fat tuesday

i was half-tempted just to repost some of my love letters to south louisiana today. mardi gras always makes me miss my gulf-coast homelands. it's the biggest example of why the gulf south, in all its glory and splendor, is so special and important to the character of this nation. it's also radically and vitally different from the non-gulf south, a difference that should be kept in mind at all times. mobile is NOT selma; new orleans is NOT memphis. anywhere the gulf of mexico touches in this country is just... not quite the same.

gulf coast kids have a different way of looking at the world. chris rose got it just so, so right with his world-class introduction to louisiana, and it applies in varying degrees to the rest of the gulf, too. we appreciate our food, our culture, our surroundings. we love life, we drink it in no matter what. we raise our glasses (probably a touch too often) to good and bad. we know that jimmy buffett is smarter than he even realized when he told us, if we couldn't laugh, then we would go insane. changes in latitudes always bring a change in my attitude. in other words, you can tell when i've been home; i come back a little bit more free than i was when i left.

so on this mardi gras day, i celebrate my gulf coast heritage. i got to the home of mardi gras (founded in mobile, alabama, in 1703, a solid century before new orleans!) by accident, by chance, and it's the greatest bit of serendipity imaginable. my gulf coast home gave me so much: friends, culture, azaleas and magnolias (!), crawfish and pralines... and the great love of my life.

laissez les bons temps rouler, chers. ain't no doubt, bebe.

toy mogul

my mother's nickname for the man, coined when we were kids, was "the toy mogul." she came up with this after one night at my house. his mom drove him over to eat spaghetti and hang out, things that were a lot less fun to do once everyone got cars and driver's licenses. he had some kind of tech toy with him, i can't remember what at this point. 'course, this was the mid-1990s, long before it was commonplace to have a bag in which you carry a computer, an e-book reader, a smartphone and a music player. (or maybe that's just me.) my mother was amused, just tickled to no end, by the man's deep love for all things technological.

the next day, she said to me, you know, i'm glad you got to be friends with that toy mogul.
[eye-roll] mother, whatever do you mean by that?
that kid is brilliant, and he loves those gadgets of his, doesn't he?
why yes, i suppose he does.
i thought so. keep him around. you won't be sorry.

my mother was prescient, it turns out. and nothing has changed. a decade and a half later, the man is still a toy mogul. he was just before his time; nowadays, we all are. i damn near bought an ipad last night, just because of its usefulness. of all people, the man talked me out of it... but only because there's going to be a new one coming out soon. buy it then; it'll be much better. but he was the one who was in touch with this long before. he owned a newton, for god's sake.

i find it the height of amusing that my mom saw all of this coming. she saw his innovation, his love of the new and high-tech. (this has been driven home HARD during the computer-loving glee that has been the misanthropy bowl on jeopardy. more on this tomorrow.) something about that struck her, and she thought enough of it to make a comment to her surly, sarcastic, snappish teenage daughter. and y'know, his technological affinity, which translates into his highly logical frame of mind, is one of my favorite things about him. my toy mogul, then, now and forever.

made it, ma. top of the world.

i never called my mother "ma." my dad will occasionally call my grandmother that when he's annoyed with her, but it was never my style. i called her "mom." short, sweet, to the point. there are a lot of things i want these days, first and foremost a job. but today, three years to the day after getting that call, all i really want? well, it's her.

i've been told that she wanted to be a lawyer when she grew up. she worked for lawyers when i was a kid, and she was a damn fine paralegal. but she always wanted to be the one arguing the cases. when i was a little kid, all curled up in her office with the code of alabama as a toy, i told her i was going to grow up to be a lawyer, and she would encourage the hell out of me. when i argued my "cases" in my high-school mock trial programs, she'd challenge me, help me refine my points and sharpen my analyses. i was good. and i was good because she made me good.

but the bitch of it is, she never got to see it happen for real. i was halfway through 1L year when i got that call. i hadn't talked to her in forever. i can't even remember if she knew i was in law school or not. i think so. but that's the way these things work when reality, complication, etc. set in. the night before my divorce was finalized, i lay in the arms of my man, a boy she always loved when we were kids, and cried like my heart was broken (because it felt like it was). i wept for the loss of my marriage, even though it was what i wanted. my heart broke for the mistakes i made, the sorrow i caused us both, all of that. and when i was able to choke out a sentence, what did i say? "i want my mom." because i did. who else do you turn to when your walls are crumbling, when you're hurt, sad and confused? wounded babies cry for mama. apparently, so do wounded women.

today i wore black, i played our old song. i looked at myself in the mirror and noticed all the ways i've grown to resemble her. with my hair red, it's uncanny. i celebrated the legacy of the woman who made me who i am. it just sucks beyond belief that i reached her goal, attained her dream, and she didn't make it to see. all i can do is make damn sure i live up to the standards she set. no time to rest on my laurels now.

alma mater

this is your soundtrack. this is my alma mater. i miss this place more than i could ever imagine.

"where stately oaks and broad magnolias shade inspiring halls,
there stands our dear old alma mater who to us recalls
fond memories that waken in our hearts a tender glow
and make us happy for the love that we have learned to know

all hail to thee our alma mater, molder of mankind
may greater glory, love unending, be forever thine
our worth in life will be thy worth, we pray to keep it true
and may thy spirit live in us...

forever LSU."


GEAUX TIGERS.

the heart of the matter

[with special thanks to an utterly awesome blogger for the inspiration. are you reading her? go read her immediately after you're done here. you will LOVE her.]

and i thought of all the bad luck, and the struggles we went through; how i lost me, and you lost you.
this road never gets easier. as the mechanical unwinding process continues, we still have to talk. and it's weird. i would love to be friendly, to be easy and natural with you. you're not interested in it. you've built a really obvious wall between us. i can't blame you for anything you've done. you're entitled to your process. but it's still rough, a small scrape with an emery board across my heart every time your voice sounds that way.

there are people in your life who've come and gone, they've let you down, y'know they've hurt your pride.
oh, wait. that's me, i guess. i did come and go, i let you down and hurt your pride. i broke you into pieces and, yeah, i hurt your pride. sorry about that. but i just get the feeling that i'm going to have to bear the cross of your pain and sorrow for a lot longer than you'll have to deal with mine. maybe that's what comes from being the decision-maker, the one who pulls the trigger. but i hardly think it's fair that i have to be continually blamed. i have tried to soften the blow as much as i can. i really, really have.

and the work i've put between us, you know, it doesn't keep me warm.
it's pretty apparent that i'm basically happy in my life. my professional dreams are lining up, school is... well, it's school, and then there's the whole "i'm in a loving relationship with my real, honest soul mate" thing. (not that we're discussing that; it's, frankly, not your business anymore. you may have some clue, but really, it's not your concern.) but the reality is, i miss what we were. and no matter what comes up in its place, there will be a hole in me where you used to be. it'll be a little cold, a little tender, and yes, a little painful forever. neither of us will ever get over this. ever.

i'm learning to live without you now, but i miss you sometimes.
it's a different life i have now, suddenly, without a lot of adjustment time. and you know, i was pretty damn comfortable. your good qualities - man, it's notable that i don't have some of that stuff in my life. your unconditional kindness is something i miss. the world doesn't baby a woman on her own the way you were willing to do. i could always find comfort with you. that is not always the case now. the new relationship has a new dynamic, and he's not as soft with me as you always were. i'm not used to that. know this: it wasn't a wholesale rejection of you. i do miss you sometimes.

but i think it's about forgiveness, forgiveness, even if, even if you don't love me anymore.
you don't love me anymore. i know this. but i want to get to a place of forgiveness. maybe that'll happen someday. i sure hope it will, especially given that you'll be forty years old before we're all the way untangled from each other. that'll be twenty years of time in one another's lives, when it's all said and done. i'd like the last eight to be... not the same as the first twelve, but not a source of pain, anger and sorrow for both of us.

i want to be forgiven. maybe someday you'll grant it to me. i can hope, right?

sweet southern moon

[this all started when i found this picture while listening to this song. heard the song again today; hence the renewed nostalgia...]

i have one exam - one long, stupid take-home exam for a professor i, frankly, detest - standing between me and freedom for fall 2010. senior-itis (LL.M.-itis?) is hitting me hard. and with winter like this hitting the metro area as hard as it can, i was in the right frame of mind to get knocked sideways by a four-minute pop song about driving the river road in baton rouge.

yeah, i was never so sweet on baton rouge when i lived there. i love, love, LOVE the fact that i hold two degrees from LSU law center. i am proud as hell of that. GEAUX. TIGERS. but the town itself? meh. it's funny, though, how experiences twine themselves around your heart when you least see them coming. i find myself realizing just what i had when i lived there, and how, well, perfect LSU was for me.

i'll hit the road myself in a few days, heading back south for a series of amazing reunions with people all over the southeast, the family and friends who, frankly, got ignored for too long while i was living the old life, the one that wasn't me. but when i'm here, though i am blissfully happy with my surroundings, a shockingly intense twinge of longing for, say, boudin balls at the chimes whipsaws through me. i have no idea what causes this, but there it is.

this is an old habit of mine. for most of my adult life, and even when i was a snotty little college kid, i found it remarkably hard to just light somewhere. (to translate the southernism: light somewhere = be still and settle.) i spent my last two years of college constantly driving back and forth across the commonwealth of virginia. i always want to move, to go, to do. i am almost never at my house. it makes me wonder if it's the place i miss, or the action, the motion, the other-ness? interesting question, i guess. the time will come, very soon, when i put down roots for real. i've made commitments to this place, ones that i am not at all interested in breaking. the pliability that accompanied some of my old life choices is no longer available - the people involved in my decision-making process are adults, with lives and responsibilities of their own. balancing all of this inures towards staying still, being present and breathing for once in my life.

so the old strains of that silly little song, which really does sum up nights in baton rouge better than a thousand descriptions i could write, still tug at my heart. but when i'm done having some brews and marinating in that sweet, sweet southern moon, i'll get in the car and come back here, back to the arms of my love, my city, and i'll curl up in the comfort of home. the roots will grow. they're small, but they are most certainly there.

walking with a ghost

the strain of the windup of my old life is really starting to show in me. it's becoming increasingly difficult to maintain an even keel through all of this. the cracks are a little more obvious, and it's really getting challenging to keep the rage and disappointment from seeping through and spattering themselves all over innocent bystanders. i truly believe that even those people who offer themselves as support, as comfort, during difficult times should be spared unnecessary emotional fallout (exhibit A: the man). but it's really getting hard to hold back the worst of it.

making things strangely, cruelly WORSE, though, is when things get a little better on that front. it's not that i want things to stay bad between us. far from it. i would love nothing more on this earth than to stay friendly with someone who used to matter so much to me. i can't express that strongly enough. but the savage nature of the way things are ending have cast so much doubt on the possibility of that ever happening. i am almost 100% resigned to chilly silence on that front.

but then, every so often, things like today happen. we had a real, honest and friendly conversation about mutual friends and recent events. good god, it was almost like the old days again. y'know, except for that whole severed ties, bitter arguments thing. to have things be so pleasant, so nice, so fun, knowing how angry and hurt he's made me time and time again, was alternately so amazing and thoroughly painful. i really can't react to this. i want it; i don't. it's violently bipolar.

the silent, angry path would be easier to walk now. it would hurt, but it would be simple. but there are dashes of good, pleasant and nice here and there that make this so much more complicated. his parents did the same thing: they fought bitterly, but then they danced like nothing changed at their son's wedding. is that my future with him? i don't know. i don't know if i want it to be. i have so much going for me down the road i walk alone. i have my dream career to reach for, i have the man i was meant to have. but there's this last vestige of... something. he's haunting the peripherals of my life, sometimes benevolently, sometimes malevolently. i don't know if i can manage what this means. all i know is that this makes the situation infinitely more complicated. is that what i want?

small world

i live in a major city. there are millions of people in the national capital area. i can walk the streets here, pass hundreds of people while winding my way through the metro system, and never see anyone familiar. it's an interesting feeling; a lot of times, it lets me be totally alone with my thoughts, anonymous and cloistered while in the midst of teeming life. it's, honestly, one of my favorite things about living here at this phase of my life.

but sometimes, way more than you'd ever expect, this is the smallest town ever. tonight, i discovered that a professor of mine grew up in my home state, and his niece and nephew are friends with a girl who was in the mock-congress program in which i met the man. the professor was familiar with all of my K-12 schools, knew people i knew. this sort of thing isn't supposed to happen in a place like this, and yet, it does. this isn't the first time, either; a woman in my program grew up with the woman who married my high-school boyfriend. that's crazy.

i guess, in a way, there's something warm and comfortable in these small moments. it reminds me that there's connection in this world. and really, i'm going to (god willing and the creek don't rise) be a real-life lawyer in a little less than a month; if there's a profession on this earth that depends more on making connections, short of high-pressure sales, i don't know of it. but at the same time, it's just ever so slightly, well, creepy. how am i supposed to be autonomous when these threads to the past keep popping up everywhere? maybe it's nothing. maybe i'm just paranoid. maybe i'm not treating these little coincidences as the fun things to laugh over that i should.

but if my world is really that small, how the hell can i grow?

always be my baby

"you'll always be a part of me, i'm part of you indefinitely..."

pop music and i are not on the best terms in my adult life. i find most of it, well, juvenile and ridiculous. but last night/this morning, i sat on a bar stool belting out the lyrics to mariah carey songs like it was my job. a large part of it was the wine i drank (oh, and we drank a LOT of wine, don't get it twisted), but it was also the security of being with someone who cares for me through and through, only judges me in jest and indulges my ridiculous side. hell, who participates willingly in my craziness.

so i sang my heart out, and in that moment, it was 1994 all over again. it's funny that the songs we used to dance to in eighth grade have a weird resonance in our thirty-year-old lives.

"and we'll linger on, time can't erase a feeling this strong." 


we didn't realize we were prophets. people who i couldn't live without as, like, total BFFs in middle school still form the fabric of my life today. and thank the gods for them. as i remember what it's like to be me, they're part of the answer to the question. these people will shepherd me through my renewal, as i awaken the old memories and slip back into the skin i wore so well back then. i treasure you more than i can ever say.

"ooh, don't you know you can't escape me; yeah, darlin', 'cause you'll always be my baby..."

the boss

didn't i just write about losing a piece of the yankee firmament? damn.

the boss is dead. after nearly 40 years, mr. steinbrenner is gone. if mr. sheppard's passing messed with my head, this knocks my world for a loop. i was born 8 years after CBS sold the team. i remember the insane years of hiring and firing, tampa-trust free agency foolishness, and the suspension for tailing dave winfield. the man was the original big spender.

every yankee fan had a complex relationship with the man. i hated how he treated yogi berra. i hated the mercurial nature of the 80s and early 90s. but i loved the drive. i loved the acumen. i love how he - and don't argue with me on this - resurrected the yankee mystique of the earlier dynasties and rebuilt the team into the billion-dollar juggernaut of class, polish and high standards that it is today. without mr. steinbrenner, god knows what would've happened to us.

so we say goodbye to our multi-faceted benefactor. god speed, mr. steinbrenner. may your sons take what you built and make it even better. may we never forget your dedication to the yankee brand. you join the pantheon of lost yankee legends today. we're better for having had you.

voice of god

i am a little dedicated to sports. it goes deep with me. i've been a yankees fan my whole entire life, starting in 1981 when things were bad. i remember the lean years before derek jeter showed up. so when i read today that bob sheppard, who announced games at yankee stadium since before my dad was born, passed on, it really knocked me for a loop.

not a shock, really; to live to age 99 is an accomplishment within and of itself. but mr. sheppard passing is one more iconic piece of my childhood slipping away. it's a small thing, one that i only got to enjoy in person a few times, hearing your team's announcer speak the names of your favorite players. but tied into every joyous moment i spent in the stadium is the rolling, gorgeous voice of mr. sheppard. reggie jackson called him the voice of god. if i were a believer, i'd be inclined to agree.

time only goes one way. but losing even little pieces of the fabric of your life hurts. rest in peace, mr. sheppard.

t-shirt

it doesn't look like much, that's for sure. it's an old, white giveaway t-shirt from some college something or other, just a random tchotchke designed to lull nineteen-year-old kids into throwing their money away on some stupid gimmick or scam. but what it lacks in elegance or style, this t-shirt more than makes up for in symbolism. see, i stole it from him. nothing he'll miss. i've known girls who'd take something near and dear to their conquests, wear them around like badges of honor. it's really conspicuous, and it makes a definite statement of "he's MINE, bitches." by stealing such a nondescript totem from the boy, i've made this a lot more about me than about him.

the night was long, one of those hazy celebratory evenings where the party never really ends, just sort of fades away. without really meaning to, we ended up outside alone together, unwinding in the sticky summer air, drinking beer and trying to one up each other in that subtle way that newly minted lovers do. a hand resting lazily on my knee, he smiled at me and suggested a more suitable environment for our discourse. i gladly accepted, and as we moved further into our relationship that night, i knew something had fundamentally changed in me. something had come loose, changed, altered itself, and there was no turning back. when he left, there was a rumpled white t-shirt lying on my floor. must've been an undershirt or something; i didn't really take inventory of what he came in with. i took it, slipped it on, and breathed in his scent as i drifted back to sleep, smiling at the memory and confident in the path we were taking together.

funny how things change over time. that ran its course; we parted ways on the best of terms, as well we should have. i still see him every so often, and that smile is still something that sparks in me. but there's a wistfulness in the way we interact now. we're very different people these days, and it's never clearer than when we talk. but i can look at that t-shirt, which still sits in my dresser drawer, and remember what it was like to take such pleasure in something so small. no greater gift a lover can leave you than the gift of just being happy. that's what he gave me, and that's what his t-shirt means to me.

this time of year

[all song lyrics: "this time of year," better than ezra]

"well there's a feeling in the air, just like a friday afternoon..."
the florida night is humid and sultry in mid-may. it's the kind of feeling that makes a girl feel like getting in trouble, and luckily for me, tonight's that kind of night. downtown music festival, my favorite band: the makings of a perfect spring night out. even though i have the ostensible supervision of one of my most rational friends, i know full good and well that a night like this is open to nothing but the best possibilities.

"there's your first car on the road and the girl you steal..."
he's undoubtedly too old for me. that much is obvious from the dog tags, the car keys, and the gigantic cans of foster's he holds in both hands. but that smile. this man - and he is DEFINITELY a man - is not boyfriend material. good thing that's not what i'm out for. with my suddenly extraneous buddy in tow, i make my way to the front of the crowd, right up there by the stage, and right up to the edge of his crew. "hey javier! we need more BEER!" he yells, then turns and looks at me. "oh. hey."

trying very hard not to blush, i take a look at those amazingly gray eyes and say, "hey yourself." head up, chest out, smile and sell it. this just got a LOT more interesting.

"well, i know there's a reason to change..."
"what's your name, hon?" i tell him something that sounds right. i mean, not like it matters tonight. his name is clint, or chris, or something normal and solid. we chat about nothing for awhile, the crowd filling in around us. just then, the guitars start, the lights go up, and the show starts. within five minutes, the sailors around us are drunkenly slam-dancing to the dulcet tones of alterna-pop, something i didn't realize was possible until now. the show is amazing, as always.

"seems like it's always understood this time of year..."
ah, the slower songs. the navy pilots may actually stop chucking beer cans at the stage for a few minutes. no, wait; there goes another one. full this time, too. great. i always wanted to smell like a brewery. i borrowed this shirt from my most sexually successful friend, too. oh well; that's why the good lord gave us washers, i guess. but this girl's got some talents, and her wardrobe's a large part of those talents. the shirt's helping me, too. clint-or-chris can't take his eyes off me. heh. awesome. i have no idea what happened to my buddy; he got swallowed up by the mosh pit twenty minutes ago.

and that's when i feel it. i look to my right, and with no provocation whatsoever, this amazingly beautiful man has his arm around my waist. oh, glory. it worked. this NEVER works for me. and he's leaving it there. oh, man. if he only knew... and that's why he'll never know exactly who i am.

"so go on, let it be, when there's a feeling coming over me..."
just like that, the show's over. i've got maybe twenty minutes to keep up the charade. as the crowds part, and javier starts yelling for clint-or-chris to head over to the bar for last call, he says to me with this delicious smile, "so you coming back tomorrow?"

i'm not, obviously. it's a two-hour drive between here and home. but he doesn't have to know that. "yeah, we'll see. i got a thing tomorrow."

"hey, that's cool. maybe i'll see you around sometime." and the kiss he finishes the word "sometime" with will resonate long after this night is over. right there, in front of hundreds of people, with no regard for anything. just me, this random stranger, the moonlight, the perfect moment. as he turns to go, he shoots that killer smile. "have fun tonight."

that's when i realize that my sweet, rational friend is staring at me, open-mouthed. "oh, my god. did you just do that?"

"yeah. i did, didn't i?" i feel just a little different in this moment than i did the moment before. more beautiful, more exotic, more... grown, i guess. oh yeah. this is the kinda night i like. i don't ever want to lose this feeling: the rock star, the trophy, the girl who's so beautiful and perfect that he has to kiss me right there. there's nothing in this world i want more.

we turn and head towards the meeting place. my dad's picking us up in ten minutes. eleventh grade just got a ton more interesting. and hell, it's almost summer. there'll be nothing but mugginess, moonlight, and time to kill. and i'll own every last second of it.

"yeah, you can feel it in the air, feelin' right this time of year."

unfettered nostalgia

oh, friends, today is a red-letter day in my personal universe. not only do i have a brand-new LEGIT DVD set of the little-watched MTV show the maxx, but i also received my long, long, LONG awaited DVD collection, legit as well, of probably my favorite show of all time, daria.

oh, my lord, it's perfect. all the things i loved in high school, which was probably the last time i really felt like myself, coming back to me at last. i feel like i had the reverse experience that most people had with youth. a lot of people i know were, if not abjectly miserable in high school, always felt a little off. i never felt off. i was totally confident, a raging ball of energy, possibility and good-natured cynicism. i had a clique of like-minded friends, i wasn't the target of teenage abuse, and i really felt like anything in the world was possible. when i look back on high school, the memories are all over-saturated with color and sunshine. i was on top of the freaking world.

it wasn't until college, and beyond, when things started unraveling. that's when the fierce assurance that the world was my oyster was punctured, when my confidence was shaken and challenged, and when i started to define myself by other people and other things. i lost sight of who i was independent of others. that, my dears, is a BAD, BAD sign. and that's how i got myself into the situation i'm in today. sigh.

but it's funny; now that law school is over and i'm making strides towards the life i used to imagine, i can feel the ol' mojo coming back. it's tempered a little by the hard knocks i've taken over time, to be sure, but i am starting to feel more like the girl i was before. that's the one thing that, while i will be in for some pain in the short term, will sustain me as i make my way into the great wide open, under them skies of blue. these little doses of nostalgia are fun, entertaining and interesting, to be sure. but they're also reminders that there was a time when i answered to only myself when it came to my dreams and my future. they're reminders that i can go back there again, that i can reclaim what i was and shape what i will be, no alternate influence required.

smoke

you keep saying the past is not dead
well, stop and smell the smoke
you keep on saying the past is not even past
and you keep saying
we are smoke, smoke, smoke...
- "smoke," ben folds five

i've spent the last few days just steeped to the gills in blasts from my past, some welcome, some uncomfortable. i spent a few terrifying hours trying to keep drunk people from getting into worse states than they were already in, with varying degrees of success. (only a little blood was spilled. i consider that a win.) i went to the wedding of a dearly-beloved ex, finding people i hadn't seen in two-plus decades at the same event. and i had a mini-reunion of sorts with some wonderful college friends on a random night in the law-school town.

all this got me thinking about the past. i do that a lot. but really, it's funny. i've found that reconnecting with the people who knew me before i tied myself down and quashed my ambitions restores me and satisfies me in ways i never anticipated. but meeting up with the people who knew me in the middle of that, through no fault of their own, just remind me of how different i made myself in furtherance of a goal that really should never have been a goal in the first place. it's painful, and it's annoying.

so it's not that the past is dead, nor that it should be. i love my friends. but the past i'd like to revisit and reconnect with is the past in which i was truer to myself, before i stopped caring about myself, before i did what others wanted. as for the other past, when i was someone other than myself? yeah. that's smoke.