gradual progress as a nation. They are what make us a country conceived in liberty and dedicated to the proposition that all people are created equal.

the garbage heap that is my love life

I had a full 48 hours of drinking scheduled for the weekend; but after the first 7 hours, I was pretty much done for.

Friday night was a friend's going away party. I got dolled up and was definitely ready for a night on the town. I acessorized. There was makeup involved. And the sexy little black top was paired with jeans and some "I'm going to hate myself in the morning" shoes. I hadn't seen these friends in almost 8 months, and I was ready to make up for some lost time.

It was a lengthy trip to the bar via public transportation. For most of the walk and most of the ride, my eyes were locked with those of The Twin. He converses in a manner that makes you believe that you are the most fascinating and engaging person in the room. And he greeted me with a hug and a kiss. He is so very crush-worthy. Trust that I have crushed. It was a very pleasant way to start the evening.

We got to the bar a little after 7 pm. The party was kickin.' Hours of socialization ensue. One friend, whom I haven't spent significant time with in many years, appeared. We were so delighted that we embraced, we squealed, we kissed, we giggled, we hugged again, I nibbled his neck, he asked for more, and I told him we could make out later. He said, "WOTL, it's so great to see you again, and I like my handjobs nice and tight." I laughed my ass off. He then introduced me to his younger brother, who I met once when he was significantly shorter and a little nerdier. Now he's a senior in college, about 6'2", just getting back from 9 months in Australia, and is about 110 pounds.

I spent a lot of the beginning of the night drinking beer and catching up with a nother friend, not in the group of friends assembled, who then led me down the dangerous path of tequila shots. By the time we left the first bar, I: was $80 lighter, despite the fact I had purchased only half my drinks; was drunk almost to the point of blindness; had an extended cell phone conversation with the father of friend & little bro (who I do not know), during which the father told me that Little Bro was a really cool kid, I should hook up with him, and that Little Bro could definitely use a night with me; I informed Little Bro of this and Little Bro vowed never to speak to his father again; I engaged in relationship counseling with The Twin while secretly willing him to leave his girlfriend for me; I made friends with the boyfriend of a friend of a friend, who was later dumped by friend of a friend; continued to flirt with The Twin; had several friendly, "You Poor Thing You Don't Really Know Anyone" conversations with the Little Bro, who turned out to be pretty cool, and then stumbled to several more bars, the names and locations of which I have absolutely NO recollection.

From there, I lost an earring and a shoe; insisted that the Birthday Girl of the party walking behind me DID NOT LOOK 40 AT ALL (she didn't); broke up a fight because I am a public defender and I somehow, after 18 tequila shots, thought these two things were relevant factors to each other; then after saving that fight/marriage the wedding party was actually affirmatively insulting to me, so I screamed at the top of my lungs how much I hate Australians (I think they were. Maybe they were Scottish or something. Dunno.) and will never go there. So some other guy on the street found this to be a good time to come over and comfort me, which he did, and then Little Bro kindly steered me away from that. Then there were a few more bars, and me going back and forth between flirting with The Twin and flirting with the Little Bro. I vaulted a gate to catch the train, and on the way back home, as I was holding hands with the Little Bro, I leaned against a wall, pulled him to me, and kissed him.

After pizza, we finally found our way home. A few of us remained outside on the steps, talking under the stars. The conversations were of the deep and meaningful kind that only happen after a crazy night of partying, while still drunk, and in the stillness of the dead of the night. I said my goodnights and announced I was going up to bed. Little Bro stood up and said, "I'm going with you." Apparently, I was the only one who understood that this meant that we'd be sharing a bed - everyone else thought his intention was merely to retire for the night. I, on the other hand, knew differently, and thought that it was pretty hot that he announced it so smoothly, quietly, and confidently.

So that happened... but I'm not dirty enough to go all THAT far with a 22 year old kid that happens to be my friend's little brother. He is a cool kid, and cute, and it was nice to sleep in the arms of a guy. Even if he was born in 1983. *cringe*

The next day, I was exhausted and had a sour stomach all day, which led me to eat a large plate of diner food in the morning and not much for the rest of the day. After drinking lots of Coke at the BBQ, I finally just drank a few beers and voila! Hangover cured. How disturbing. Later that night, more drinks at another party ensued, and I was still exhausted but trying to remain standing. Little bro and I flirted, touched, insinuated... but by the end of the night, I realized he was doing the same with another girl, who happens to be cute, blonde, and the roommate of my friend/Little Bro's brother. And this is how it went. I slept alone, and he went home with her. NO FUCKING JOKE.

So if I had any dignity remaining by Saturday morning after making out with Little Bro, that shred was eviscerated when I was then bounced for another woman. It's not necessarily an ego hit that we didn't make out again - it was an ego hit that everyone KNEW we had the night before, and then he was mackin' on some other chick. And trust me when I say, he's not nearly that smooth. So I danced with one guy who told me he had been watching me all night, which was fine until he sat down and wanted me to give him a lap dance in the middle of the bar and kept trying to put his face in my bosom; another guy came over to dance with my female friend and I, and when she asked (not so nicely) "Do I know you?" he patted her on the back, kissed my shoulder (kissed my shoulder? WTF?), and left.

During all of this, another guy with whom I've been friends for, oh, 6 years now? kept grabbing my rear end, asking me to grab his, kissing me, trying to convince me that we should hook up, etc etc.

Long before everyone else was ready to call it quits, I looked around and realized that everyone else was really, genuinely having a good time, and I was most definitely not. About an hour and a half later, I finally decided to make my way home by myself. It's best to cut one's losses at that point. No more ass-grabbing, bosom-burying, barely adolescent men for me.

While there were some casualties of the weekend (like my lost / broken jewelry, dignity) it was overall a great time with friends. It also made me wonder how and where in the world I'll ever find a man worth dating.

P.S. Can someone teach me how to cut text behind a link in an entry? You know, where I can put in a 'continue reading' link so my entries don't always take up an entire page?

Thursday, August 25, 2005

dial-up internet and a non-compliant mouse has caused me to miss all things related to news.  Dahlia also had a great article on John Roberts here

Constitution: Dead or Alive?

I love it when legal arguments have me humming Bon Jovi. And Kiefer was a total hottie in young guns 2. Dahlia, my favoritest ever, is doing a series on why, or whether, the Living Constitution idea is dead, and invited reader input. Some interesting thoughts being bantered about. Definitely check it out here and here.

Tuesday, August 23, 2005

The Woman, She is Officially Employed.

And the world rejoiced.

today was a good day

I am as tan as I have ever been. I believe the words to describe me are "bronze goddess." Those are the words I use, anyway.

I FINALLY found a Tim Wakefield t-shirt, so now I can end the "I refuse to by any Red Sox t-shirt until I buy a Tim Wakefield shirt" strike. No joke, I owned ZERO Sox tees for that reason. (Well, ok, I had one long-sleeve World Champions shirt. But it was a gift, and I love it.)

I joined a gym for their 30 day free trial. Perhaps I will soon feel less squishy.

Not so good, actually annoying but now amusing? The optical mouse attached to my mother's computer has decided that it only works in alternate five minute intervals, which has certainly hindered my websurfing time. I just discovered that picking the mouse up about 8 inches from the mousepad and dropping it several times helps it work again. How fun.

Need reading and listening recommendations. Apparently NONE of the drug stores around here carry the Economist, which is like crack to me. I just finished "Sammy's Hill" and "Angels and Demons." Both excellent beach books. There are several pages in Angels and Demons that make me believe it could be a religion, and would be a religion I enjoyed. The new Scientology! Move over, L. Ron Hubbard. When I get a better mouse and better internet, I'll search inside the book and pull out the excerpts that struck me in more of a spiritual manner, rather than a sunshine and cocoa butter manner.

Monday, August 22, 2005

breathe in, breathe out

Step 1: Notify sponsor of intent to withdraw fellowship app.

That's what I did today. And then hours later, I received the bittersweet response, regarding the missed opportunity for such an innovative project and a missed opportunity to bring me to their office. The sentiment was appreciated, but of course, it upset me like I knew it would, and I've spent a good part of the afternoon wallowing on the couch with the depressing music on my iPod. I nurtured this, I brought it to life. Then I abandoned it. I feel guilty, like I abandoned the attorneys and the clients. I need a moment to mourn the loss of this very specific dream, and to shake off some of this guilt.

Step 2: Notify funding agency of withdrawal.

Check. Hopefully their response will not inspire the same reaction.

But for the past few weeks, I've slowly been prepping. I've steeled myself to make this decision. Making a decision either way was going to result in a loss in some form, so neither option was easier to accept than the other.

Now I have to go accept the other position. As my mother pointed out, it's generally wiser to accept one before withdrawing from the other. But part of me hoped that they could offer me something at the last minute, some sort of guaranteed employment, that would allow me to continue to pursue the withdrawn project. Something, anything, to make this decision easier. It didn't happen. But hey, life is full of difficult decisions. And I've made mine. I'm paralyzed with terror that I could have made the wrong decision - again, I think either decision would have left me feeling that way. But the decision has been made, and now I have to go forward accepting that either decision could also be the right one. It's time to look at why I'm the luckiest SOB for having a choice at all between two dream jobs.

Well hell. I'm going to be a public defender! It's about time. I have to get that acceptance letter out ASAP...

Friday, August 19, 2005

to the batcave!

I threw out my batsignal yesterday. After days of avoiding friends' phone calls and emails, I sent out a mass email, my batsignal. I told them about the job offer I received. I told them I was going to take it, except that I had some hesitation. I laid out my choices and told them why I was going to make this choice, and why I was hesitant. And I begged. What should I do?

And they all responded. It wasn't the answers to the questions I posed that really got to me. It was the feedback and the thoughtful responses, not the answers, that just leveled me. Seriously, they are the most incredible group of people ever assembled. These responses have singlehandedly shot my confidence in accepting this job from 80% up to 94%.

I use this blog to write about me, and to avoid problems in my personal life, I avoid writing about my friends. And it's a crying shame, because they are such incredible people. I think I'm going to have to lift the ban on writing about others. It's going to take tricky filtering, to make sure that the only stuff that gets on here is stuff that I'm 100% sure will not reveal or bother the people about whom I write; nevertheless, it has to be done. These people are too wonderful not to share with the world.

Thursday, August 18, 2005

on music: a confession

I am whatever the exact opposite pole of "music snob" is. If I know what's hot, it's from my 18 year old sister. I only own a handful of CDs, and generally don't listen to much more than what is on the radio or what I overhear someone else playing. (Luckily I hang out with people who have their finger on the pulse of cool music).

Thus, my iPod dilemma. Having an iPod is only as good as your music selection. I never, ever bought music, although loved the mp3 craze. Imagine how terrible my iPod is. I have an Ace of Base CD, the soundtrack to Aladdin, an old Janet Jackson -these are all from when I was in junior high. And still they remain in my CD holder. If any guy ever tried to draw conclusions about me from my CD collection, he'd probably conclude that I'm a fantastic freak, and he'd be right. Anyway... my iPod shit the bed, so I lost all the great music I had bought or snarked from other people and now have to redo it all. All (12 of) my CDs are in storage now, so I'm at the mercy of other people's CD collections at this point.

I can't figure out which is more amusing - the fact that my dad has 3 Guns N Roses CDs, or the fact that I just uploaded all of them.

P.S. I watched the "Wild N Out" episode with Kanye - loved it. Then, right after that, it was supposed to be Pimp My Ride, which I also love, but it was an interview of Kanye by my very fave MTV personality Sway.


calls for an end to gay bashing
I've never seen the show, but there is some show on MTV tonight that is going to have rappers heckling Kanye. One asks him to make a song without a sample, and my ears perked up. Yes! Please! So I'm going to watch it tonight. I do adore Kanye.

more about what's next

We were frightened of being left alone for the rest of our lives. Only people of a certain disposition are frightened of being alone for the rest of their lives at the age of 26, and we were of that disposition. - High Fidelity

I promised another part to this entry, on Friends. I wrote an entry, but I'm not going to post it. It's a little too personal, and I really try to keep this blog generic. Besides, I'm trying to remain anonymous, and it's become ridiculous trying to blog about these things while cloaking my whereabouts.

Generally speaking, though, as I'm trying to make a decision about where I go next, I've been considering where my communities are. I want to find a community in which I can continue to grow as a person. I'm not ready to stop figuring things out. I'm not ready to stop stumbling over challenges or insecurities. I'm not ready to stop reaching out and slowly examining the edges of what's comfortable to me. On the other hand, I'm ready to stop making big mistakes. I'm ready to stop doing things for the purposes of status, or because I think such status is expected of me. I'm ready to stop doing things because everyone else is. I'm ready to accept that a lot of the things I need to lead a happy life are things I already have.

In my home community, I have a lot of friends from high school with whom I'm still close, and I still love dearly. But it's no longer my community. I'm not ready to join it. They're married, they own houses, they have jobs, they have kids. The other night, I saw two of my closest girlfriends from high school. As we walked through a store, one mentioned that she and her husband have talked about having kids, and that maybe in the next year, they were going to start trying. She had some concerns about how that will impact the type of life that she and her husband want to lead, and that concern remains unresolved. She said exasperated, "But I mean, I want to have kids before I'm 30!"


I love coming home and visiting, and catching up, and I love love love love the kiddos. The two kiddos who have sprung forth from the loins of my pal since 7th grade are the cutest darn kids ever, and I had several pictures of them that I had posted during my bar studying. BarBri recommends putting a picture of someone who is really super smart and failed the bar, or a picture of someone who is really dumb that passed. I think that cutting pictures out of the facebook of people I don't know but only hear about in law school lore is fucking crazy. But putting pictures of the two most wonderful tykes in the whole world on my desk reminded me that there are so many wonderful, amazing, heart-filling things out there in the world, and none of them have anything to do with whether or not I know what a Totten trust is. It reminded me that there was just one other thing in all of my life that I wanted to do besides be a public defender. I want to raise a family.

But I'm not there yet, and I don't know when I will be. Kids by the age of 30 is definitely not happening for me, although I thought it would. Now I'm just hoping for marriage by 34, kids by 37. Right now those are my set limits. But when I hit 34 and I'm still not married, I'm sure they will go up again.

So I have to go where I think I will meet people I like. I want to go somewhere I think I could stay for a while. Unfortunately, the remaining two cities of the three cities I'm considering each embody one of these. There's one city that I think will be a place I'd stay. Stay, and not leave. What a novel idea. There's another city where my law school friends will be, and those are the people in my life who right now are the people most suited to being my community. Most of my friends are single, a few are cohabitating with their significant others, and all of them are starting their career right now. I think they're the greatest group of people ever assembled in one place, and why the hell would I leave that now? And while I don't see myself living there forever, it would be silly to think that being in a place where I would not be happy or feel comfortable would lead me on the path to a pleasant future, just because it looks like what I want my future to look like.

And of course, that deep rooted, skittish fear that I will never get married rears its ugly head, and fuck. Is there any wonder? I'm a raging freak and clearly am in need of a Prozac drip.

Tuesday, August 16, 2005

The Washington Post on choosing an administrator for the DC jail.

Monday, August 15, 2005

MD closes secure youth facility due to abhorrent conditions. Solution? Ship them to Idaho. Ugh. Such a freakin' DISASTER.


1. Porn with the significant other - Do or Don't? Different from the ones already stashed in your closet? How does one implement such a plan?

2. I found out today that a good friend, who happens to be an old ex, lies to his girlfriend when he hangs out with me. Discuss.

3. Sitemeter's slogan: doing what we can to assist internet stalkers, one longitudinal degree at a time.

I think I'm in love.

I had to rent a truck today to move a mattress from one temporary storage area to another. I got a Dodge Ram 1500 Quad Cab SLT. I've always wanted a truck, a beat up white Chevy in which I could ramble down country roads in the summer with the windows open and the radio blaring. But my oh my, this truck stole my heart. I believe it is the largest truck on four wheels, and I did 80 on the highway and weaved in and out of traffic in the big city, no problem. I slowed down once I had the mattress perilously strapped into the back, but now that the mattress is unloaded, I have some driving to do. After all, I have my love until tomorrow at 11 a.m.


Saturday, August 13, 2005

home sweet home

I am house-sitting this week for two houses, one of which includes a hot tub and pool. SWEET. I am big pimpin.' Which is to say, totally lame. I will swim when and if I can find my bathing suit (it seems I lost it between here and Lake Michigan) and will spend the rest of the time watching DVDs, baseball, and drinking coffee/beer/wine while eating the awesome food stocked in someone else's fridge. This is the life, my friends.

In the 36 hours I've been home, I've:
- gone to the mall TWICE
- gone grocery shopping with Mom (it doesn't get any more fun with age)
- received an offer from my younger brother to be set up with a guy he described as "definitely not your type"
- been subjected to what I thought was a party, so I brought my kickass artichoke & spinach dip, but ended up being a guy's night, so I was then subjected to watching a poker game and a few porn flicks
- received the requisite, "Do you have a job? A boyfriend? When was the last time you got laid?" questions (The answers are no, no, and way too long ago)
Blonde Justice linked to a really good post about a late-night lineup.
The last two weeks have been rough. In one 10-day period, I took the bar, packed and moved out of the house I’ve lived in for two years, moved all of my worldly belongings into a storage unit, had a job opportunity suddenly and without warning nearly disappear, then reappear again, had my car vandalized, moved back in with my mother, and flew to a wedding and vacation, and reluctantly returned.

Where to begin?

Let’s just go by topic.

The Job

Next: The Friends

I've lost that lovin' feeling.

First, the job. Or the lack thereof. I don’t even know how to begin to explain what has happened with the job search. To refresh: there are two job opportunities I’m currently pursuing. One is a job that I’m creating; the other is a job I was assured I’d get. The Friday after the bar, while I was moving out of my house and about to leave the town I’ve called home for the past three years, I received news that there was a possibility that there were fundamental differences of opinion about the job I was working to create. This was quite unexpected, and if any shred of my sanity was intact at that point, it was thereafter razed. I did not respond to this news, but instead took a few deep breaths, and only a few moments later I was on the phone to the job I was assured I would get. I left a message, inquiring as to when I should expect to hear from them officially, since I was long ago assured an offer? Since that time, I’ve lost any feelings I’ve had about each job. I’m no longer capable of feeling attached to the job I created, nor am I able to feel excited or happy about either job opportunity. My senses have been dulled by what has now been a year-long process, and that Friday was the last shred of my own sense of self in this process. Since that time, I have only been capable of looking at this all with a cold feeling of economics and the muted desire to escape this reeling madness.

And then, out of the blue, a third opportunity reappeared. This organization has sought me out three times now for a job. And every time, I assure them I’m still very interested. And then I follow up, and my contacts go unreturned. And then months later, I hear from them again, same inquiry, same reassurance from me, and same silence from them. When I heard they had offered my friend a job, a job I wanted so very badly and a job I knew he would not take, it made me ill. So this time, yet again, I assure them I’m interested, but this time it is without feeling. I don’t care. I don’t care if they hire me tomorrow or if I never speak to them again. For now, I will neither be happy nor disappointed.

The job to be created was restored back to its original level of uncertainty, and I still have yet to hear back from the other job. I will follow up again, but I sense the answer cannot be good. Some moments, I care very little about what result that follow-up phone call will bring – any result is result enough. Other moments, I frantically cling to the hope that this madness was not all in my head; that when they said I would have the job, they weren’t lying. Because if that wisp of certainty were to fade away, I would really and truly be homeless and unemployed.

I’m not taking time off now because I don’t know what I want to do, or because I need to do some soul-searching. I’m so proud of what I’ve done. There is no doubt in my mind that law school was the right choice, and that the law school I chose was perfect. I have not one regret about my three years, and I wouldn’t do anything differently. I’ve worked hard and learned a lot. I know what I want to do; I’d go almost anywhere to be able to do it. I’ve put all my effort into being able to do it. I know that public sector work can take a little while. I’ve worked long and hard and in return, have asked for nothing more than a job that I will love.

And for all that work, I have nothing to show. For all of my effort, and my education, and my debt, I’m starting to fear that this is what failure looks like. That fear is what paralyzes me and it inhibits my ability to interact with anyone. The moments when That Fear creeps up into my gut also wraps a tight fist around my heart, makes my eyes sting, my stomach shrink, and my head fill with a throbbing pain. At those moments, which arrive at any time, in any place, and with no warning, I know that my face changes, and the curtain of confidence drops, revealing a sullen or scowling look. I feel the angry tears come to my eyes but know that those tears won’t drop – I know that they stay, pooled and burning, in my eyes.

Several times a day for the past few months, and especially in the past few weeks, I’ve had to field questions about what the future holds for me. Every time the question is asked of me, I get the same feeling as when I see the check engine light come on. I get tense, and anxious, and I’m afraid that my world will come crashing down around my ears, and please oh please sweet Lord, I’m not asking for much, not even A/C or power locks or a radio that can scan both up and down the channels, but just get me to where I need to be next. Please, just get me there, or at least to a gas station or a place with cell phone reception.

I want other people to know that I believe in what I’m doing and that I’ve foregone other opportunities because I believe so strongly in what I’m doing. Except it gets harder and harder to put on a tired smile and explain, yet again, that I don’t know what I’m doing. I’m hardly in a position to convince someone else if I am no longer convinced myself. No, I don’t know where I’m going. Where I’m moving. What I’ll be doing next. Yeah, I took that state’s bar. I don’t know exactly what that means for my job process, but I do know that these other states will hire me if I’m barred in that state. I don’t know where I’d rather be. Let’s talk about you now.

The day that I left LawSchoolTown was one of the worst. My departure had been delayed by several days because of the aforementioned Friday News, and the necessary work that went into restoring that opportunity to its original level of uncertainty. As my last ounce of energy had been sapped by the Friday News, it took an extraordinary amount of borrowed energy to diligently work things out in the subsequent days. I had to forego a day trip on my way back home, to a destination that I had so desperately wanted to see, and know that I will not have the opportunity to see again. Then, on Wednesday morning, I went to my car and found the words “FUCK U” carved into my trunk in large letters. At first, I didn’t care; I was more concerned about the more vulgar language on my friend’s car, and how he would react. I was afraid that he’d be much more upset. Since I’d had a dream that my car had been broken into and all my belongings stolen the night before, I was just relieved that my car was intact.

But as I embarked upon my several hour drive, my misery deepened. I was leaving my town and my community on an anticlimactic note, to say the least. I had to whittle the importance of my life to three suitcases. I was heading towards an uncertain future that, for the immediate present, is an indefinite stay at my mother’s house. I have an extreme amount of debt that I cannot even begin to repay, despite the monthly loan bills that have come due. My check engine light came on every 15 minutes for many, many hours. And to top it all off, I was driving around with vulgar, billboard sized words carved into my car. I can’t afford to get it fixed because I’m broke and homeless. I’m broke and homeless because, more than anything in the world, I feel compelled to tirelessly advocate on behalf of the assholes who decided to senselessly vandalize my car.

And then my landlord informed me I wasn’t getting my deposit back because the new tenants whined that the ceilings were dirty.

And they wouldn’t let me on the plane because they informed me that I had been on the previous plane to that destination, and despite the fact that I missed my connection because this airline is utterly incompetent and eternally late, apparently I had managed to both get on the previous plane and miss it.

And then they lost my luggage.

Those angry tears sprung to my eyes again. I want someone to acknowledge that this is an inhuman amount of stress. I took the bar and moved, all while juggling job bullshit, I have no place to live and no money, my car is a total piece of shit that I cannot afford to fix or replace, and now I’m driving around with the words “FUCK U” on it. The bar exam itself is enough to drive one person mad – and yet, the bar exam was the least stressful event of the past few weeks, if that’s any indication of how horrid my life is. I do not want pity or coddling. I want someone to see not weakness but strength in my angry burning tears. I want someone to acknowledge that my dedication to this population of clients is so strong that I have given absolutely everything, and have accepted every conceivable burden, and that what I’ve done is incredibly, incredibly difficult – much more difficult than any comparable pursuit of employment. I honestly, truly, plainly, and sincerely have absolutely nothing more to give. Maybe the vandalism on my car really does express my sentiments. Fuck you too.

Tuesday, August 02, 2005

to blog or not to blog?

I just graduated from law school. I loved it. I had great friends, a really good educational experience, and discovered a passion for public defender work. As a result, I'm now really fucking broke and unemployed.

Well folks, I'll be transient indefinitely, and I'm unsure what my internet access will be. I love to blog, but it's clear I've had nothing to say for at least a few months now anyway. So, there's a chance you won't be hearing from me for a while. There's also a chance that I'll be posting hourly out of pure boredom. Just wanted to say, Woman of the Law is still here, although wishing she were "Woman of a Different Career Field" right now (is it too late to be a teacher?) and the headline, "I ain't passed the bar" still holds true. Here's to moving back in with your parents. God help us.