fractured

in a lot of respects, i am not good at waiting. but one thing i can do well is extend generosity, even when i'm being tested. i do everything i can to make things that are difficult as easy as possible on everyone around me. but i've now entered a situation in which this state of affairs is becoming increasingly impossible. i am no longer able to make everything passably comfortable.

this is really driving the point home that not only is it 100% over, which the reality-based community already knew, but that the aftermath will be infinitely uglier and more harrowing than i had even anticipated. i can't deal with the anger, the hurt, the alternating displays of rage and paranoia that have become the hallmark of every single weekend now. it's simply too much to bear. so i won't do it anymore.

there's an artificial deadline at work here, stringing us all along for another few weeks of grating our souls. but beyond that, well, that's it. there are no more illusions of everything being okay, or at least steady enough to maintain cordial relations. things are broken beyond repair, hanging together on the broken shards of a past that was once so promising. any hope of reconstructing them into something workable is gone.

we're in the fourth quarter, but the game is still going on. but this time, after the final whistle blows, there will be no cordial handshake and back-slap between friendly adversaries. there will be nothing but the stony silence of the final ending. and while i'll carry the trophy off the field, there won't be any joy in this victory. all i'll have is the knowledge that, despite my best efforts to make it okay, i just couldn't heal the break.

pictures of you

a fun side effect of moving is finding unexpected little surprises here and there, tucked into boxes behind old pairs of shoes and your stash of sweatshirts. i found a cache of old snapshots, a path through the halcyon days of college, before digital cameras made it infinitely easier to capture ignominy for the rest of the world to see. (and don't think i am not ETERNALLY grateful that i missed facebook in undergrad.) i spent a few happy minutes glancing through the stack, remembering some things fondly, with a pinch of bittersweet for how things have changed.

then i got to the last picture in the stack, and the shock of the sight took my breath away.

when i married at age 21, there were a couple hundred random snapshots in addition to the stiffly posed portraits. the photographer was far better at choosing action shots, casual vignettes of what was supposed to be our special day. dizzy with the good humor of the day, i convinced my least-social friend, who stood at the altar and watched me walk down the aisle to take my vows, to pass a slow dance with me. as we danced together, we talked, laughed, et cetera. the photographer crept up near us, without me even seeing it, and snapped a single photo of the moment. he was in mid-sentence, gesturing with one hand. i had a hand on his shoulder, smiling. we were looking each other in the eyes. honestly, to an outsider, you'd think he was the groom, so intimate was that moment.

so here we sit, so far from that day in so many ways. the man who put the ring on my finger doesn't live here. the wedding dress i wear hangs in the new closet, bearing witness to the past. and the friend from the picture? well, we laid in what was once my marital bed, skin against skin, and held each other close in the dark of the same night that brought me this slice of memory. we spoke in voices measured and fearful, pledging our love to one another and fearing the uncertainty of the changing dynamic between us. he mentioned that day, all those summers ago; watching me walk down the aisle and take another man's hand, he said, cut him in ways he couldn't articulate until that moment.

that photo, once a pleasant aside to the day that would build my life, is now only a stark reminder of what should have happened. but that's the funny thing about memories; you can use the example of what came before to rectify mistakes, to learn, and to grow. we learned from our errors, and in the darkness, in each other's arms, we forever changed the context. now, when i see the way we look at each other in that long-ago slow dance, i see a future, a possibility.

a memory reborn, reclaimed, all in the space of a picture.

restrepo

[the reference]

today, the president told us that we're done fighting in iraq. next summer, we'll start leaving afghanistan. perhaps this was a good day to take myself to a war documentary. let me tell you something right off the bat: you owe it to yourself as an american (or if you're not american, as a person) to see this film. it's, to my decidedly civilian eyes, beautifully done, and it pulls no punches. it's especially moving how, just for fleeting moments, we were able to see the guys find release in small and sometimes utterly silly ways. films like restrepo bear silent, non-ideological witness to what we do when we make war.

i expected to be deeply affected by the movie. i know people who served, and they are never far from my mind, especially in that context. hell, full metal jacket gets under my skin and it's 100% fiction. but this was a level of emotion that i can't really even articulate. i mean, some of these soldiers, sent off to this insanely remote and ridiculously dangerous corner of an intractable war zone, were BOYS. i don't say that to condescend; they were easily 10 years younger than me. to watch them in action, just dutifully going forward with their orders... well, i was in awe. it's like this. when i worked my 2L summer, my boss said to me a lot, "hey, drive down to the court house and walk this succession through." in the same tone, these guys were told, "hey, go into this valley where people are shooting at you. fire back at them. oh, and by the way, we're pretty sure they're our enemy, but we're not totally sure. oh, and there are kids and women down there. oh, and you may die." and they went and did it.

the question that kept popping into my head throughout was, "why the hell are we doing this to them?" these guys were amazingly poised, skilled and sharp. they're so well trained, and they're an asset to this country. it is my personal opinion that american soldiers are precious on so many levels, and that they should only be placed in harm's way if it's absolutely necessary. watching the officers try to get the mission advanced, i didn't get the feeling that these guys were being used that way. that's the thing that really boils my blood. i hate war, but i accept it as a necessary evil of human life. but by god, it does things to people. watching these boys talk about loss broke my heart in ways i can't describe. they will never, ever be the same. they'll always be in this war, in some way or another, and there's nothing anyone can do about it. and for what?

if there's not a really good answer to that question, we have failed our soldiers. and that is unacceptable.

so go see restrepo. if it's not playing where you are, get it on DVD when it comes out. give to iraq and afghanistan veterans of america or a similar group. and make damn sure you tell your government to respect our precious troops. use them smartly. honor what they do for us. god knows it's the least we can give them.

the city that care forgot

i have a hard time writing about katrina. i didn't experience the storm firsthand; i watched it wreak its havoc from a thousand miles away, sitting in my living room with my cadre of gulf-coast-raised friends in a kind of dull horror. i took a trip across the south about two weeks after the storm, turning north from oxford, mississippi instead of south, meeting dazed evacuees in every town. i watched the nation's people come through in whatever small way they could as the nation's government was perfectly content to let an entire region drown. the wounds ran deep enough for those of us who love the place; for those who live there, who call it home, it's an unimaginable grief.

it's five years later. i have written a couple of times about my love for the pelican state and my special relationship to new orleans. i firmly believe that new orleans is the most special, unique and soulful city in this nation. it's the shot of tabasco in our melting pot. and it kills me that still, even now, it's not okay yet. but there's one thing i know of this place. i've seen it myself. there's a toughness to new orleanians, and by extension everyone in the region, from mobile across to lake charles, that should be the model for american backbone. it takes true grit to call that place home. you either have it or you don't.

but beyond the toughness, the gulf south has a kind of well-worn sparkle about it that's hard to describe. it's not the glitz of new york or los angeles, the flash of las vegas or miami, or the sophistication of DC or chicago, but there's a louche, bluesy redolence about the area. the spirit of new orleans is hard to put into words, but it touches the whole region in varying degrees. you have to experience it for yourself to truly understand, but once you've opened yourself up to the city, it's in your blood forever and you'll never be the same.

so five years after the storm, we mourn what's lost and celebrate what's left. i hold that wondrous city, brassy, beautiful, loud and sticky, in my heart with everything i have. there's much left to do, and it's vital to keep moving forward. the soul of our nation lives in new orleans. never forget it.

impatience

i don't wait well. it's a weakness of mine; if something important is coming up, i am on freaking tenterhooks until it happens. case in point: i am currently waiting for my student loan disbursement. five business days is INTERMINABLE when you have a ton of things to buy. i'm antsy as hell waiting for the direct deposit to show up.

but this impatience pales in comparison with the waiting game i have to play now. i wonder if this is how people in jail feel as their sentences wind down. i am so. damn. close. to having absolutely everything i have ever wanted in this life. there's just the matter of having to snip those last few threads of entanglement before i can get totally free. i have no choice in the matter, either; there's just no way to advance the timetable.

all i can do is think about how little time is really left. i've waited this long. i can wait a little longer.

veneer

as open as i am in this setting (i.e., i will write just about anything here), it may surprise some of you to hear that i can be quite prim, proper and even shy in my real life. i really am more southern than i let on, in the traditional sense. i tend to live by the axiom, "would my grandmother approve of me saying/doing this?" this governs how i dress in most situations, and it definitely governs how i act.

but sometimes, just sometimes, i let my guard down. as traditional as i can be, every so often i let go and indulge every dark instinct that streaks through my brain. and you know better than most what i can do when properly inspired. i usually traffic in innuendo, flirtation... generally skirting the issue and hoping that you get the message i'm sending. but you cracked the code, didn't you? you broke through my carefully constructed veneer of propriety and found the passion underneath. you got me to be blunt with you, and i ate it up like sugar candy. you lead, i'll follow.

i want nothing more than to give you exactly what you want. you know this, and you indulge me my strange shyness. but every so often, you goad me, you push me, and you get me to deliver the goods. i still can't get over how unbelievably satisfying your insistence can be, and how receptive you are when i open up to you and tell you specifically what's going on in my head. in your hands, i am skilled; with your enthusiastic encouragement, i can be what you want. i only hope your experience is as satisfying as mine is. you are so, so worth it.

all falling into place

feeling like this worries me. it's in my nature. when things are this nice, this even, this fulfilling... well, damn. it makes me jumpy. i mean, it's not a cynic's way to look at life and see 72 degrees and sunny all over the place. i am much more accustomed to the agitation, the drama, the uncertainty. but life has provided me with untold amounts of comfort and assurance in the past few days.

my graduate program started tonight. and despite the fact that they gave as much time to the campus ministry staff that they did to the tax law program, it was a wonderful experience. i had pleasant conversations with a couple of potential new friends and got myself used to my new academic home. after the program ended, i took the train home, walked into my new apartment and took a good look around. there are still boxes freaking everywhere, but it's really starting to look and feel like home. damn if i'm not proud when i look at this place. it screams, well, me. my diplomas hang on the wall. it's just chocked to the gills with the sense of being MINE. i haven't felt this way about a space in which i've lived in, well, never, actually.

as i live and breathe. it's weird to say this in a season of what should be mourning the past, what's ending, and what i'm leaving behind, but i am so damn content i can't stand it. the future is so full of promise that it's ridiculous to even contemplate. i have no idea what it'll be, but there's a lot of good in front of me. i'm about to go through a tough academic year that will open doors for me that i never foresaw even being able to come near. i've got the love and comfort of good, close friends. i'm about to end some associations that have only held me back.

it's enough to make a girl believe. almost.

sweetheart

this weekend has been painful and enervating in so many ways. i look like i've been beaten with a tire iron. i'm bruised, sprained, sore and achy. but believe it or not, my heart is as full as it can be. these things all began, as many bad things do, with dollar miller lites and a shot of tequila. with that ever-so-appealing mixture coursing through my body, i went home with my favorite obsession and apparently ravished the hell out of him before... well. we don't need to get into what happened next. anyone who's ever been to college, or seen a movie about college, knows that.

as i lay on the bathroom floor, cursing miller brewing company and jose cuervo, i felt a rolled-up towel being slid gently under my head. a cup of water appeared next to me. my feet moved a little bit, and he sat down on the floor next to me. for the next hour, he talked to me, held my hair back, stroked my back and generally made sure i was alive. when i was hit with a particularly violent reaction, he picked me up and held me. through my misery, i felt his hand rub my back, soothing me through it. when i laid back down, he said, gently and with concern, "oh, sweetheart."

if you read my work, you can see imprints of this man woven through nearly everything i write. he and i have pushed, pulled, confused and delighted one another for so long now. we've been friends, lovers, adversaries and allies through it all. but when he called me sweetheart, he changed the game. this has been a long time coming, but it's here. we're in a different sort of relationship now. there's still no name for what we are, and i don't think there ever will be. but that's okay; we are people who are well used to existing outside the mores and conceptions of society. but now, there's a name for me, and that's all i've ever wanted.

sweetheart.

upgrade

i went to my new school for the first time today. it was kinda fun, in that nervous-unsure way starting something new always is. i picked up my ID card, went to an interview and used the library for the first time. let me tell you, i have definitely hit the majors. i imagine this is what guys feel like when they leave scranton/wilkes-barre and show up at yankee stadium: there's a palpable sense of BIG LEAGUES when you walk through the door.

i love learning. it's why i went into an intellectual discipline for my career. and though i loved the hell out of my law-school experience, it's supremely exciting to be set loose in this marble playground for the next year. i'm bound and determined to soak up every single drop that i can while it's my sole job to learn tax law in this legal-education paradise. it's a new feeling to me to have the best in life laid at my feet. i'm a teacher's kid. i went to public school in the deep south. i graduated from a state university for undergrad and law school. but this? oh, man. this is a cathedral of legal learning. the doors this will open for me should be pretty nice ones. i should be able to reach a much higher level than i would otherwise have been able to reach. i am grateful as hell, and i'm going to make the most of this.

it's a big damn deal. i'm open to this. let's go get it.

rumspringa

[definition]

american society in the twenty-first century is a cocktail of conflicting impulses so strong that we're all a little drunk, stumbling around trying to make sense of it. i mean, there are so many possibilities in the world these days, but we're all still hamstrung by nineteenth- and twentieth-century conceptions of social interactions. it's a wonder there's not more outright rebellion against these strictures.

the new york times had a long, drawn-out article about growing up today. apparently, people are just now realizing that modern young adults are taking a look around and outwardly questioning the way things are. the article, though it does strive to be objective, has a tinge of disapproval running through it. i mean, every large-scale social change we've ever had has come with a large dose of opprobrium from the old-school standard bearers in the world, and what's more old-school than the old gray lady? but towards the end of the article, there's a passing mention of how we can alter our conception of young adulthood. the author floats the idea of a season of release from the strictures of traditional maturity, allowing people to explore options and just... live... without worrying about judgment or criticism.

yeah. like that'll ever happen as long as someone keeps giving sarah palin and her ilk camera time or access to twitter. there's a billion-dollar industry devoted to pearl-clutching over societal evolution, and it's way too wedded to the powers that be to ever have hope of real change. sigh.

so those of us who seek something better, something truer, something more realistic than the old way of life are forced to exist in the shadow of this judgment. i've decided that i don't need a social revolution to start a personal revolution. i choose to live for myself in ways that most people who subscribe to a standard system of beliefs, ideology, etc. probably wouldn't enjoy. i was told once by one of the few people who know the full truth about my life that i am brave for doing this. i don't find it to be bravery, exactly. i find it to be perhaps the purest form of authenticity i can achieve. i have to do what i see fit.

there is collateral damage in my new way of life; for that, i'm sorry. i really am. i wish there was a way to be true to myself without hurting people. but there's always destruction in a revolution. i choose to leave my old life, my old slavery to things that please others, and pursue a route that pleases me. perhaps someday i'll come back to the fold, as many youth set free on rumspringa do. but there's an excellent chance that being true to myself is a permanent development. if that's the case, so be it. there's a freedom in total self-devotion that, frankly, i relish beyond all belief. it's going to be hard as hell to go back now that i've tasted it...

a way with words

you have this knack for finding me late at night when i'm all alone, your calls coming only when it's most convenient. you're a great conversationalist; you have been since the beginning. we can talk for hours about anything and nothing, deep or shallow. but you don't want to talk about anything, or nothing. you have a specific goal tonight, i think.

i encourage you as much as i can. i write you manifestos, promising any imaginable pursuit you could want. you up the ante, and i respond. but when it comes to conversations like this, well, my southern starts showing. as bold as i am, i get a little shy. does that surprise you? no matter. i think you're flexible enough to take the lead. i'm a traditional woman in some regards, and that means that if you lead, you'll find me quite responsive indeed.

there you go. you start the evening's storyline right where our writing left off. you've got a fantastic voice for this, low and slow, deep and assured. you lead me where you want me to go, and i gladly follow you. with each exchange, as your breath grows heavier, i finally lose my apprehensions and let go. my words spin forth with surprising ease; it's not every day that i indulge myself out loud like this. but your reaction is worth it. i may very well have rendered you speechless with my whispers, my entreaties, painting you the picture of how things would be were we not separated by so many miles.

when our story reaches its end, i lay back against my pillows and take stock of myself. you've, as always, done a number on me, your verbal skills finding their target so easily and so well. and from the sound of it, i hit my mark with you as well. good. i aim to please, after all. but you are the inspiration for all of this. don't forget that. our adventures together just entered a new realm. as long as you don't mind leading; a lady does know her place. well, sometimes...

texts from last night

i have a new text plan - i now get unlimited messages every month. it was the only thing i could do; overage charges are a bitch and a half, and this was the only way to stave off a nasty surprise in the next billing cycle. really, you'd think 1500 messages a month would be enough for someone like me. hell, up until this summer, i'd never used more than 500.

but you've suddenly taken over my phone in ways i never imagined. oh, it started innocently enough; a question here, a funny observation there. no big deal. that's how we've always been. but then came the other night. started off as a chat about football, laughing about something stupid some analyst said. but then, every other comment was laced with a level of innuendo i'd never seen from you. you usually save talk like that for when we're alone, behind closed doors. you surprised me, my dear. that night, you led a master class in seduction in 160 characters or less. a slow, teasing burn, never directly letting on, but working on me in ways you knew would get to me. finally, you broke me down, calling me from my bed and across town to yours. i walked barefoot into your house and tore into you like you were water and i was lost in the desert. you hit your mark, no question.

and ever since you drew me to you that night, you've shown an interest in me both pure and impure. every night, innocent or lurid, we're texting each other. even as i write this tonight, we're in mid-conversation on my phone. (mmm.) you intrigue me beyond belief. we've talked about this, and you've told me time and time again that there's nothing behind the wall. i don't think you're lying to me. i just wonder if you're as sure of that statement as you were before. maybe i've shown you something. maybe you've changed. maybe this is nothing more than a new level of flirtation. i can't be sure. i'm not certain if i even care.

just tread lightly. be careful. and for god's sake, don't stop.

clarity

i am often accused of being somewhat overconfident. not surprising; i am an egotistical only child. the world may not revolve around me, but by god, it should. this sense of sureness in the moment can sometimes lead me to make some insane choices. the phrase "it seemed like a good idea at the time" may very well be my epitaph.

there have been times in this slog through emotional purgatory that i've felt that the choice to break free and start anew was one of those good ideas at the time, that i'd eventually come to regret it and want nothing more to be back in that comfortable, sweet place i used to have. it is with great pleasure that i can announce that, for once in my life, i have 100% made the right decision.

i've had a lot of opportunity this week to throw in the towel, open my arms back up and say, let's forget all this and try one more time. that idea has, for lack of a better term, been forced down my throat. it's been all i could do to maintain my composure - and it's been a serious challenge - but there hasn't been a single moment when i've been tempted. in fact, this has been a forge, tempering my resolve into the strongest steel possible. i have never been more correct in my assessment of something than i have with this. i am on the right path. as soon as the mandatory clock runs, i will be a free bitch, baby. and it will be exactly correct. the way forward has never, ever been this clear.

origin myth

he and i are no stranger to scandal. we've carefully constructed this reality between ourselves, cultivating our private indulgences far outside the pale of what our friends would accept. instead of running away, killing ourselves over it, we've adopted it as our new reality. i live a double life, carefully building my realities depending on the audience and hoping like hell that the two halves can stay separated long enough to ride out the required delay. he aids and abets me, willingly, gladly shepherding me down this path and guarding all my secrets.

i lay there with him that first night, listening to him assure me that i wasn't crazy. i felt so much relief after that conversation. he'd really talked me down off the ledge; i was totally okay after that. i drifted off next to him in that big hotel bed. not the first time we'd slept next to each other. but the change came when he crossed that line, when he reached out his hands and touched me, just so, on the back of my neck, running his fingers through my hair. i lay there still, my heart racing, as his hands undid all the calm of his words a few short hours earlier. he made himself a liar then and there. i could ignore this. i could stop him...

...or i could bite into that apple and fall from grace once and for all. i drew in breath. this decision would require courage, more courage than i had to rely on. i whispered, "do you know what you're doing?" it would be the closest i'd come to acknowledging his double-edged intentions. he ran his hand over my shoulders and down my back. i drew in breath again, for other reasons.

"i think so." as our lips touched, we sealed our fate. stripping each other down and drinking deeply from one another, we bonded ourselves together in our secrecy, our treachery against my situation and our conspiracy to ourselves. we could never go back. it was changed forever. the only reality we will ever know again will be twined with the feeling of skin against skin, the illicit thrill of indulgence and the breathless danger of breaking rules.

we have always been intellectual rebels, riding the streets of our sleepy hometown with the knowledge that we were different, better, more than what we saw through the windows of his car. with that kiss, the rebellion crystallized, raised to a whole new level of disregard for convention. teenage angst is trite and overdone. a grown man and a grown woman, looking the rules of society in the face and spurning them in pursuit of pleasure, comfort, happiness, damn all the consequences? now that's a bold statement. we joined hands and jumped. we didn't bother to look down. we just fell together, never wondering or even caring what would happen when the clouds parted.

partner in crime redux

you make me feel like the most desirable woman on the face of the earth. you are insatiable, hungry, and eager, while still nominally in charge of everything that happens. you speak to that insecure teenager inside of me, the girl who still gets surprised that any boy would take the time to talk to her. you make me ravenous, daring, reckless. you're the type of man who inspires late-night trysts in taxicabs and back booths, stolen sensuality ringed in cigarette smoke and tinged in bourbon. you are excitement, danger, foolish abandon. you bring out parts of me i thought were long dead.

i could do this forever. the ego boost alone is worth it. you know just how to get to me, and you do it gladly every time. where shall we go next?

what have i become?

sometimes i take a look at my life and think, holy hell. how in the name of god did all of this happen? often, this is because of good things. i had one of those thoughts right before the vice chancellor read my name and i walked across the stage at my law-school commencement. rarely, this is because of bad things. but most often, it's a cocktail of amazing and heartbreaking that brings me to this state of mind. that's where i sit today.

there are so many fun, exciting and interesting parts of my life these days. i'm coming into my own as a professional, as a city dweller, and as a person in general. there are flirtations new and ongoing, twists and turns that surprise me as much as they take my breath away. the future holds nothing but new possibilities. and yet, there are portions of this existence that just break me into pieces. my heart just bleeds when i think about the final shattering of my old life. there is still so much hurt, so much disappointment there. being confronted with this and unable to do anything about it... it hurts me more than i can bear.

i'm starting to wonder, really wonder, what it is that i'm made of. i'm starting to think it may not be as good as i originally thought. maybe the carefully constructed layers of maturity, reason, kindness are nowhere near as deep as i intend them to be. it's possible that i am really just as bankrupt as every other sociopath out there. that this whole self-determination kick is a hollow charade designed to give myself psychological permission to just behave in a thoroughly ruthless manner without having to feel the repercussions of that ruthlessness. the deftness with which i spin this image scares me.

maybe this happens because i lack something other people have. and if that's the case, what becomes of me? who wins, the better angels or the lesser demons? and if the demons win sometimes, does it even matter if the angels ever win?

does the darkness in my dreams control me?

back and forth

i woke up this afternoon sore on my entire right side. muscle aches, bruises, a couple of strains, and one really sharp pain in my hip. one good back rub later, i was actually able to get out of bed, but let's just say that last night/this morning's activities really took it out of me.

it's fun beyond description to get totally drenched in your lover's sweat as he battles you for supremacy. i play with submission a lot these days, but every once in awhile i get a wild hair to turn the tables. i mean, a girl can't be pliant and subservient all the time. what fun is that? thankfully, my favorite playmate is just as flexible as i am. he's more than willing to let me work it out on him as easily as he works it out on me. or is he?

sometime shortly before sunup, out of breath and tousled of hair, holding his wrists and enforcing my will, i got the distinct feeling that my efforts weren't so much subsuming him as they were amusing him. and that's when it hit me. he and i are best not when one or the other of us is in charge, but when we take each other on face to face. so as he baited me, i challenged him. our words got more daring, the adrenaline flowed. we locked hands, wrestling each other figuratively and literally. he snarled at me; i laughed at him. the taunts, throwing each other around the bed, the oh-so-sweet challenge of love not given lightly. we pushed each other to the brink physically and emotionally, and even beyond the brink.

oh, and were we ever rewarded. the sun rose over us entwined, his lips against my neck, my head resting in the crook of his arms, completely exhausted and thoroughly sated in each other's pleasure. power games are fine. egalitarianism, though? even sweeter.

reckless indifference

i spend a lot of time talking about maturity, responsibility and adulthood. a lot of this comes with the territory of being at the end of my twenties, i think. but really, in my heart of hearts, i am still the snotty little punk teenager i was back in the mid-90s. there's an element of arrested development at work here, for sure. i mean, the decisions i made at the end of my teen years locked me into a pattern that i've only just recently been able to break. there's some explanation for the just-don't-give-a-damn i feel sometimes.

but there's more to it than that. i still have a large streak of wild impulsiveness alive and well in me. i've noticed that in the last two years, i have been given to making decisions that rational adults would call foolish at best and dangerous at worst. many of these decisions have been shared with y'all here. but the closer i get to total freedom, the stronger these impulses get. for example, driving back from the bar exam, i was randomly seized with the urge to just... drive somewhere. not back home, but somewhere else in particular. just take off, no announcement, no plans. i didn't, largely because by the time i reached the junction between home and somewhere else, exhaustion had set in and i just wanted my bed. but had i been slightly less exhausted, who knows what might've happened?

there are so many things i've done this summer that defy logic and really serve to disprove everything i've ever said about maturity. but the best is yet to come. i made a decision last night that will either stay harmless fun or open up a pandora's box of bad consequences. and there's just no way to tell which one it is until it happens. you'd think that would make me nervous, scare me, or drive me to try to fix the problem. nope. my give-a-damn's busted. not only am i not afraid, but i welcome the consequences. let whatever's going to happen come on. i'm ready for some excitement. let's shake it up even worse than i have in the past.

life is meant to be lived. i'm going to live it. damn the torpedoes. full speed ahead.

death of a thousand cuts

the summer is slowly winding down. i'm finishing my time in the sublet, making plans for the next year of my life, getting ready to start the final year of my formal education and the first chapter of my new story as a woman on her own. this time has flown by so quickly that it's really hard to internalize. my new life and my old life are about to run smack into each other. the time is short; a matter of days until the balancing act that fall 2010 will become begins in earnest. the illusions i've built, the freedom i've grown into so well: these things will have to be tempered by the fact that, well, he'll be back here. the convenient excuse of a thousand miles is as gone as yesterday come this weekend.

we've started the process of working these issues out. i'm not sure reality has set in on his side. i don't really have the heart to be that blunt over the phone. these things are best suited face-to-face. it's been over two months since i last saw him. there will be a whole lot of forced cheer in the beginning, as we have fun with his friends, put on the happy face and pretend like there's nothing wrong. 'course, i didn't count on him being so terrible at compartmentalizing his feelings; our deep, dark secrets have been paraded around his circle of loved ones like painted-up tarts at times. i don't know how i feel about this, just that i'm not happy about it.

words have been exchanged, hurts have been confessed. the bloom has fallen off the rose. my anger, his anger, my disappointment, his bewilderment are now the currency of our communications. when we're not forced to get into these issues, i can discuss things with him like we're old friends. but as soon as he persists in delving into our problems, the ice block in my heart swallows up my emotions and turns me into a shadow of myself. i just don't want to deal with this anymore. i want to slash this gordian knot in half, unraveling all of this once and for all.

but we're not that lucky. he doesn't know that he'd be luckier if i could make that happen, if i could just slice through all of this, sever it all and leave the ends raw and bleeding onto the floor. but i do. i know what i've done. i know what i'm capable of doing. i know how badly i can wound. i don't like it, but it's true. if there was any way at all to just make this all go away, it would save him from a fate worse than the languishing death of a thousand tiny cuts. this is our reality, and this is our future. it's going to hurt far worse than anything you could ever imagine.

it's the right way to do it, to be smart, gradual, logical. but it'll be the death of me.

what a good boy

what a good boy, what a smart boy, what a strong boy. traditional impulses all; this is what your "traditional man" should be, i suppose. i'm a feminist; i'm not supposed to care about how tough, strong, etc. a man is. and yet, that's the one thing i seem to want above all else when i look for a man: alpha-male bona fides.

he's got them in spades. he's so cocksure. he knows he's the smartest guy in the room, no question. (he's not wrong, either.) it's nowhere near the traditional definition of BIG STRONG MAN, though. he's not a fighter. he's no one's concept of a tough guy; he's not in "shape," not at all a physical specimen. and yet, i simply cannot get enough of him. he's got a way about him that just oozes sex appeal. he's snarky, he's confident.

but it's more than that. he twins this cockiness with an equal measure of devotion. i know full good and well that he dominates me in part to show his power, but in part because he knows it serves my wishes. that's the bargain we've struck with each other, there in the dark. he gets to be the boss, the master... but we both know that we act in service of one goal only, and that's my pleasure. he says it low and slow in my ear: "i love to see you come for me." he claims that this is all about him, what he can do, and how addicted i am to him. he's part right; i am completely at his sexual mercy and he knows it. but that's not the whole story. as much power as he has over me, i have that much more over him. i hold him in my hands, literally and figuratively, when we're together.

maybe that's how these things square up, how two liberal feminists can have such a viciously retrograde sex life. it's a game; it's all a game with us. we play at these things. he holds me down and keeps me pinned under him, knowing full well that my struggles are nothing more than a charade. when he growls in my ear, ferocious and triumphant, "you can't get away from me; i can do whatever i want and you're totally fucking powerless," he knows that there's a limit to how true that actually is. he uses the language of the subduer, the attacker, but it's enclosed in this context between us. he forces, he strikes, he imposes his will. but all of this power only comes to him through my grant to him. without my suggestion, none of this happens.

so who's the strong one, the tough one? it's not so clear, is it? i've heard it said that the woman in every relationship holds the reins. i'm not sure that you can reduce this to such a strictly definable gender construct. what i do know is this: the structure between us exists at my insistence. it's based on years of carefully-earned trust, on both sides. it's interesting that the only way such a starkly violent, hyper-patriarchal sexual existence could possibly exist is because the relationship that undergirds the bruises, the scratches and the vicious words is so grounded in, for lack of a better description, love and respect. he honors me in ways i can't even articulate. it's because of that honor that he can debase me, objectify me, rule me. it's exactly what i want from him.

what a good boy, indeed.

more than this

you and i meet this way time and time again. usually it's my idea, but i finally got tired of being the needy one, so i tried to give you the weekend off.

but you had other plans, didn't you? i went and made it challenging. well, as challenging as i can. i made you ask me for once. and we both get exactly what we want. you get to take your liberties; i get to surrender myself completely to your savage mercy. we drink from each other over and over again, committing ourselves not to each other, but to our own pursuits of pleasure.

maybe i'm learning. i woke this morning with no care in the world, just the feeling of your arm across my hips. no pressure. no expectations. just you, and me, and the satisfaction of a job well done.

you know there's nothing more than this.

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..."

cool blue reason

there's a time in the middle of every big life decision when the fog of fear, pain, confusion, etc. parts, and for one brief second, the cold light of rationality shines on you. the road becomes clear. consensus may even be reached in a bitter fight.

i woke up this morning in a very bad head state. things had escalated way out of control, and every answer i thought i'd reached had been replaced by a hundred questions. but for once, my instinct to overthink, overanalyze and generally obsess myself into a serious problem held itself in abeyance. i sat down on the couch, picked up a leisure book, and simply... started... thinking. it almost felt like my process during the bar exam, weirdly: i felt myself looking at the fact pattern of my life, issue-spotting, and applying the law to the facts. well, not the law, but more like the truth of my emotional life.

and strangely enough, i started to come to some realizations. things became clear again. for the first time in probably two years, i feel like i'm at a place emotionally where i can function normally. there's not this weird, clamped tension in my heart when his name comes up. there's no longer that desperate, pinched neediness to the interaction. instead, i look at him and i see, well, him, sitting across from me. i see a way to a peaceable future. maybe not the one we'd imagined, or even the one i'd imagined, but a good, pleasant co-existence.

there's hope. there's a chance. and by god, that's all i need.

drive

one benefit of this insane week has been that i've had a rental car at my disposal. as much as i love walking, metro trains and the urban lifestyle, there is precious little in my life that i enjoy more than getting behind the wheel of a car. i've had a license for 13 years; this is the second extended stretch of time over that entire period that's found me carless.

the first time, i was a freshman in undergrad, seventeen years old, and living in a teeny little mountain town in virginia. alone for the first time, i thought i had everything well in hand. but then the walls of the teeny little mountain town started to close in on me. my world, which had never really been that big (i mean, there's only so much you can see in small-city alabama in the mid- to late-1990s), suddenly shrank to about three miles square. and there was no. way. out. i was stuck. every little problem became massive, and with my adolescent coping skills being, well, stunted beyond all belief, i reacted about as well as you'd expect: i freaked out.

so here i sit again, on the other side of over a decade of life experience, carless. this time it's different; i'm old enough to attain several means of escape, and i have a tight web of close friends and family to support me should i freak out again. but tonight, i took to the roads of my city, cruising around with no real agenda. i let my mind wander far and wide (the results of this wandering, by the way, will be seen later on this week; i'm brewing up a nice writing project which will debut here in pieces in august), and it was simply heaven. i've always thought so well while driving. it's one of the few places in my life where i know i can think clearly and without interruption. i used to go on long drives with my cell turned off. there was a freedom in being completely unreachable.

behind the wheel, you are 100% free to do whatever you want. i realized driving back last night that, if i so desired, i could have gone anywhere i wanted. there was nothing holding me back. in my new life, i miss that feeling. it's one to be savored.

bonus post: thank you!

still kinda wired, but i am in bed at home now. blog-land friends, y'all have been smashing throughout this torture session known as my bar-exam summer. now that it's over, i want to thank every single one of you for how supportive you've all been. it's been hugely reassuring thinking about my little band of buddies out here in the world rooting for me. (i did, with no exaggeration, think of y'all at one point during today's testing, and it gave me a boost when i was struggling.)

so thanks. it means a lot to me, more than i can express. :)

whew

just a quick check-in from the road. on my way home now. it was a long two days. i feel... well, it's hard to say. not awful. i did what i needed to do. now, we wait. and now, for four glorious weeks, my time is mine.

bring it on. :)

halftime

oh boy. not much to say tonight; my hand hurts from writing. it went OK. i rocked a couple of questions, muddled my way through others. i didn't walk away feeling like i wanted to die, but i didn't feel like a million bucks, either. so tomorrow is the last day. the multistate bar examination. 200 multiple-choice questions. what multiple choice has to do with being a lawyer is beyond me, but whatever. it is what it is. so back to the books for a quick read-through one last time, making sure i can remember the tricks and keep my focus. i can do this. i will do this.
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and now, a little self-congratulation. for those who haven't seen this, i have written my very first guest post as a blogger. i'm kinda proud. check it out for yourself at secret society of list addicts. i'm even capitalized for once. :)

game face

"this is it. don't get scared now." - macaulay culkin as kevin mcallister, home alone

we're now less than 12 hours from the bar exam. one more brief refresher read-through, then it's to bed with this little girl. of course, i had to have chosen the hotel full of not just harley riders, but high-school cheerleaders. it's a touch noisy. but i mean, would i really have slept the sleep of the just in any hotel? this is serious nerves time.

or is it? to be honest, i am not that freaked. oh, don't get me wrong; i am nervous. but it's mostly about tactics, gamesmanship, etc. i know i know this stuff. i went through three years of law school. i also went through two months of concentrated preparation. seriously, when i wasn't in someone else's bed, i was at the kitchen table, poring over essays and outlines. it's been a very binary summer in that regard. the knowledge is in my head. it's just a manner of getting it to flow from my brain, through my pen and into those blue books. (no, i'm not typing the exam; though i might look like a prolific typist, i am slow and inaccurate. it's longhand all the way.)

so it's time to get psyched. head down, eyes up. like knights of old, let's fight to hold the glory of the purple and gold. let's carry through. let's die or do. to win the game for dear old... well, for me. for my future. for everything i've always wanted. this is the last test, the final boss. time to slay the dragon...

out to stud

i sat on the edge of his bed and chatted blithely with him until he was awake enough to drive me home. i would've walked, but it's too damn hot, and besides, he offered. usually, these moments are shot through with some form of wanting, hoping, wishing he'd see more to me than he does. not this time. i just took him for what he is for once in my life: the friend who knows my ins and outs, who respects me and cares for me the best way he knows how.

racing animals have short careers. elite racehorses are put out to stud shortly after their fourth birthdays. why? because it's tiring beyond belief chasing a nearly unattainable goal. some of these poor animals run themselves into their graves with exhaustion. others retire peacefully. knowing when to say when is the difference between life and death. so i throw up my hands. i'm no longer willing to exhaust myself this way. i've made this declaration before, and i swore i meant it those times, too.

but i sit here tired, pushed to the brink from stresses internal and external. i am at my weakest right now. these are the times when my resolution fails, when i get sad and lonely, when i seek comfort and start imagining a future that will never be as perfect as my mind can create it. even in this weakened state, i think about him and, finally, don't feel that old pinch around my heart. i just don't want to go there. not now. and hopefully that means not ever.

i care so much about him. but he's not for me. i know it intellectually. i think, at LONG last, that's starting to seep into my emotions. i think i've managed to convince my heart to listen to my head. not a moment too soon. i won't chase him anymore. the race is over.

sickness and health

i am one uncomfortable blog proprietor today. let's just say that between the bar exam drama and the life drama, i ignored a little problem until it became a full-blown disaster, and i spent all. damn. morning. hanging out in the urgent care clinic. nice. so after much antibiotic and painkillers, i am now in bed, about to start the sleep i missed out on last night.

haha. last night. see, here i thought i was going to prove to myself that i could be a big girl and stay in. yeah, that didn't happen. i ended up at a friend's place, watching TV until all hours of the night. i felt a little under the weather, but nothing i couldn't handle. we watched "the hangover" again, just some mindless entertainment, and before you know it, oh-ho, it's 3:00 AM and the trains aren't running anymore. oh, damn; he's been drinking, so he can't drive me home. looks like i'm staying out here tonight.

i don't think i need to tell you what happened next. i mean, nothing earth-shattering; he's not my sexual crack cocaine boy (from whom i am abstaining at the moment - another time), so it's not the kind of experience that needs to be recounted in great detail. but it was a nice diversion from the stress of the exam. i dozed off in his bed around 5:00 AM... only to awaken at 10:45 AM in some of the most intense pain it's ever been my misfortune to experience. so i did what every red-blooded american girl would do in this context: hey, friend i just slept with? lend me your car so i can drive to the doctor. it's best to do this when the boy is sleeping, so his defenses are down.

so that was my day: hours in the doctor's office, cursing my own stupidity and trying not to curl up into a little ball and throw a temper fit out of pain. lovely. but it's funny; when i returned the car, he was still asleep. i walked up to his room and woke him, mostly to tell him about my misadventures, and he said, "you shouldn't take the train home. i'll drive you." now that's what friends are for.

in sickness and in health. hmm. maybe that's not just a throwaway line from the marriage vows the churches lay on us. maybe it's more like the governing rule of friendship: stick together, sickness or health, no matter what. that's a nice thought, and he's a nice guy. i'll have to remember that...

one is the loneliest number

i claim to be tough. in a lot of ways, i am. i've been through a lot and i'm still standing. but if you scratch me deeply enough, you'll get to my core, and you don't have to go as deeply as i wish you did to find it. long story short, i am not as strong as i think i am, or even as strong as i purport to be. this is never more obvious than on friday evenings.

as it gets dark out and the weekend begins, i start to get really edgy if i don't have somewhere to be, somewhere to go. i haven't quite let go of that mentality that weekend nights are for youthful socializing, and if you're not out doing something, you're missing out. now that it's just me, and i don't have someone at the house who's always there to talk to or go out with, this feeling's gotten 100 times worse. i know i just need to soldier through it, bite the bullet, snuggle up with some netflix streaming stuff and realize that life doesn't end because you spent a night in. but that doesn't change this feeling of, "oh, my god, i am alone. there's no one here to talk to and i am alone. ALONE." the walls close in.

i have friends. good ones. i know this. but friday night alone makes me feel like the most unloved person on the planet. it's totally irrational, but that's the way it is. maybe that's why i backslide, looking for companionship in all the wrong places. it'll get better soon, i know it will; i'll grow used to my new lifestyle. i haven't spent a weekend alone in a long, long, long, LONG time. time will make this better.

right?

monteleone (a flight of fancy)

oh, you spin me right round, baby, but not like a record. you spin me like the carousel bar, that bastion of pure NOLA weirdness in the "quiet" part of the french quarter. the captain and coke only puts a fine point on the dizzy good vibe of this cool november evening, generated largely from that slow, measured rotation, experienced for hours on end. you almost forget that you're turning, but you are. the kindly old eccentric on your right side insists on giving us his blessing for our evening's activities, another classic NOLA moment. in new orleans, your secrets are never just your own. but we sit and laugh, spinning in more ways than one.

you flatter my ego; i flatter you back. you lose that layer of cool, that polish you always carry, and give in to the absurdity. no one knows us here; we're just two more strangers. it feels like something out of a tom waits song. you expect the bartender to have a tattooed tear for every year he's away, except that this isn't ninth and hennepin. but the patrons do have that sort of weathered patois in their voices, that slightly less than above-board sensibility that every good adventure bar should have. this is the city that care forgot, after all.

maybe that's why you feel so free. well, that and your johnnie walker black. but you wear it so, so well. you get looser and looser with each rotation around the room. you laugh easier, you indulge that battered old codger and his tales of gridiron glory from far longer ago than anyone in the room would have the rudeness to admit. you take to ordering my drinks for me, your repressed southern gentleman instincts flowing forth as easily as the bourbon flows into my glass. and you touch me so openly, in ways you never would if this night weren't so singularly constructed. you lock eyes with me, stroke my cheek with the side of your hand and proclaim, "anything for you." we'll debate the truth of that line later; it's irrelevant right now. this night sparkles with the surreality of the surroundings. when you take me out of this reverie and back into the harsher, less well-crafted narrative of the outside world, you won't wait for the hotel room to show me what you're after. you'll trace the back of my neck with your finger as we wait for the elevator, and as we ride up, up, up, you'll start right there what you intend to finish behind the locked door down the hall. you've been filled with the spirit of the night, that bar, that sepia-toned conception of what every louisiana evening should be: a hazy, liquor-soaked dream, where the lines of the real world curve where they'd ordinarily be straight.

tonight, you surrender to the fantasy. and it's as close as you'll ever come to surrendering to yourself.
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this piece is based on a real bar in the hotel monteleone on royal street in new orleans. i've explained my love for NOLA a few times before. this is my stab at trying to bottle the magic, the je ne sais quoi that resonates in the air down there. ain't no doubt, cher bebe.

behind blue eyes

"but my dreams, they aren't as empty as my conscience seems to be... my love is vengeance; it's never free."

i am, outwardly, a friendly, warm and genial person. if you win my loyalty, i will fight and die for you. i will often subsume my needs if i think your needs are greater. i love those whom i love fiercely, protectively, passionately. i give, give, give, give, give. all. the. time. if you've earned my trust and look into my blue eyes, you'll see true-blue dedication and a willingness to do whatever it takes to make you happy.

but lately, that fierceness, that loyalty, comes with a certain edge. there are some places in my life where, suddenly, i don't feel like giving as much as i used to. that's the main reason i'm on my own right now. but it's also starting to seep into my other recreations. we've talked a bit more this summer than i know he would care to about things between us. i mean, it's not like they've been really substantive conversations; that's not how he rolls. but i've managed to squeeze some things out.

we make strange pillow talk when we're together. sometimes, when we're regaining our composure, we talk about nothing in particular. other times, we manage to get into these weird emotional places where it's probably not a good idea to go when you're lying naked in someone's arms. but that's where we went the other night, regardless of the intelligence of it. he was flush with the ego boost of producing multiple orgasms out of me, and he was crowing about what he knows about me physically, what he can do with me. so i pushed him, asking, "all right, big man; what do you know about me emotionally?" stupid question; i pushed too far. i finally heard precisely how i come off when i think i'm being passionate: "when you care about someone, you'll do almost anything to ingratiate yourself to that person."

ingratiate. what a word. conjures up servitude, subjugation, and generally lowering yourself to elevate someone else. how hard. how blunt. here i thought i was being a good friend. apparently, i just look pathetic. i felt something clench when that word came out of his mouth. i let it go at the time (in fact, i responded to this by going down on him), but the more i think about it, the angrier it makes me. to be told once that my loyalty is one of the things that's most valued about me, and then to be told that the very same loyalty makes me look like a charity case? i'm undone.

i think i need a new strategy. i think, as part of the reinvention process, i need to take a good, hard look at the way i love. i can't see myself giving up loyalty; it's something i value in others, so i see no need to totally dispatch that quality in myself. but what i am going to do, at least with him, is change the way that loyalty is expressed. there's going to be a sharpness to the way i love him. there's not going to be any more ingratiation. that girl is dead, as far as i'm concerned. what there will be is a new reality.

my sex is submission. but my love is vengeance. and it will never be free again.

a note from management

i love my readers. y'all are awesome. i started blogging because i like to write, but i don't have the time anymore to sit down and devote hours to hitting the keyboard and developing larger pieces. i also like the feedback i get with these exercises.

so it's with y'all in mind that i wanted to tell everyone about a change in... tone, i guess it'd be. with all the changes in my life of late, i'm finding my writing interests skewing towards territory that's decidedly more adult than it was when i started. i'm not going to become a sex blogger; there are people in this world [case in point] who do that way better than i ever could. but i am going to explore some things that are part of my new reality. just a heads-up to those of you who might be more sensitive to that sort of thing. i don't want to startle anyone.

your not-so-good girl may very well be going bad. heads up.

liminal

liminal. adjective. 1) pertaining to a threshold or entrance; 2) relating to a beginning or the first stage of a process.

being the chronic examiner of my past that i am, i've spent a huge amount of time thinking about the moments in my life that have tripped switches, triggered changes and started me on various paths. more often than not, these examinations have started in the midst of crises or problems, usually focused on, "my god, how did i get here?" kinds of inquiries. really fun, let me tell you.

but not this time. not even close. this time, my liminal moment is... well, intriguing. interesting. my curiosity is piqued beyond belief. such a small thing - words exchanged on a sticky summer night - but oh, so fraught with options. the best kind of options at that: the kind without expectations, rules, etc. all i need to do, all i feel compelled to do, is to ride the wave and watch this unfold.

so. many. possibilities. i can't wait to see what happens next. the threshold's crossed. what's on the other side?

the river

"is a dream a lie if it don't come true, or is it something worse?"

i'm winding down a fabulous weekend escaping stress by studying constitutional law and watching a bruce springsteen concert film. i have a long and complicated history with the music of bruce springsteen, and during this particular tour, they did an alternate arrangement of the river, one of my favorite songs in the entire catalogue. this line in particular has sneaked up to blindside me from time to time over the last couple of years, as i face a path littered with the shards of broken dreams and a planned future dismantled.

but when i think about it, i'm not sure it's either, really. i mean, i guess i was telling lies when i said i'd never leave, that i'd be there forever. but how was i to know that? somewhere in the tragedy, buried under the piles of regret and the things you swore would never be your reality, is the tiny silver glint of something, well, better. it's hope. it's possibility. it's rebirth. and it's the knowledge that there are just no guarantees. just do the best you can. walk forward. make amends.

you can't be responsible for another person's happiness. all you can do is tend to your own needs and be as kind as you can. it's not a lie if you dream something that can't come to pass. it's just another day.

give and take

[it's disclaimer time again. this one's gonna get dark, it's gonna get VERY adult. i have some depths-plumbing to do. so for the benefit of those who either don't like the dark stuff or just don't want that much information, i'm putting this entry behind a jump. proceed if you want to; skip if you don't.]

fire and rain

this is a bittersweet day for me. this would've been my mom's 58th birthday. i've written about her before, what happened, how she got sick and how she went. but i'm not really interested in focusing on the end of things. it sucks that she was so plagued with illnesses mental and physical over her life. but there was a lot of good in that woman, and i miss her on days like this.

she was a force of nature when she had her wits about you. so damn brilliant. no one could compete with her brain. (i like to think i take after her in that.) when i graduated from law school in may, my dad and i had about five minutes to ourselves in the midst of familial insanity, and he said to me, "your mom would've been so damn proud of you." that was probably the most meaningful thing i was told during all of that. she wanted to go to law school, but it never happened. she taught kindergarten and worked as a legal secretary instead. she'd have been great at it.

when she left us, i played the live version of "fire and rain" by james taylor from his album one man band on a non-stop loop for about a week. i thought i'd have more time. don't we all. but i've since made peace with what's happened. she's free. that's what matters. i have my memories of her, and i have the knowledge that i've done right by her legacy. i've grown into what she wanted for me. that's enough for me.

top of the world, mom.

torn up

whew, what a freaking dog of a day. i have been running, running, running. and in 3" heels, nonetheless. nine hours of bar review, a networking event and househunting, all on foot. i looked good doing it, if i do say so myself; i was dressed for this networking thing without time to change at all, so i had to be pulled together.

i love these shoes: green, round-toed T-strap heels. fun while still professional; just edgy enough to be interesting. but i sit here writing to you tonight in some pretty serious discomfort. i must've walked 2 miles today, and my feet are paying the price. but you know something? i looked the part. i was dressed to professionally kill and it helped my acumen in class. i was able to navigate the event alone with a smile, chatting up lawyers from the area with no real agenda other than to get noticed. i may have (if there's a just and loving deity in this world) even found myself a really ideal living situation.

and i smiled and i sold it, even though the pain was exquisite. it's a lesson, i guess - struggle, grace under fire, etc. also, maybe bring some better commuting shoes. but even though my feet are just torn up right now, my heart is surprisingly light. i lived. there's something to that.

[smile]

my life these days, by necessity, is quite small. i study, and i take an occasional break from the crushing weight of the biggest test i'll take in my life. but every so often there are small moments of simple transcendence that sweep in and remind me that everything's going to be okay. i got one of those today.

it's been a pretty rotten day, frankly. i woke up early feeling rotten after being up late feeling stressed. i dozed, i took a phone call, then i hit the books. i ran an errand that did not end well, and then, nerves shot beyond all recognition, i set out for dinner with my stepmom. i settled down over dinner, but i was still feeling really frayed and weary.

then i took a cab home. (my stepmom didn't want me to walk from the train alone. sweet, eh?) and the cab driver and i had a fabulous, warm and hilarious conversation about life in the metro DC area. he dropped me off, and i am now ready to spend another hour or so working. nothing like a little recharge like that to get me out of my head and remind me what matters.
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hey. how 'bout this - it's my 100th post. i'd like to take this time to thank y'all out there in blog-land. i've had a fabulous time getting to know my readers, discovering other people's work and generally taking advantage of this side of the internet. here's to many, many more. stick with me; it'll be fun. :)

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.

settle

i am learning, slowly but surely, what works for me and what doesn't. that's my favorite part of this whole process: finally figuring out what i alone need to get by. i'm realizing that it's going to be a rougher year than i may have anticipated. but it's nothing i can't handle. as my plans for the next 12-15 months start to crystallize, i'm learning the difference between managing expectations and settling for less.

for too long, i was all about settling for less. the middle way, the mediocre, the path of least resistance. the dull numbness of the center. i think it's pretty apparent that i have altered that frame of mind. i shook it up big-time by going to school again. now that i've earned that degree and stare down my next challenge, it's uncomfortable. i am damn tired of long days cramming for this stupid test. but the pain of this test, even though it's exquisite and annoying, is so much better than the dullness of showing up for another day at a job that just wasn't getting it done. the financial pinch of the next year will be tight, but it'll also be worth every last bit of the struggle when i am free.

i was told the other night, when i was in the middle of a lament about how much all of this has sucked, that "you are on the verge of getting absolutely everything you have ever wanted." it didn't really sink in at the time, but it's starting to creep in on me. yeah, there will be more pain. but after that, there will be more than i ever could have imagined. so i'll manage expectations. i'll live small.

but i will NEVER settle. never, ever again.

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.

recidivism

so i've done all this big talk about moving on, breaking chains, and generally reclaiming my life. it was all going so well.

then he called. all progress gone.

sigh. i really will never learn. sad part is, i don't really want to learn, i think. there is just too much good that comes from this arrangement. if i can recalibrate my expectations to line up with his, this will be perfect. as it stands, this is almost perfect, but for that one... little... thing.

as backsliding goes, there could be worse things to do. but it's still backsliding. as long as i can recognize it, i can at least accept the consequences.

fun

puritan work ethic would dictate that i sit in this chair and slave over my notecards and outlines without a single thought for my sanity or my happiness. that's the important thing, right? slave to the grind. nose to the stone. tend those fields, girl.

heh. good thing i'm not a puritan. stepping out for a well-earned study break. fun is VITAL to my life. all work and no play not only makes me a very dull girl, but interferes with my ability to work.

so i'll catch y'all later down the road. going out to enjoy my evening. :)

fevered ego

i interrupt this fun night of memorizing elements of hearsay exceptions and watching the nationals lose to touch on a subject near and dear to my heart - egotism. it's not a word with which i'm unfamiliar. i've been tarred with that brush a time or two. i mean, hell; this is my favorite shel silverstein poem:

i love myself
i think i'm grand
i go to the movies
just to hold my hand
i wrap my arms around my waist
and when i get fresh i slap my face

but as much as i adore myself, i cannot fathom the depth of thoroughly unnecessary onanism that is going on over at ESPN tonight with lebron james. this is the height of spectacle, and why? because it's freaking BRON-BRON! we are all WITNESSES or something! gaah. no thanks. and not just because i'm not a fan of his to begin with. it's so much more.

i like baseball, football and hockey. those are team sports at their cores. yes, technically, basketball is too, but under the reign of david stern, the sport has become all about THE SUPERSTAR. the NBA essentially exists as a group home for fevered egos and drama queens. it's appalling. drew brees is my quarterback, but without tracy porter, it's suddenly not so clear that the saints win super bowl 44. the yankees won the series, true, but who was the MVP? hideki matsui. my beloved ovie is a god on the ice, but the capitals' best weapons have names like brooks laich and semyon varlamov.

but in basketball, it's all about the god. and bron-bron is god. so that's why the sports world is being told to stop on a dime to watch him tell us all where he's going to play next year. well, no thanks. you're not bigger than the game. i won't buy in. i'll watch my local last-place baseball team try to get it together and win tonight, and i'll watch them do it as a unit. as raging an ego as i can be, even i know when to say when.

when.

and now, gazpacho

so it's pretty clear by now that i am a woman of passions. i don't do it halfway, ever, no matter what it is, even when it's not a good idea. as samuel l. jackson once said in the criminally underrated 187, "if you're going to be stupid, don't be half-ass stupid, be all the way stupid!" i don't half-ass anything.

so tonight, i did something i dig. i cooked a real honest-to-god meal, 100% from scratch. i made the biggest bowl of gazpacho you have ever seen in your life. and if i do say so myself, it was quite delicious. i'll be enjoying this stuff for a week or more. (hint: if you make it for yourself, cut the salt in half, leave out the kalamatas, and use white balsamic vinegar instead of red wine vinegar. i love me some ina garten, but too. much. salt.)

so no drama, no angst, no revelations or great truths. just tomatoes, onions, cucumbers and peppers. happy summer, y'all!

validation

sometimes, the universe comes through for you in ways you just never saw coming. today was the bar review "mid-term," so to speak - a SEVEN-HOUR mock-up of the second day of the virginia bar exam. yuck, yuck, yuck. i slogged through it, knowing i am not close to where i want to be in a couple of subjects, and came home just enervated as hell, not wanting to look at a law book. i wanted to drink wine and read a novel instead of attacking the books again.

then i checked the mail. i got my certificate of appreciation from my externship class from last semester at school, but there was something else in the envelope along with it. turns out that a huge project i did during that three months at the court has now become binding precedent - in other words, the law - in the circuit where i worked. let me tell you, there is NOTHING cooler to a law dork such as myself as knowing that words i drafted are going into the southern reporter, to be researched and potentially cited someday.

this is why i do what i do. this is exactly why i kill myself like this. i am going to be a lawyer. i love the law, i love working with it, and i love the results of what i do. so thank you, universe, for the supreme reminder of why i'm sitting here surrounded by notecards and outlines on this hot summer night. you've saved my drive, my motivation and my satisfaction with my chosen profession. i needed that.

self-evident

it was a splendid weekend in our nation's capital, spent in the company of my favorite people. we drank, we socialized, and we enjoyed each other's company. and it's funny; one of my friends did me the greatest possible favor she could this weekend just by getting drunk with me and asking some questions.

this was not a conversation i necessarily wanted to have, mind you. the things she asked me were things i've kept unspoken and as hidden as possible for years now. but she just wanted to know what was going on, catching up on the situation and confirming some things she'd suspected. and as she asked me these questions, and i answered her, a funny thing happened. i started asking myself some questions about the answers i was giving. i gave her a complete and accurate description of the situation as it actually is (i mean, she guessed a lot of it. it wouldn't have been right to lie), and as i heard myself speak, i thought, you know, the things you're saying to her are true, and they are also completely insane. if you were listening to this, you would take the speaker by the shoulders and shake her, telling her how crazy she is for dealing with this.


the party ended last night, and the hangover with which i greeted today was vicious. but once i got it out of my system and started dressing for the day, i looked at the situation i was in with a new twist. i looked around and said to myself, this has simply got to stop. there's no good that comes from this anymore. and all it took to slap me across the face and wake me the hell up was a couple of awkward questions late at night on the patio of a bar, drinking cheap beer and catching up with friends.

so thanks for the perspective, hon. you've saved me from myself in a way i didn't realize i needed to be saved. certain truths should be self-evident, but when they're not, it's the best service you can give someone to gently point that out.

let freedom ring

happy 234th, america. you're a fabulous country, full of spirit, bombast and outsized attitude. that often gets you in trouble, but it's also what makes you great. you're founded on all the right things - openness, equality, opportunity - and it only takes a little prodding to get you to remember that. within reason, people can achieve stellar things in the american land.

so here's to ya, old girl. you're the country that formed me. here's to the people, everywhere here and abroad, who do great work to keep things as sane as possible. here's to the best and brightest of our national character winning out over the smaller, meaner threads of our crazy quilt. here's to fireworks, grilled food, adult libations and sunshine. here's to the stars and stripes. you've done all right for yourself over the last 2 1/2 centuries. let's keep the streak alive.

magnolia doin' work

so as i have whined about for a month-plus now, i am about to take the bar exam. that explains why it is a gorgeous saturday morning, blue skies, warm temperatures, low humidity... and i am sitting at my kitchen table with books open taking a study break by, well, whining some more.

if this were any other summer, i would still be in bed. i woke myself from a very nice slumber (with a very nice companion) to get dressed, walk back here and start studying. but it's not like this is a permanent situation; this time four weeks for now, i will be in the warm embrace of good friends, blowing off steam and drinking like it's the last night before prohibition. but for now, we work.

i've done everything in my power to make this process as painless as possible. but it's crunch time; no one can save me from the arduous task of learning enough law to be minimally proficient at it all for two days at the end of the month. sigh. so here we go into the breach. i'll do what i can to maintain my sanity. that's all i can do.

bonus post: blog games!

woo-hoo; 2 posts in a day! this is total birthday decadence. so here's the deal. the fabulous jessica has tagged me in a blog meme. and because a) it's my birthday, b) i hate studying real property and c) why the hell not, i'm playing! so without further ado, the great eight. (hell - it's a meme named after my beloved ovie. how can you go wrong?)

1.  What is your favorite board/party/card game?

trivial pursuit! trivial pursuit! and no one ever wants to play with me. we always end up playing asshole at parties. that's fun, too, but i really want to own everyone at trivial pursuit...

2.  What is your earliest memory?

i have this weird vestigial memory of standing in my crib looking at a fan in a window. i thought it was something i made up, but once i described it to my dad, and i apparently described my room at one year old to a T. weird.

3.  If you could witness one event that occurred prior to your birth, what would it be?

the march on washington, 1963. i did a giant protest in DC in '04 (the march for women's lives), and that was amazing enough. imagine being a part of something where there were real, fundamental human rights issues at stake...

4.  What is your favorite curse word?

ahahahaha. it's so great. my favorite swear word is "motherfucker." oh, it's so much fun to say. it feels like a load off just saying it. i am fond of just about every swear word there is, though. i have a filthy, filthy mouth.

5.  What is your main fault?

without question, i overanalyze everything. but all of y'all already know that. you read it here. i am worse in my personal life. i would also offer that law school has made me really addicted to order, which doesn't help the overanalysis thing at all.

6.  What turns you on?

a good-looking, brilliant man who flatters me. i MUST have a smart man. i love to talk about high-level things, all the time, and i cannot abide a guy who can't keep up. a good conversation is deeply stimulating to me.

7.  What is your idea of misery?

heh. that one's easy. misery is knowing what you have to do, knowing how much it's going to hurt, and not having the nerve to pull the trigger. you may as well run your soul over a cheese grater.

8.  What do you wish you knew more about?

i wish i knew more about using technology. my interest is deep; my knowledge base is SHALLOW. i'd like to be able to do a lot more with computers, web stuff, etc. than i can. 

whew. fun! ok, so now i have to spread the love. here's my group of tagged bloggers:

1. live. love. learn. breathe.

2. the daily dose of reality

3. the foggy dew

4. momma's pixie dreams

5. are you there, youth? it's me, nikki.

6. handbags and handguns

7. harriet and friends

8. to be determined

enjoy, folks! :)

midpoint

today is july 2. this is the exact, unequivocal middle of the common (non-leap) year. 182 days behind us, 182 days in front of us. this is halftime, kids.

and it is also my birthday.

a lot of other people share this day with me: rene lacoste (the tennis/polo shirt guy), thurgood marshall and medgar evers (civil rights heroes), dave thomas of wendy's, john sununu, larry david, jose canseco, lindsay lohan and johnny weir, among others. it's quite a day. hell, when i was a kid, i used to think of the whole 4th of july thing as a nice big protracted celebration of me and my life. i was truly disappointed when i was told that the fireworks were not for me. (yeah, i'm an only child.) regardless, there's always a party, people are generally in a good mood, and hilarity almost always ensues.

i come to this birthday - 29, the start of my thirtieth year of life - at a weird, unsettled place. i'm in the middle of the biggest ordeal of my professional life in studying for the bar. i'm in the middle of the end of something i expected to have forever. i'm in the middle of, for the first time since i was a teenager, really having to look myself in the eye and say, "okay. now what?" i'm in the middle of, well, the middle. it's mushy, it's unclear, and there's no clear path to a solution anytime soon on a lot of this. all i can do is keep up the slog.

there will be birthdays when things aren't so crazy. it's up to me to rise above the middle-ness of it all and reclaim my day. i stand alone in this moment and say, "yes, it's going to be OK. it's all going to be OK. so let's have a drink and celebrate." that, my friends, is the best gift i give myself this year.