don draper

so yeah, i'm late to the mad men party. sue me; i was in law school and not watching television. but i've picked up the show, as the man loves it. it's vaguely fascinating, though far from my favorite show ever. but the one thing i've picked up from the show, besides SERIOUS clothing lust (oh, for the time when big-busted, curvy women ruled fashion - i had to be born into the skinny-jeans era), is that we seem to be living in the era of the double life.

i saw the ex this weekend. we had a mutual obligation at a social event that required us to play pretend like nothing was nothing. of course it did. he, quite frankly, sucks at this. and let me tell you, there is nothing harder to handle than watching your heartbroken ex watching people get married. tears and tragedy. so cocktail hour came around, and i found myself in the awkward position of being elegantly dressed and standing before a crying man.

so what did i do? i put on the ice-queen front. i modeled perfect behavior for how non-emotionally-wrecked people behave in public. and as we walked back to the party to face our friends (for the last time, in my case), i turned to him and said loudly, "hey, thanks for helping me look for that." yeah, that's right. a cover story. just like on the show, when the woman goes into the man's office (they all do it, so pick your favorite couple), shuts the door, has this deep, meaningful moment, then opens the door and says something like, "i'll get right on that. thank you for your attention."

the good news is that i don't have to do this very much longer. the strain is starting to show. it's hard to be natural in the old mask when the new life is so comfortable, so nice, so... me. don draper chafes in his identity because the lie is so large. i chafe in my old identity because the chains are so heavy. the time is so close, however, to when i can cast the old ways aside and be who i have always been meant to be. i can't wait.

stranglehold

this is supposed to be the season of my liberation. i'm finally supposed to be free. i'm getting the last of my education, i'm in a brand-new relationship, and i'm on my way forward into my new life. but today, after some back-of-the-envelope math, i realized once and for all that my old life is just not going to let me go that easily.

translation: kids, your humble blog proprietor is 110% BROKE.

i've survived on a small amount of money before. hell, that's how i got through undergrad; i scraped by, barely eating anything, and it was fine. but this time, i've had eight years of adult life, which means eight years of adult debt to rack up. my rent and utilities will be covered, as will my phone bill. y'know, the important stuff. but when i was with my ex, we lived like, well, like idiot twenty-somethings, and now i am left holding the bag. i'm sure it shocks none of you that all of this stuff was in my name. boy, is that coming back to haunt me.

this is utterly terrifying. i literally have no idea what to do about this. i'm going to have to have a tough talk with my ex about giving me more money this year. that much is true. he's going to push back. i know it. it's going to be EXCRUCIATING. but more immediately, i'm going to have to figure out a way to get by. i have a very small amount of property to sell. i'm still waiting for my deposit check back from my old landlord (and i'm about to get REALLY ornery over it, too). but that's not going to help that much. i'm looking for work right now, which i think is a really scary proposition given how hard this program is, but i don't think i have a choice right now.

it'll be OK in the long run. i'll get through this one way or another. but that doesn't make this moment any less terrifying. the noose is around my neck. it's going to take some quick thinking to get it off. and in the meantime, the stranglehold gets a little bit tighter every second.

go get it

it's october already. holy hell. i have an exam in 11 days. (gaaaaah.) there's much to do in the next few weeks, and not all of it is academic. i mean, there will come a day when this professional student gig comes to an end and i begin to justify the mortgage i've taken out on my brain. so today i polished up the ol' resume, wrote some cover letters, jumped through some hoops and started applying to jobs.

i don't know if y'all are followers of current events, but you may have noticed we're in a teeny bit of an economic tailspin of totally biblical proportions. i have managed to time my graduation from all three of my post-high-school degree programs to coincide with just awful financial conditions. hell, i graduated from undergrad as part of the first post-9/11 class. 2010 was the year the legal industry as we knew it imploded, and while things seem more stable now, they've stabilized at a pretty bad level. used to be, and not that long ago at that, a law degree was a sure-bet ticket to a stable and comfortable life. there are too many of us out there with JDs now, and there are way, way too few jobs. it's pretty scary, especially when i think about the debt i've taken on to get my education.

damn it all, i went to law school because i like studying law. i liked being a summer law clerk, too. i like what i've observed of the practice. i truly believe in the goodness lawyers can do in this culture. (not a fan of lawyer jokes - just putting that out there.) i'm just getting a little nervous that the combination of a bad economy and a glut of people chasing paychecks will keep me from doing what i always wanted to do.

so here i go into the breach. i'm papering the universe with my resume: government gigs, judicial clerkships, etc., etc., etc. in 15 days, i'll know whether i passed the virginia bar exam. (unless someone calls the office to ask about results. sigh.) what i want is simple: i want my LL.M. i want to practice law. i want to earn a good living doing good work. and i will do EVERYTHING in my power to get it. i say this a lot, but i am on the verge of having every part of my life lined up and going well. it's time to go to work to make sure that stays true.

let's go get it.

universal truth

a few months back, i got some news that triggered this rant. (me? ranting? i know, right? shocking.) the prognosis was bad, and it made me scared, angry and frustrated. but every story has an ending, and this time, the forces of good are winning out. the affable-but-worthless fiance became the affable-and-trying husband. and somehow, some way, my kid cousin and her baby girl beat the odds today. the birth went down, and everyone's okay so far.

i've been vaguely terrified about what would happen ever since i found out about this. i mean, the rationalist, the logical thinker, looks at something like this and thinks, yeah, i have a bad, bad feeling about all of this. there's no way this will end well. and yet, here we are. i'm so incredibly relieved that the kids pulled it out. there's still a long row to hoe, and i'm still holding my breath (not to mention that now the kid's going to have to be raised - another story entirely), but the big threat passed over. whew.

i was with the man when i found out about my cousin going to the hospital. he held me, he rubbed my back, and he said, "you have to trust me; it's going to be okay." i said to him, because i knew he would understand this statement, "it's times like these when it's hard to be an atheist." i don't mean it's difficult to retain my lack of belief in the face of things like this. it's literally challenging to be faced with something this potentially tragic and to know that there's nothing you can do except hope for the best. my family, of course, will point to this all as a clear example of the intercession of a higher power. and i even succumbed to the temptation of seeking comfort in the non-existent by asking my religious friends to pray for her. i felt like i had to do SOMETHING, being a thousand miles away with no ability to do anything anyway.

but even that request made me feel like a sellout. i mean, why would prayers from others matter? it's all steps in a dance that's performed to music i just can't hear. it's comforting, i guess, to think that prayer, faith, etc. has any effect on what happens in this world. and it's a "comfort" i will never be able to experience. that's why it's hard to face things like this: there's no comfort found in it, just the cold realization that there's nothing you can do but hope for the best and prepare for the worst. all the beautiful words and heartfelt sentiment in the world can't change that. that's the universal truth.

shameless self-promotion, the sequel

today, i have a guest post over at the hindsight letters, a fabulous blog that you should all be reading. the concept alone is amazing: grown you writes back to teenage you, reflecting on a key decision that had a deep impact on your life.

as for mine... well. let's just say that things have changed since i composed this one. let me know what you think...

comfort food

oh, what a weekend for a louisiana-centric sports fan like myself. ooh, the stress that my alma mater and my beloved saints gave me. the only happy, and i use the term loosely, sports fan in my life today is the man, whose giants won the division. ugh. drama and more drama.

i salved my jangled nerves as i sometimes do. no, not with wine, though that's a good guess. i chose to make things better by pulling together one of my all-time favorite emotional tonics - red beans and rice. oh, man, there's nothing finer to ease my mind. back down south, you can get the beans in cans; all you have to do is make rice and nuke the beans. hell, if you're a hopeless slack-ass, you can even use instant rice (though i find that stuff a sin). here in the heathen mid-atlantic, though, it's an all-day affair. four hours of cooking and prep time, once it's all said and done.

sundays are for cooking large meals at the man's house, sharing my bounty with his friends and generally flexing my domestic goddess muscles. i get a huge charge out of it; they gush, i get proud. but this time, there was a level of emotional balm to the act of chopping, boiling and serving. when i'm stressed, as i usually am, i find release in things like cooking, cross-stitch, and really out-of-character traditional "womanly arts." there's a level of traditionalism to this relationship that i never saw coming. doors are held. drinks are purchased. i cook meals; he takes out trash. it's surprising, and what's even more surprising is how comforting i find this dynamic.

living in this new reality is comfort food for my tortured soul. whatever the source of the torture, this new relationship soothes me. there's love, companionship... there's everything i never knew i needed. i get to be exactly what and who i am, no questions. if i want to be suzie homemaker, i can. if i want to yell at les miles for ANOTHER STUPID CLOCK MANAGEMENT DEBACLE, i can. there's room. and there's no greater comfort than that.

still of the night

heavens preserve us, folks: the man has a cold.

this is not going to be one of those "OMG, men are SOOOO pathetic when they're sick, hee hee!" rants. the man is a stoic, pretty much all the time (except when we're alone). he bears his various crosses with a quiet resolve that i envy on basically an hourly basis. but even that stoicism can be a pain, especially when I show up all dressed to kill to go out, take one look at him, and realize, well, this was totally not necessary. sigh.

the upshot of this situation is that i got to fall into bed with him early and rest up. so that's what we did. we both needed the rest, so i drifted off early (for us, anyway) all wrapped up with my nyquil-dosed man. but a funny thing happened at one point. i woke up for a moment after a particularly odd dream (i mean, what girl doesn't dream of spending extended periods of time with rex ryan?), stirring in the darkness. he tightened his arms around me and kissed me on the shoulder. mmm. soothing. i settled back down, and just before i fully fell back to sleep, i felt his breath against me, whispering one small sentence in my ear.

"glad you're here."

the stoic reveals his heart in the subtlest of ways, when the risk is low and the reward is high. not that the man is cold; quite the contrary. he's physically demonstrative, supportive and loyal. but he's just not a talker. well, until now. at a vulnerable moment, when all he wanted was a little comfort, he got it. and he thanked me for it the best way he could: with a three-word summation of the love between us, whispered gently in the still of the night. i couldn't ask for anything more.

the difficult kind

the weather has finally broken. the air's been pregnant with moisture for days, just waiting to burst forth and drench us all. thankfully, this all occurred after i got home with my groceries and my 50-pound school bag. but more importantly, my mood has broken along with the storm outside. the leaden feeling in my chest, the numbness that enveloped me, has been replaced with something lighter, more encouraging. about damn time, too.

there's a tinge of reborn confidence in this new emotional state. i'm starting to internalize the good parts of the changes in my life, and not in a fleeting "thank god it's over!" kind of way. yeah, this process, now that it's real, is harrowing and painful. things will be said that hurt me more than i could imagine, but that's the only bullet he has left. but i know i'm already better for standing up and cutting the cord. i've owned up to my mistake. i've offered my mea culpa, too. that's all i can do. now the growth, the working on me, begins in earnest.

no one ever said this would be easy. i'm finding out just how hard it is, actually. loving and losing in such a spectacularly devastating fashion has made me someone different than i was before. but it's bringing out the good in me, in a way that's far more authentic than clinging to a glittering charade. it's just a shame that i can't share the change with him. if he could only see what love has made of me, but i'll no longer be in his life. what he'll remember of me, well, it almost makes me cry. but that's how it happens, i guess. that's the fallout, and that's his loss. the lessons of this will be well appreciated in those who stick around.

and you won't see the good in me. but, babe, i've changed.

heavy cloud, no rain

i haven't seen the sun since this weekend. whenever i've been out among the living, it's been heavily gray and dismal outside. that's been nice for the temperature; for those of us who walk everywhere we go, it's a welcome change from hot and humid. however, it's also an accurate reflection of my mood, and the cloud gets heavier as the days go by.

part of my come-to-jesus moment with the man sunday night involved the fact that i don't like to entangle the past with the present. i would much rather concentrate on moving forward. it's irritating to me that i'm as upset as i am over all of this, and it's infuriating that i can't keep a lid on it in his company. he doesn't deserve to have to pick up the pieces from someone else's destruction. but he insisted that i allow myself to feel whatever it is i'm feeling, whether or not he's there.

so i'm feeling it. and it's pretty damned rotten. as happy as i can be in the moment, and there's a lot to be happy about, my general head state is full of anger, sadness and fear. compound that with a double-barreled dose of just horrific circumstances in the lives of people i know, and that's a recipe for not wanting to leave my bed. but i do. i go out into the world and pretend like i'm 100% okay, laughing and joking with my friends. then the night ends, i come in and i close the door. that's when i drop the pretense, open the floodgates and just let it all come out.

relatively speaking, anyway. for the last two years, i've spent so much time acting like nothing was wrong that i think i've forgotten how to express emotion in any real way. i said in the moment that all i wanted to do was develop the ability not to give a damn. i did, but i think i've overachieved. when i admit to myself how upset i am, all i can do is conjure up this generically dull ache. it kills my focus, magnifies any physical pain and knocks me flat on my back. i am unable to do anything more than stare at the computer screen or the TV, taking in whatever is in front of me with no analysis or thought of any kind. i feel, but i can't process.

this kills me. it makes me want to do something - ANYTHING - to work out the pain. i thought i was past this sort of reaction. like every thinking person, i've had my bouts with depression, with serious mental issues. i feel myself creeping towards that place again. over my dead body will i let that happen again. so i'll put on my helmet in the morning, go back out there and show the world how strong i am. and i'll do my damnedest to find a good way to process this. it won't beat me. i won't let it.

clouds eventually blow away.

false dichotomy

i'm home, in bed, showered and ready to get some rest after a long and protracted weekend. and what a weekend it was, too. so many events, so many ups and downs. i thought i was done being two-faced; i had one more shot at the double life, though, and boy, was it one for the ages.

don't mistake me; it's trying as anything to put that old, tired costume on one last time. it was a long and arduous weekend, filled to the brim with emotional land mines. my heart was scarred, my perceptions were changed. the wounds i sustained hurt so deeply that they took my breath away. but the business of friday and saturday made it, strangely, easier to hide the cuts and bruises on my heart and soul. i was able to float through the role, following the playbook when no one else did (damn it, i said trips gun RIGHT; you're all going LEFT). i drank my wine and let the stress float to the back of my mind. i said my goodbyes, gathered my things and got in the cab.

as i slammed the door behind me and we sped back to the suburbs, i flipped the switch, threw off the mask, and stepped into the warm embrace of the life i choose, the life i love. and just like that, it was all made okay again. i took off the costume and became myself again. as saturday became sunday, the man took over, soothing me, loving me, making me remember why i've done what i've done.

with his arms around me, feeling the stillness of his breath against my neck as he slept, i finally succumbed to the pain of the weekend. the cuts bled, the bruises throbbed, and the tears flowed. i may seem made of stone, but even stone can break. sunday dawned cold and gray, the perfect mirror of my mood. i had to do a little more acting, but for once, i couldn't draw my audience into the illusion. he brought me to his room sunday night, looked me in the eye, and demanded my honesty. he got it, too. and again, he delivered nothing more than absolutely the proper reaction. he stilled the swirling confusion and hurt, replacing it with measured sanity and calm affirmation.

i no longer lead a double life. the break isn't clean; far from it. but the stark, unrelenting split of circumstance in this weekend proved what a false dichotomy my supposedly bisected life was, even in the days before i pulled the trigger. sure, there were two sets of events. but what i've seen in the last 96 hours is that the choice was never really a choice. there was only one path. and from this day forward, i will only have to walk that road.

it feels inviting. i can't wait to see where it goes.

god of love, hear our prayer

standing still for this is such an exquisite form of torture. how is it possible to feel pride, happiness, contempt and shame for a situation all at once? i will never understand how a few platitudes, heavily scripted in the name of spectacle and braggadocio, can stir such deep emotional currents. but here we are. the atheist, the whore, the charlatan, standing here in perfect character as a good upstanding woman of faith and charity. "god of love, hear our prayer." warm words of christian fellowship. touching.

i know how to wear the costume, the mask. i hit my marks perfectly, learn every line and recite them with a smile. i make this look good, too. but that's the fun of it, even though it kills me. i love knowing what no one else knows - while you stand here offering your blessing, showering godly praise on the happy family fabric woven before you, i am the agent of chaos. i stand in the midst of the fabric, slowly pulling threads at my whim and caprice. i am so far above all of this, and you'll never know.

that is, until the charade finally collapses, once and for all. my life is so beyond your traditional conceptions of reality. i want nothing more than to stand in the rubble and laugh at your woeful underestimation of my ruthless efficiency.

god of chaos, hear my prayer.

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?

gunner

i'm a veteran at this whole law-school thing. hell, i have a law degree and everything. you'd think that one more year of this would be painless and smooth. i mean, i'm in my element; i am studying my favorite subject matter, the one to which i am dedicating my professional life. i am at a world-class school, and i have every opportunity to be everything i want to be. but something's been just a little... off about this whole experience. we're four weeks in, and inside my program, i feel totally at ease and comfortable. tonight, it finally hit me exactly what the problem is in my new home.

it's that it's not really a "home." everyone's perfectly nice in the general population; no one's been outwardly cruel or horrible to me. but these kids are not interested in being a community. this is one of those schools where every person there, especially in the non-LL.M. crowd, is 100% out for himself or herself, and frankly, you're kind of in their way. this is such a misguided approach to law school, to the practice, and to life in general. good lord. i mean, it's not surprising, i guess. it's a whole school full of hardcore overachievers, people who have reached for the best all their lives. why stop now? it's gotten them everything they've ever wanted.

except it doesn't have to be that way. look, i'm a recovering overachiever myself. and i've spent a lot of time lamenting the time in my life when i settled. but there's a definite - and vitally important - difference between striving healthily for the best you can get and what these kids are doing. devoting yourself to the cold, ruthless pursuit of the next brass ring on your list, damn the torpedoes, is by far not the only way to get what you want. take it from me; above average effort nets you almost as much as bare-knuckles overwork, and it makes you a LOT happier.

so i look around at the overcompetitive, hyper-"friendly" gunner kids at my school with a combination of confusion and pity. it makes me sad for them, but it makes me feel that much better about my strategy for life. i may not be the valedictorian of my class. but i'll give this program my best. that means my best in academics, in culture, and in the bare recognition that i'm not the only person on the planet, in the city, in the school or in the hall. we all earned our way here. why not be friends?

sweatshirt

it's starting to get a little cold around the edges here in our nation's capital. a couple of nights this weekend saw the temperature sneaking below 50 degrees. i am a cold-blooded little blogger, apparently, because i FREEZE in weather like this. the man noticed this, and as i shivered next to him, he got up, went to his closet, and brought me back a big gray sweatshirt. i slipped it on and curled up in his arms, dozing off as he kissed my temple and stroked my hair.

this was a peaceful night. there weren't very many of those this weekend. i feel myself, as this process evolves, slowly starting to grow uneasy. scratch that; i'm scared out of my damn mind. hey, kid, you're all alone, and there's no stability left in your life, the voice in the back of my head tells me. get ready for a long haul. the man has known me since we were snotty little punk teenagers together. he knows that these sorts of swings will happen from time to time. but this feeling is a gut shot. i spent a lot of time being vaguely terrified, even as he did his best to show me how wrong the voice is.

so he held me. he talked me down. and it was an interesting kind of talking down, one that gave me pause. i'm accustomed to being showered with emotion, a constant source of... well, maybe not platitudes, but statements of unconditional positivity. the man doesn't traffic in that sort of display. i twisted his arm for some kind of verbal reassurance to silence the chattering critic in my head. instead, he calmly and rationally told me... the truth. it wasn't the blithe pablum of instant gratification i thought i wanted. but weirdly enough, it was perfect.

two things dawned on me at that moment. first, this relationship is built on something more than just a wildly careening net of emotion. the man expects me to stand on my own. he'll help me, he'll soothe me, but he won't carry me. we both have to be adults here. i said, almost to myself, "i miss being the center of someone's universe." he kissed me and said, "no. you don't. you're going to be what you want to be, and that's what matters. if i treated you like that, you'd get tired of it, just like you did before." aha. the light goes on.

but the other thing i realized is that the words the man says are secondary. the way he comforts me, the way he loves me, isn't with a string of sayings, cliches, etc. he tells me everything he needs to say with his gestures, his kiss, and most importantly, his presence. there's more love in that gray sweatshirt than there could ever be in a lifetime's worth of empty words. anyone can talk. he acts. and he silently wraps me in his love. i never knew that's what i needed, but i never, ever want to be without it.

fascination street

"oh, it's opening time down on fascination street, so let's cut the conversation and get out for a bit..."
leave it to the bad influence in me to drag you out tonight. you're so much more content to stay in the house and drink beer, but now that you're with me, you may be forced to take me out every once in awhile. i mean, you should be pretty damn proud to be seen with a woman like me. i cut quite an exceptional figure when i want to, and tonight i've really done it up right.

"because i feel it all fading and paling, and i'm begging to drag you down with me to kick the last nail in."
i've lived a hard life the last couple of years. i've drank too much, gambled too hard, and you've been complicit in all of it. i'm better now; a lot more stable, a lot more sanguine. but there are still these dark rivers of mood in me that need to be worked out in the worst kinds of ways. so you're still on the hook. take me out tonight. take me anywhere, i don't care, i don't care, i don't care.

"yeah, i like you in that, like i like you to scream, but if you open your mouth then i can't be responsible for quite what goes in or to care what comes out..."
sometimes the mood so strikes, and i turn into someone else when it happens. this is one of those nights. i like to watch you watch me work, watch me pin you to the spot with my eyes. you're going to be mine tonight, and while you knew that before you came here, you don't know what dark secrets i'm going to unleash on you. you'll bleed for me before this night is done, figuratively if not literally. i like you this way: on your toes, cautious, unsure. you're usually the one with all the confidence, all the control. but you're going to see how the other half lives once i get enough champagne in me. you've been the boss long enough. i hurt tonight; because i do, you're going to hurt as well.

"and let's move to the beat like we know that it's over..."
it's not really your fault. you've done the best you could to reassure me. but you know what? sometimes the darkness is stronger than the force of your will. and that's why i've got you out here tonight. you'll endure this, because i'm worth it to you. you're actually dancing with me, following the lead i give you. that's the way it works tonight. and you'll eat it up like sugar candy, because i told you to. that's the twist i want, and it's what you'll give me. this may as well be the last night on earth for the way i feel. i will get what i want. and that's you, on your knees for me.

someday, you will ache like i ache. and that day is now. feel it. feel it all. that's the only way you'll know what you've gotten yourself into.

you've gotta have friends

no fiction today, kids: this is 100% real.

it's been a long, hard couple years for me on the emotional front. even as i finished law school and all my professional ambitions came true, my relationship, the one steadfast truth i had throughout my very trying early 20s, became something that, let's face it, didn't work anymore. i was rocked to my core when i realized that. i was in denial. i said things and did things that were completely at odds with my emotions, whatever they happened to be at any given time.

long about january of this year, i decided that writing in my journal and talking to my shrink wasn't cutting the mustard anymore. i needed a more public forum to work through the psychic upheaval. i didn't want to spill the details all over the internet in uncensored form, so i settled on the format you know and love today. largely true, partially fiction. composite characters, wildly extrapolated situations, etc.

and lo and behold, i built it and y'all came. that was a really exciting thing for me: holy hell, people read my work and like it. and as i wrote, things in 100% real life became clearer. through the process of interacting with y'all, telling my story, i came to realize what had to be done. finally, after all my hemming and hawing, i pulled the trigger this week. i am moving forward with my life, trying to catch my emotions up with my professional progress and, y'know, get happy.

so i have to thank everyone here. my little band of readers and friends from far and wide has sustained me through this dark season. in all honesty, even those of y'all who are only known to me through aliases and avatars have been indispensable as i've sorted all of this out. i will always remember the kindness you've shown me as i've blown my life apart and started to rebuild it. you've all played a role in the process. so as i move forward, i plan on keeping y'all updated, spinning my little yarns and dissecting my heart and soul through the art and science of badly-capitalized internet-based essays. i hope y'all stick around. you're all pretty important to me.

thanks, y'all. couldn't have done it without you.

my apology

[your soundtrack]

"it’s not the way that i intended this; i didn’t realize how much i would miss, but with every parting of our company i hate to think what it has done to me..."

you're never far from my mind, you know, no matter how good i am at keeping you at bay. (you weren't wrong about the arm's-length treatment; it's a very good coping mechanism.) i do not have a single regret about this course of action. it's the best thing for both of us, it's what i want, and it's what i need. but that doesn't mean that it's not sad, way sadder than i ever imagined, to see this day finally arrive. not that you'd know how i feel today if you look at me. i'm really skilled at moving forward when i have to, and this is one of those times. but there's a small frayed place in my soul, torn a little more each time, that belongs to you and will forever.
 

"when cruelty comes with blind indifference, my humanity becomes the best defense. but when you consider the alternative, i really didn't have that much to give..." 

that's the crux of all this where you and i are concerned, i think. i didn't try to be cruel or indifferent to your needs in pursuing mine; i am trying desperately to maintain things as well as i can, but in being true to my humanity, i've inadvertently destroyed yours. sigh. at the end of the day, as it turns out, you were better at being a part of this relationship than i was. i gave you as much as i had to give you. looks like it wasn't what even i thought it would be. i failed at the modest task which was my charge, and that was simply being enough of a selfless person to make room for your flaws. 

"a tragic victim of my circumstance; never give the devil a second chance. if you do, you know that you can never win - probably best to forget and begin again..."

so here we are. we lost. fitting that all of this comes to an end this week, so many years after we pledged ourselves to each other in the sorrow and confusion of the falling of the towers. we clung to each other in the wake of the madness, when everything permanent was stripped down to its skeletal remains and the harsh reality of the loss we faced collided with our adolescent immortality. funny how that's not really a great way to build a future, isn't it. i dedicated myself to you with passion, intensity and a total lack of thought. that's the real reason we lost. there's nothing to be gained from clinging to scraps. time to box up the memories, the laughs, the ups, the downs and put them in the back of the closet, to be looked through on the occasional rainy day with something approaching warm nostalgia. the bitter will slowly leach out of the sweet. at least, that's my hope. 

consider this a statement of, not conciliation, but sorrow. i didn't want this to be the way things ended. hell, up until recently, i didn't think there would be an end. but here we are. we've reached the conclusion. and for everything i've done, and god knows i've done a lot, i'm sorry. i let you down. there's no way to recover from it, either. all i can do is give you this.

"can’t you see that I am sorry? this has to be my apology, my apology, my apology."

melt your heart

they say alcohol is truth serum, the only real kind that exists. i know it's true in my case; when i have a bit to drink, i tend to 'fess up to whatever's going on in my head. sometimes this is good. other times, this is obnoxious. but most of the time, it's somewhere in between: that weird gray area between necessary and comfortable.

we had a nice, long talk last night. i don't know where it came from. i think it was the crazy acceleration of my life-change timetable, but something had me feeling kinda sped-up and unsure, like the ground underneath me was sliding around under my feet. i want to be so careful with him; he's such a vital piece of my life, and i don't ever want to be without him. he's so wired into my soul that it makes me... well, the feeling is equal parts bliss and terror, i think. i am so incredibly at peace when he wraps his arms around me and kisses me. i want to hold onto this feeling forever.

so i did what the wine told me to: i spilled my guts. and once again, i had it shown to me in no uncertain terms that honesty is the very best policy when you're dealing with something this important. he can settle my soul and melt my heart with a single sentence. he deals in an economy of words; unlike me, when things are important, he will not make grand, sweeping declarations. this not only gives his words more power, it gives me confidence when he does say something to me. he shows me what he feels, and that's what matters. the rest? window dressing.

the truth is in his kiss, his touch, and even his cautious nature. we tread lightly, but we move forward together. that's what matters.

modern love

i have always thought of myself as a modern woman, a total feminist, liberated in every sense of the word. i'm a career woman (or at least i will be when i get out of school), a sports fan, the whole nine. but it's weird; every so often, i get the urge to get just a tiny bit traditional. y'know, cooking, cleaning, etc. so today, as i sat on the couch with my man and his friends, i watched football, drank, and held my own in all manner of discussions on lebron james, eli manning, and whether the redskins were pathetic or just outclassed.

but i also, without any help from the boys, fixed an entire dinner for them. i brought beer to them, laid out their plates, the whole nine yards. i do this from time to time; i get a weird charge out of being a well-rounded woman (brains and domesticity all in one package!). but it's strange how this guy brings out this instinct in me. when i was in my old relationship, i HATED to cook. dear god, it was such a chore. and it's not like my workload was that much different then than it is now. quite the contrary. but with a new man, a new group of people in my life, and a new outlook on things, i find myself so much more willing to do things like this.

there's a lot of argument in this world about what it means to be a feminist, a liberated woman, etc., etc., etc. i've never been too interested in laying down a definition of appropriate "feminist bona fides." i've always felt like the whole point of being pro-woman is embracing the just infinite menu of choices in this world available to men and allowing that same menu of choice to be available to women at the same time. so i guess it's that same openness that allows me to get into good-natured yelling matches with my man's friends about sports, then turn around and serve them dinner with no issues.

this is modern love. this is modern life. a woman can, and should, stand her ground in her choices, no matter what they are. own who you are in front of the people you love. it's the best way to be true to yourself, and it's the most feminist stand you can take. bake a cake. shoot a gun. cheer like hell for your favorite football team (WHODAT!). just be who you are. if he's a real man, he won't be scared of anything you do. he'll love you all the more for being open, free and honest.

and if he's a keeper, he'll do the dishes. mine did. :)

the paradox of choice

my home is the mid-atlantic. my heart is in new orleans. my family is spread throughout the american southeast. my friends are too.

my friends, i have no idea what i want to happen in the next year.

well, that's not entirely accurate. i know the high-level stuff. i know who i want to be with. i know the kind of job i want to have. i even, after lo these many years, have settled on a hair color that i love. (i know, right? important considerations.) but now that my future is wide open, i have nothing but a slate of permutations of this construction. so many possibilities.

choice is something americans love. it's practically our civic religion (well, besides football). go to a grocery store and notice how you'll have 47 different kinds of strawberry jelly from which to select. but when it comes to this, i am kind of at a loss. i've had a very specific path to follow for my entire adult life. now that i'm the captain of my soul, and it's just me making the choice, and i'm the only person whose interests and cares matter? well, damn. what do i do now?

these things will work themselves out. it's nowhere near a crisis. in fact, it's an embarrassment of riches, brought to me by, not to brag or anything, my intellectual achievements and my ability to rise above emotional strife and take charge of my life. so while this is somewhat intimidating, it's also insanely liberating.

in the immortal words of lady gaga, i'm a free bitch, baby. if this sort of confusion is the downside to that, well, i say bring it on. i'll take that over what i've been stuck in any day of the week.

the hard part...?

i should've been asleep an hour ago; i'm going to be hating life when that cab shows up in less than six hours. but here i sit, feeling drained, yet strangely serene. the hard work of tearing down the last twelve years has begun in earnest. y'know, all the stuff i've spent the life of this blog (and the eighteen months before that, to be honest) preparing myself to do. you'd think i'd be a wreck at this point.

nope. to be frank, there's a feeling much like how an overstuffed sandbag must feel when it finally springs a slow leak. the pressure is gently easing. the negativity is draining out of every pore. honestly, this is easier than i thought it would be. but then, how many times has this pendulum swung?

"oh, this is going to be simple."
"wait, no; it's going to be hell."
"oh, hold on - there's hope yet."
"there will be no hope, just blackness."

it's quite a bit bipolar, isn't it? but that seems to be the nature of the beast. and weirdly, it's ok. actually making the request was nowhere near as hard as i thought it would be. i mean, we'll see what happens with the aftermath. but in this moment, i can rest a little bit easy. and really, though there's a lot of work ahead of me, that's all i need.

blow up the outside world

slash and fucking burn. knock the bastard down. raze it, destroy it, get it out of my sight. i want to kill everything in my past, throw it all away, as far away as i can, and rise like a phoenix out of those ashes into the life i always imagined for myself.

it's not even collateral damage anymore; that's a nice image i came up with to delude myself that what i want is something nicer than complete destruction. i want the nuclear option. i want everything thrown into chaos and decimated. this will be a slaughter, wholesale, bloody, merciless. and the sooner i admit that it's exactly what i want, the sooner i can move forward with what i want.

the path i've taken to this moment was cruel, savage and thoughtless. i have made decisions that served only my selfish nature, and it'll take a lot to undo the mode of thinking that got me here. it's been petulant, bratty even. i'm entitled, i thought. i've earned this. well, maybe i did, but the choice isn't made in a vacuum. there are side effects to everyone involved.

the end result of all of this explosive pain will be a rebirth, to be sure. i will have my new future, and it will be wonderful. but i'd better learn to live with the reality that i'm not quite as nice, as pure, as innocent as i like to think i am. i'm not blameless. i'm shiva the destroyer, at least as far as all this is concerned. i wield the sword that hacks my old life to pieces. i will emerge covered in the blood and gore of the death of that existence. the cleansing will come. but the scars will never, ever fade. the sooner i understand that, the better.

everything you want

there's a lot riding on the next 12 months. i have a career to establish, good grades to earn, a job to get... oh yeah, and a personal life to rebuild. i'm strangely sanguine about the professional/academic stuff; i love my field, and even though this is a ton of work, i relish every second of it. it was the personal life stuff that scared me and caused me angst.

note the past tense. i swear, i don't understand how these things keep happening, but the devil's dance between agony and ecstasy in my personal life seems to be ebbing. i find myself with, on the one hand, a fantastic possibility awaiting me once the nasty business is over. but then, just when the business gets seriously ugly, i manage to get a wedge in sideways and crack open a renewed possibility of cordiality.

i don't hate him. that's not the point. i'm just ready to move on. and i'd like to do that as a) quickly and b) kindly as humanly possible. as of last night, i was damn sure that i'd wrecked any chance of the second part of the equation coming true. but then, i got some kind of crazy inspiration to reframe the questions i'd been trying to ask, and i re-pitched my idea.

lo and behold, i think i've found a new strategy. so we'll see how the emotional negotiation that will be september's hallmark goes. here's hoping that everything i hope has happened actually did, and that things are at long, long last going to wind up the way i wanted. i know the career stuff is in the bag. i have so much waiting for me at the end of the month. if i play my cards right, as someone very close to me said, "you are so close to having everything you ever wanted."

and not a moment too soon.

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.