congratulations?

it's such a strange thing. as i go through the administrative changes related to my new-old name, my new-old identity. every time i sign a paper, visit an office or chat with a clerk, the conversation ends with one word that increasingly strikes me as a strange reaction to the nature of the business at hand:

"congratulations!"

now, don't get me wrong. having this done is certainly something worth celebrating. i am thrilled to the gills to be on my way to resetting my life. but, really, isn't that such a weird thing to say to someone? it's not like this is such a pleasant undertaking. the end of a marriage is never pretty. it's rough around the edges at best and harrowing, bloody, acrimonious at worst.

but then again, maybe it's not so weird. on louis c.k.'s fabulous new album hilarious, there's a routine about his recent divorce that made me laugh way harder than i thought i ever would. first off, the man is absolutely killer funny. but more importantly, he said perhaps the most bluntly true thing i've ever heard in my life, and it was just what i needed at that moment: "divorce is always good news. i know that sounds weird, but it's true, because no good marriage has ever ended in divorce. it's really that simple."

holy hell, talk about finding wisdom in unexpected places. the reason i am no longer married to the ex is because our marriage was bad. bing, bang, boom. the event hurts, it feels awful. but i am in so much of a better place than i was one year ago today. i feel free. i'm happy as hell, right down in my core, the short-term pain of recent events notwithstanding. the divorce, really, was good news.

so yeah, clerks/registrars/assorted other government-agency minion people. congratulations it is.

made it, ma. top of the world.

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

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

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

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

je ne regrette rien

i've made a lot of decisions in the last year, and it's safe to say that i've blown up my life and rebuilt it, basically in front of the watchful eyes of the internet. but the last piece of the biggest decision came through today: my name change. i went from magnolia [married name] to magnolia [birth name]. for the first time since 2002, i don't have his last name anymore.

along with the huge administrative headache, there's a strange cocktail of emotion swirling around this one. this is it - it is OVER. once and for all, the break is complete. no retreat, no regrets, it is all said and done. i'm relieved, anguished, thrilled, angry, pleased and disappointed, all at once. the whole thing is shot through with exhaustion. the last year has been a heavy burden. even though i know it's not warranted, the guilt and anger my ex has thrown at me has been hard to handle. it's been rough on the man, too, having to deal with me like this. and now that it's over... well. i don't even know where to begin.

but i am certain of one thing. i am 100% on the right path. this is the life i chose, it's the life i want. the transition hurt like hell, twisted me into shapes unimaginable and made me ache with sorrow and rage more times than i care to consider. but i regret NOTHING. i got everything i wanted. i am free. and now, with the coda written, the symphony is over. time to start a new magnum opus.

and non, je ne regrette rien.

out of many, one

"we are living with and living in the national rot wrought by the bleak, selfish sentimentality that says our troops are out there solely to insure our continued comfort."

 - david roth, the awl, 1/28/11 

in case you haven't noticed, this little liberal is pretty passionate about the proper use of our nation's military. i think it's just of the utmost importance to respect people who choose to serve. part of that is being extremely careful with what wars we go into. i mean, that goes without saying; you don't want people getting shot at for no reason. but there's more to the story than that. see, there's nothing i hate more - and yes, that includes jewelry commercials - than the largely empty, fake platitude that is "i stand with our troops." it's seen on buttons, bumper stickers, t-shirts and campaign materials. it's a favorite right-wing trope, and when it's used that way, it's also used to convey the message that a) the speaker "stands with our troops," so b) anyone who disagrees with the speaker does NOT "stand with the troops."

leaving the despicability of using troops as political tools aside, there's something more distressing about this whole construct. have you ever heard anyone who says "i stand with the troops" actually define what they DO to support military members and their families? anyone can say anything. but do these people actually propose and lobby for policies that help? by and large, no, they don't. in fact, a lot of these people act in ways that directly HARM troops. they're in favor of endless war without a real objective in mind. they don't support benefits for the families left behind and the veterans when they return. they worked so, so hard to keep patriotic people out of the service because of who they love. now how is that "standing" with the troops? it's not.

which brings me back to the quote. we really do have a venal, selfish view of our lives as a nation. selfishness is most assuredly our national malaise. we don't think in terms of a collective national identity, something worth fighting for. we should change our motto from "e pluribus unum" to "MINE! MINE-MINE-MINE-MINE-MINE!" instead of taking a step back and noting that big, giant ammunition clips are really just not necessary, especially in the light of the arizona massacre, some among us cling to those things as if mama was coming to take their blankies away. it's not about what's best for all of us as a whole anymore; it's just about what's best for me, and maybe my family if i'm feeling generous today. what kind of foolishness is that?

we're supposed to be better than this. it's happened before in our history. we used to be really good at banding together and sharing sacrifice in the face of struggle. somewhere down the road, though, we lost that. it's one of our finest qualities as americans - the recognition that we're a crazy-quilt collective of radically different people, connected through our shared belief in that nutty little piece of paper called the constitution. when we remember that it's not all about us (sarah, i'm looking at you), we'll get back to the good stuff again. i know we can do it.

bonne blog-iversaire a moi

yesterday, i said that today was a pretty big milestone. well, it is: it's my one-year blog-iversary. i started this little internet outpost for my writings one year ago today.

it was just another day in my law-school career, which meant it was full of class, activities and the dull, thudding sense that something was drastically wrong in my life. i spent a lot of law school feeling that way, as a quick spin through my archives will show you. but a funny thing happened: i started writing on it. i wrote the angst, the sorrow, the anger, and my reactions to it. i changed names and details, but yeah, the essence of the stories were pretty much my life.

and you came. my little band of online compatriots started reacting, and here we are a year later. i don't know what i'd do without my interactions with y'all. in a real, true sense, y'all helped me work out my problems, clarified some decisions, and got me over the hump. blogging is better than therapy. i've been there, and let me tell you, therapy did not get it done for me. but putting this story out there in front of god and everybody, free to be googled for anyone's perusal, forced me to take a look at my life in ways i'd never been willing to before.

this blog also could have caused me some serious trouble. a few people - and if you're still reading, you know who you are - decided that my writings were worthy of a) being spread all over my law school like a stolen diary, b) forwarded to potential professional contacts, and c) being "reported" to my ex. (ha - like i'd ever be dumb enough to blog without telling him about it.) now, these are things that could have seriously screwed me. it was surely a spiteful and ridiculous way to behave, and it was undoubtedly an attempt by silly people to get some kind of leg up on me. i'll never understand the urge people get to want to "destroy" others.

but it's funny what ended up happening. i got some pageviews out of the deal. i never lost an interview, got a bad grade or suffered in real life for this. not only that, it came to my attention recently that a member of the legal community ended up getting this link sent to him. this man is a highly-placed lawyer, someone who, if he wanted to, could have ended my career before it began. instead, his reaction was to tell the person who recounted this to me, "anyone spiteful enough to try to do this to a classmate is someone i wouldn't trust further than i could throw. they will never work for me, nor will they ever work for anyone i know." ha. haha. hahahaha. it's so nice when the good guys win, eh?

so thanks. thanks for reading, reacting, lurking or laughing. thanks for being there for me. i love the little blog community i'm part of, both here in DC and all over the country. it's been one hell of a year. here's to many, many more...

a place for everything

quite out of nowhere, and no one's more surprised than i am about this, i have developed a neat streak. don't freak, those who know me in real life; it's far from a perfect, obsessive level of neatness. i've been a piler - and let's be honest, a slobby one - my whole life. i was a classic type-B kid, messy room, unorganized class notebooks and a general "it'll be done in time, no need to worry about how" attitude. but now? by way of demonstration, today is my off day from class, and i spent the whole day cleaning, doing laundry and reorganizing.

maybe it was law school that did this to me. you just CAN'T be unorganized if you want to get through that pressure cooker alive. my class notes for my JD were so neat, so systematic, that you'd either bow down before me or report me for psychiatric treatment, depending on your attitude. that approach seems to have flowed into my personal life of late, too. the laundry i did today is folded and put away. my books are all on their shelf (with a separate bookcase for law books). there are neat stacks of magazines and books to be read. my DVDs are alphabetized. my closet is grouped by type of clothing. my shoes are all in shoe organizers. my pictures are hung. my jewelry is sorted. hell, my bed is made. that's just CRAZY.

or maybe it's just maturity. i am almost 30. maybe that's too old to be living amid the kind of chaos that was my room at age 15. adulthood changed me in a lot of ways, helped me reorient my priorities and really pay attention to what i wanted. maybe i want to care about the way my room looks, too.

either way, i know for a fact that my dad would fall out if he could see my room right now, cleaned and neatened of my own volition. perhaps the why is unimportant. in any event, the result is pretty damn nice.
--------------------
programming note: so tomorrow is a big day around the ol' blog. stay tuned for the commemoration of one hell of a milestone...

"that's how i know i'm loved."

ugh. perhaps you've seen this insipid slogan in its natural habitat - a third-rate tacky-jewelry emporium that advertises during playoff football games. the commercial is just everything i abhor about the depiction of modern relationships. it's a dialogue, superimposed over shots of teddy bears, chocolates and really ugly jewelry:

woman (in a tone best described as bitchy): "what are you getting me for valentine's day?"
man: "umm..."
w: "is it sparkly?" [cut to god-awful-tacky necklace]
m: "well..."
w: "is it sweet?" [cut to standard-issue heart-shaped chocolate box]
m: "um... let's just say it's a surprise."
[sales pitch]
w: "and THAT'S how i know i'm loved."
/scene

oh, for the love of all things sacred and holy. there is so much wrong with this - crass commercialism, materialism writ large, reinforcement of standard, trite gender-role stereotypes - that a sociology class could do a study on it. but the worst part of all of it is this: it's such a sad, hollow commentary on the state of modern love. i mean, it's so empty that it physically hurts me to think about it. really, you poor woman? you only know you're loved because he got you some stupid gemstone? ouch. my soul aches for your shallow life.

that's just not the way to go about it. no, the way to know you're loved is to, well, live your relationship. be present, be aware, and appreciate the small, comfortable little gestures. at least that's how it works for me. the man will never be that guy who does the GRAND, SWEEPING ROMANTIC GESTURE. his exact words were, i'm REALLY bad at valentine's day. this is also no surprise to me. i know my boyfriend well. to expect him to turn into someone else because the greeting-card folks made up a day when we all have to try really hard to "prove our love" through commercial transactions would be the height of silly.

but who needs grand, sweeping gestures? i have daily reassurances. i have things like this:
 - random texts, just because he's thinking of me
 - going out to happy hours and dinners when he'd rather go home, eat takeout and watch TV
 - being driven all the way to class, when all i expected was a ride to the train
 - watching entire hockey games when he wants to watch movies (and hates hockey)
 - keeping an ankle brace and a heating pad at his house, reserved just for me
 - at night, sometimes, he folds me up in his arms, kisses me on the forehead, and whispers i love you into my hair when he thinks i'm sleeping (this one is my favorite)
the list goes on like that. it's not a present, some empty material thing, that shows me where i stand. it's the life we lead together, the bond we've built for so long now, that assures me, comforts me. and unlike that poor, sad creature in the jewelry commercial, my signs are 100% real.

yeah, honey, that's how i know i'm loved. and that's how it should be.

ooh. stylish.

well, how 'bout that - one of my favorite reads out there, the venerable siouxsie at siouxsie law, has passed on a stylish blogger award to me! thanks! i am honored. so in keeping with the rules, here are seven random facts about me.

1) if it were possible, and they still sold them, i would live in my old black suede airwalks from high school. GOD, i miss those shoes.

2) i'm sure i lived just fine before my iphone. i just can't do it anymore.

3) as much as i love humanity in the general sense, i get more misanthropic as it relates to people i run into in a given day every single year.

4) i hate powerpoint with a passion unparalleled.

5) really, i prefer a man with traditionally southern mannerisms.

6) i CANNOT be in a room when a TV is on and someone's watching video on a computer. the competing sounds are too much for me to take.

7) as much as i bitch when other people do it, and lord knows i do, i suck at picking a restaurant.

and now, i've been asked to share the love with 15 of my favorite bloggers. here we go:

a) adorable napalm
b) 'bama on the brain
c) anna's life
d) have we met?
e) perfectly cursed life
f) always a drunk, never a bride
g) the suniverse
h) best of fates
i) a diary of a mad woman
j) heartsick and headstrong
k) blond with a bullet...
l) mascara and microchips
m) dibbly fresh
n) are you there, youth? it's me, nikki
o) the best days of your life

enjoy!

sins of the fathers

parents. everyone has two, somewhere out there - that's biological reality. we all have a mother and a father, at least at the point of conception. but in a lot of cases, way more than should ever be the case, one or both of the people who give a person life just... check out. i am not a parent. it's only been recently that the idea of being someone's mama hasn't caused me to break out in hives. but i am someone's child. i love both of my parents, my dad who's here and my mom who's passed on. and even though i came out okay, even though i have next to nothing to complain about regarding my raising, i still have scars. and i'm one of the lucky ones.

my friends and i are at the age when most people historically start their own nuclear families. i've had a couple of friends give birth. it's a hell of a thing - all of a sudden, there's this kid you're responsible for. and watching all this go down has made me reflective, i guess. when you do this, when you create life with a partner (one you love or not), you've opened the floodgates. you're now on the hook for things that happen to that kid. and like it or not, more often than not, what's done can't be undone. we forgive, but we don't forget.

so back to the checked out parent. sometimes it's a tragedy, an unintentional trick of brain chemistry, that pulls a parent away. that's what happened to me. other times, it's willful hatred, cruelty or reckless disregard for the consequences of actions that sear into a kid's mind. those are the times that try my soul more than anything i can articulate. i've seen the breakdowns that occur, the way the victims of situations like this have had their hearts broken time and time again, and even so, still hold their attackers in a place of rueful, painful love, twisted around the mangled frame of their conception of what that parent should be and what that parent actually is. it's shattering. there's no other word for it.


kids are so fragile, such blank slates. that's what scares me about them, what gives me so much pause about the idea of having one myself. if you're a thoughtful, caring person on any level, you can't help but evaluate yourself against that standard when contemplating reproduction. everything you say and do to and around that baby is going to go towards what that baby becomes in adulthood. there's so much focus on prenatal medical care. hell, some people go so far as to say that women of childbearing age should take prenatal vitamins all the time, just in case. while that strikes me as a little too "women are nothing but walking incubators," there's certainly no doubt in anyone's mind that if you're thinking of conceiving, you should get yourself into good medical shape.

but no one ever seems to pay much mind to prenatal mental care. shouldn't that matter too? if we're so concerned about whether the fetus is getting enough vitamin B-12, it seems that we should be just as concerned, if not more, about whether the parent(s) of that soon-to-be-baby can handle what's about to happen. nine months of gestation is one thing - the rest of your life as someone's parent has WAY more impact on what that baby will become.

so i guess my point is this: parents, be careful. for that matter, everyone around those babies needs to be careful. when they put that little bundle in your arms, that's the first impression you'll make. it's incumbent upon you and everyone else to make damn good and sure that every impression after that does as little harm as possible. that's the wage of being a parent. for the sake of that bundle, and the rest of the world, you had damn well better pay it.

grace under fire

today, i rolled my ankle. i stepped out of the car, caught my heel on a thoroughly-invisible lumpy place in the pavement and went down on one knee like i'd been shot. swollen ankle, sore knee, sore hip, and weirdly, sore neck. (i strained my neck monday night - don't ask how - and reaggravated it when i fell.) i got up, reassembled myself and walked into the drugstore. good thing i was already there; i bought an ankle brace, to add to the four i already owned, then put it on as soon as i got back.

good lord, i'm in pain. but what's worse is that no one i know reacted to this with the typical level of shock that usually accompanies an adult falling down. no one said, oh my god! are you okay? good grief, how did this happen? no, what i got was, there you go again, haha. you're okay? good. damn, you're clumsy. another day, another fall, eh? sigh.

there was a time when this was funny. i know there was. but more and more, it's just getting old. i hurt myself so many times in a given day. i cut my finger the other day while sitting still in a car, holding a plastic box of salad. i do stupid damn things all the damn time, and the result is pain every damn day. i've never been particularly physically capable. i used to walk into door jambs and fall down constantly as a small child. daddy always called me "spatially gifted," which was his kind way of saying, good christ, my kid's a klutz. this is nothing new.

but what is new is this feeling of dread when i move around in the world. i should be able to walk places, do things, live my damn life without stupid little injuries. the joke on me shouldn't be, we have to wrap her in bubble wrap to get anywhere. but it is. i feel like a constant, never-ending punch line. there are other things that feed into this feeling, predominantly the new information that, apparently, i'm the most serious, joyless person on the planet (another rant for another time), but it's largely the clumsy, stumbling way i move through the world that makes people laugh at me.

i feel like a joke all the time with this. but i don't know what to do; i am already so careful that the other punch line about me is that i am the queen of the obsessive-compulsives. i don't know how to fix it. so this is my cross to bear, i guess: i lack grace, and everyone in my life gets to have a nice chuckle at my expense. over and over. forever and ever, world without end, amen.

big-girl job

it's time for this little blogger to get serious about getting hired after graduation. i am alternately brimming with bravado-tinged confidence and trembling with crushing insecurity, sometimes second by second, throughout this process. i've seen my resume; i look impressive as HELL on paper. i've got good grades, relevant coursework, and two solid pages of educational and professional experience. (i don't care what they say about a one-page resume; i've been in college or working since 1998, and there's just no way in hell that's all going on one sheet of paper.) i am a rock star.

but how do i go about convincing the people with the jobs that i am? once i get in front of them, it'll all be OK for sure. but it's damn difficult getting in front of them. when i was a little kid, before i went to law school and got grown, i got literally every job i had except one (which was AWFUL) through some kind of connection. someone i knew worked there, that sort of thing. but in this economy, those leads are damn hard to come by.

so out i go, into the breach. head high, resume out, smile and sell it. i know things will be okay, that i'll get something, that it'll work itself out. i have a fair amount of time to make it happen. but until i have that offer in hand, set and ready to go, it's going to be a long, terrifying winter. few things scare me more than being broke, and that fear can shut me down completely if i don't watch myself. so i'm throwing on my helmet, papering the known universe with my sexy-as-hell resume (and resisting the urge to describe it as such in professional situations), and invoking every ounce of good vibes the universe has to offer.

now, to paraphrase rex ryan, let's go get a goddamned job.

tougher than the rest

[no lyric interpretation, but here's your soundtrack anyway. sorry for the ad. god, i love this song.]

i'll tell you a secret: sometimes, i want nothing more than to be traditionally, proverbially swept off my feet, whisked away, in that really hackneyed fairy-tale way. just like peter cetera in that song from the karate kid, part II, i want him to come in like a knight in shining armor from a long time ago, just in time to save the day and take me to his castle far away.

how freaking retrograde is that? i'm supposed to be a rough-and-tumble feminist. i can take care of myself better than most people can, that's for sure. but i just get so damn tired sometimes. i spent so long being the caretaker, the capable one, in my old life. it's probably more my fault than my ex's, really; co-dependency is just as bad as dependency, in some ways. but no matter whose fault it is, that's how it was, and that's why my ex is my ex. it's beyond apparent that i can shoulder the burden all day long. but i just don't want to sometimes. i just want to be kept.

the man has always been on my side. now that we're together, he's strengthened that position in my life, becoming my biggest cheerleader. he tells me constantly how smart i am. he trusts my resolve implicitly, dismissing my doubts with a simple, hmph, whatever, you'll kick its ass. he always tells me things like, you know i'd do anything for you, and you mean the world to me. he and i fit together in ways i can't even describe.

and he does me the biggest favor anyone can do: he refuses to swoop in and "rescue" me. as i continue the amazingly whiplash-inducing experience that is post-divorce graduate school, i find myself staring down a series of challenges. the weight of my life is heavy, and i found myself desperately seeking some form of escape, some easy way out of my troubles. but he would not give it. he gives no quarter to my insecurities. and in his way, he ends up saving me from one of my biggest threats - my own self-doubt. he builds me up, he reminds me how strong i am. when i look at him as he calmly rejects my own misgivings, all i see is the belief he has in me. 

and with an ally like him, how could i doubt myself? his faith makes me tougher than the rest.

a series of questions

the inimitable red shoes has tagged me to answer some questions, and who am i to turn down such a request? so here goes...


1) if you have pets, do you see them as merely animals, or are they members of your family?
the ex has the dog we lived with in louisiana. i always liked that dog fine, i suppose, but it was clear that he was the ex's dog, no question. the ex was all about the bond, and a lot of times i'm sure he liked the dog hundreds of times more than he liked me. i saw him as an animal, a nice little companion who annoyed the hell out of me, ate my things to spite me, and often kicked me in the kidneys when we all slept in our bed. sigh.


2) if you can have a dream to come true, what would it be?
i've had a few come true recently. i'm not gonna be greedy here. my dreams these days are to get a good job after graduation and keep this relationship i'm in growing. 


3) what is the one thing most hated by you?
easy. willful ignorance. i hate it beyond all reason when you show someone a series of facts, they look at them, and then, as if to spite the truth, conclude the exact opposite of what those facts show. there's NOTHING more enervating than that.


4) what would you do with a billion dollars?
oh, easy. i'd pay off everything i owe - education, personal debts, the car i still own with the ex, etc. i'd buy a nice house in the area, near where i am now, straight cash, as well as a car of my own. i'd make my parents comfortable. i'd do some serious charity work. with what was left, i'd start a serious conversation about financial and emotional readiness for the future.


5) what helps to pull you out of a bad mood?
time with my friends. a good glass of red wine. dark chocolate, preferably in the form of a mounds bar. warm weather. a nice coffee. a good lay. any of these things work. 


6) which is more blessed, loving someone or being loved by someone?
sorry. if you have one of these, either way, without the other, that is not even CLOSE to a blessing. it's called unrequited love, and it eats the lover up inside. i've been on both sides, and no. just no. love only works if both parties love.


7) what is your bedtime routine?
depends. if i'm alone? glass of wine, piece of chocolate, and either blogging or sportscenter until i fall asleep. if i'm not? we crawl into bed, talk, sometimes watch TV. some nights... well, you can imagine. but always, every night we're together, we fall asleep wrapped in each other's arms. it's nice.


8) if you are currently in a relationship, how did you meet your partner?
come back with me to the mid-1990s, that glorious time when britney spears was nothing more than a has-been mouseketeer. hell, i didn't even have a computer yet. we were in tenth grade, in our state's capitol at a mock legislature convention. a girl from my school had been hanging out with this boy, and she brought him to eat dinner with us that night. as we sat on the lawn of the state house, chatting about all the important things fourteen-year-olds discuss, he casually mentioned that he liked my favorite R.E.M. album, new adventures in hi-fi. do you remember how hard it was back then to be a music snob? i said to him, "i can tell that we're going to be friends." and from that point on, we were inseparable. you know the rest of the story...


9) if you could watch a creative person in the act of the creative process, who would it be?
i would kill to be able to watch warren zevon write a song. either him or tom waits.


10) what kinds of books do you read?
in school season, i read the law. mainly the internal revenue code. but for the last few weeks, i've devoured everything non-law-related i can get my grubby little hands on. i love memoirs, essay collections and good novels. i like books about sports. i like poetry, but only certain poets. i just read just kids, the patti smith memoir. BEAUTIFUL.


(hey, are y'all on goodreads? let's be friends.)


11) how would you see yourself in ten years' time?
working as a lawyer, comfortable with the man, and as someone's mama. (believe me, there's a truckload of angst coming in the next couple weeks on the whole "someone's mama" subject. stay tuned. it'll get fun. heh.)


12) what's your fear?
god, just one? it changes daily, it seems. how can you force me to choose? these days, i'm legitimately scared of the job market. the irrational fears, though, are always the same - i'll botch this relationship, i'm not as smart as i think i am, etc., etc., etc. (see also this entire blog.)


13) would you give up all junk food for the rest of your life for the opportunity to visit outer space?
no. sorry - exploring's cool, but i love chocolate.


14) would you rather be single and rich or married but poor?
i've done married and poor. i could do that again with the right man.


15) what's the first thing you do when you wake up?
generally? curse. i hate mornings. if i'm with him, though, i usually kiss him on the shoulder.


16) if you could change one thing about your spouse/partner, what would it be?
OH no. no, no, no, no, no. this is my least favorite thing ever - you CANNOT change them. he doesn't come in customizable form; if you take him, you take him as he is. the man and i both do things that annoy the ever-loving hell out of one another. it's been this way forever. now that we're a couple, we butt heads over them and hash them out, but it's not about "change." it's about "this is what i mean when i say X," followed generally by, "oh, well that makes sense." i am not changing anything about him - who he is now is why i love him so much.


17) if you could pick a new name for yourself, what would it be?
kinda did, didn't i? y'all know me as magnolia (except for those of you who know me as both magnolia and my real name). i love that nickname. i'm happy this way.


18) have you ever been betrayed by a family member? what did you do to get through it and go on with life? what made it better? would you forgive and forget no matter how horrible a thing that special someone has done?
uh, i'm divorced. i'd say that covers it. as far as "forgive and forget" is concerned, though? you always forgive. you NEVER, EVER forget. you carry the wrongs against you through this life as exemplars, so that you never let them happen again. call me vengeful or spiteful for doing it; i don't care. you have to gird yourself for your future, and your armor is made up of the wrongs in your past.


19) if you could only eat one thing for the next 6 months, what would it be?
salad. i love salad.


whew. now to share the love: i have to tag 4 people to play. here they are -
a) anna
b) PCL
c) jessica
d) the mad woman


hope y'all have fun!

camellia

[for those of you not versed in the flora of my southern homeland, this is a camellia, and this is a camellia bud. that'll help with the metaphor.]

i tend to be a little circumspect in my real life. that may be surprising to my loyal readers, given how i spill my guts all the hell over the internet, but it's true. anonymity is a really empowering thing, and without it, i just don't feel right being as open, as honest, as i am here. that's been the cause of a lot of problems for me - i hate conflict, i just don't want to go there, so i let things fester until it all comes shooting out in some kind of terror-inducing fit (aimed internally or externally, depending on how i feel).

when we were little hellspawn children running around the gulf south, we wreaked havoc on so many poor, unsuspecting camellia bushes. we'd use the pods as ammunition. they're pretty dense, so they made excellent projectiles to wing at one another at top speed. they left little round bruises that took forever to fade. but my favorite thing to do, sitting on my back stoop, was to peel off those green guarding leaves (which would inevitably slice my hands) and sprinkle the pink and white petals-to-be all over the yard. camellias fascinated me.

but the best part about a camellia is what happens when they bloom. from that tiny little bud, all tightly packed together and wrapped in those tough little green leaves, comes this gorgeous, splashy flower. it unfurls itself like a flag, a grand, bossy banner that seems to say, "you've been missing beauty like this in your life; good thing i came along." it's a bold flower, not for the faint of heart.

a lot of times, i hide myself in a pretty thick barrier. i wrap myself in the protection of shyness, manifesting itself in quiet complacency, a go-along-to-get-along sort of carapace to minimize hassle and make sure i'm surrounded with happy people. but when i bust out of that shell, with a lot of careful tending and loving care, i shine, i flourish, i strut my stuff in every color of the rainbow. it takes work to get me there, but i make it 100% worth your while. take it in; it's beautiful to see.

talk to me

your humble author, as you have clearly seen, can be a giant ball of anxiety at times. i am given to worry on a fairly regular basis. sometimes, most times even, i am able to seek solace with the fond embrace of my love. but what to do when the source of the anxiety is something that involves him?

i tried to have a conversation with him tonight, wishing to clear up something that had been weighing on my mind of late. but his style is... to call him stoic insults stoics. taciturn. the strong, SILENT type. so my worries and queries were met with crickets. now, don't get me wrong; he wasn't unresponsive. but a simple soothing just was - and is - not gonna get it done tonight. i wanted answers, discourse. his opinion mattered, and he would. not. give. it. just frustrating as hell.

so that's why i'm writing this instead of lying in his arms right now. i love him dearly. but right now, a pat on the head just ain't gonna get it done. someday, that might make sense to him. but until it does, he's going to have to see that silence is not always golden in my world.

in the car

you can't go on thinking nothing's wrong
who's gonna drive you home tonight?
 - "drive," the cars

some days, the weight of the world gets to be too much. lord knows there was a ton of that this weekend. my beloved saints? yeah, we're not going to talk about that. it's cold. i think my body hates me, based on how many varied aches, pains and ailments it's throwing at me. and that's not even getting into the unimaginable sorrow and rage of the attempted assassination of a congresswoman.

so what did i do? i got in the car and went for a drive. ostensibly, it was to run errands; the man needed a key made, but had a call today, so i volunteered to do it. (i am not doing ANYTHING until a week for tomorrow. i. am. BORED.) but once that was done, i wasn't ready to go back and sit in a chair while everyone else lived their lives. so i wound my way around the metro DC area, fighting traffic, blasting music and getting my thoughts in order. it was so restorative that even the light swearing i had to do while negotiating probably my least favorite intersection in the area didn't stress me out.

maybe other people aren't like this, but i am. there is nothing that settles my soul more than being alone in the car with my thoughts for a little while. it may not cure my ills, but controlling a slick rolling ton of american-made steel sure does salve me for awhile. it's the little things, eh?

alma mater

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

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

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

forever LSU."


GEAUX TIGERS.

in which i am angry

boy, it must be real easy for y'all, eh, new house majority?

i mean, hell. for your very first act to be to come in and try to get rid of healthcare reform. nice to know there are no other problems in this world. but really, what more should i have expected? see, these folks come from a magical fairyland where it's perpetually 1950 and life is june cleaver waiting for ward to come home from the office. nothing is ever challenging or broken, and if you're struggling, well, then, you'd better just work harder, because it's clearly your fault.

screw y'all. seriously. last night, i made a conscious decision to not seek emergency treatment for weird symptoms i was having because i cannot afford the outrageous $100 co-pay for my student insurance. oh yeah - and that was the co-pay for the hospital RUN BY THE UNIVERSITY I ATTEND. so screw y'all. screw everyone who thinks you're proportionally entitled to healthcare based on your net worth. i have a damn broken tooth that i can't get fixed because i can't afford $3,000 for a root canal (which is based on the cost of one in 2004 when this happened to me last). screw everyone who thinks healthcare is something that should be bought and sold. this isn't dry-cleaning. it's people's goddamned well-being. we're americans. we're supposed to have the right to life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness, if the tea-baggers are to be believed. well, the right to life is meaningless if you die of a curable disease because you can't afford to treat yourself.

i'm low on words and high on venom. so i'll just say this: we are rotten in our core as a nation if we let this sorry form of reform get repealed by venal, mean-spirited skinflints who'd rather have the 100 richest americans avoid paying their fair share of taxes than see every american be able to afford the goddamn hospital when it's needed.

screw it. i'm going to bed.

learning curve

as i've said many times before, the learning curve in my relationship rears its ugly head in strange and unexpected ways. i mean, when you're dating someone you've known half your life, you don't necessarily expect to look up at some points and think, where the hell did THAT aspect of your personality come from? why didn't i know about this? and yet, this happens a lot more than i feel like it should. i guess there's just a fundamental difference between being someone's best friend and being his girlfriend.

sometimes, though, it's not me who's caught unaware by the learning curve. every so often, he's the one left confused and unable to finesse the situation. this generally happens when i present him with the more complex, challenging pieces of my personality, the ones i try to hide from the world. he's a fairly straightforward man, one who prizes analytical thinking and problem-solving. if there's a challenge, it should be examined, an answer should be isolated if possible, and that course of action should be taken. A + B = C. it's algebra. but philosophy? not his bag. he has no patience for pie-in-the-sky discourse, even if done solely for recreation. those all-night-long conversations we liberal arts majors love so dearly, tossing around ideas and theorizing? yeah, you can forget that with the man. to call what he has for that sort of thing "contempt" is an insult to contempt.

so when given a real-life situation that can't be analyzed, and it's not possible to just say "fuck it, there's no answer," he is often left at a loss, shut down. enter my whipsawing emotions. i defy linear logic when i'm down like this, so there is no "let's do X to make you feel better and that'll be that." there's also, clearly, no giving up on this one. so he does things that he thinks will help, and he frets. as i lay there in the dark, clearly in a state of mind beyond his comprehension, he rubs my back, soothing the only way he knows how.

but as he does, i feel through his touch a stark, unrelenting fear. i look up at him sharply, intensely startled by the sensation. he smiles back at me, but the smile doesn't touch his eyes. and it's then, looking at the tension on his face, feeling the worry in his hands as they touch my skin, that it hits me like a ton of bricks. it's not a lack of understanding that shuts him down; it's the disappointment, the fear, that he can't snap his fingers and make it go away.

you think you know all you can about someone, and even now, you come away with a staggering new understanding. love is an evolving process, to be sure, and with every new fact gleaned, every new insight, the relationship is changed. the permanent mark of that fear-filled touch of his hand is seared onto my skin, locking in the lesson behind it: he will do anything to help me, and if he feels that he can't, it eats at him. the love behind that fear brings me to my knees with its strength, its intensity.

it's enough to lift my lowest spirits. see, love? you did help. more than you know.

urge for going

the rest of the world returned to work today after the glorious overconsumptive fog that the holidays have been. but me? i'm still a student. i may be damn near 30, but as far as my schedule is concerned, i am a slothful 18-year-old kid. i have two more weeks before my classes start again. i'm sure there was a time when all this freedom was a total boon, and that i was thrilled beyond belief to sit/lie around and do nothing. it was probably, like, the totally greatest thing EVER, no doubt.

but now? good god, i am bored. i feel worthless when i have nothing to do. i don't know if it was law school that did this to me, or if it's simply a function of age, but i just cannot manage downtime anymore. i can't conceive of how to handle long stretches of time in which nothing is scheduled. it's just torturous. they say idle hands are the devil's playground. to me, however, an idle mind is what causes me all the trouble. when i don't have things to do, my mind... wanders. and rarely, if ever, does that wandering result in anything good.

the last time this happened, when i left myself unprogrammed, it was around this time two years ago. i really thought i needed the rest. but then, quite unexpectedly, my life got turned 100% upside down by the events of new year's weekend 2009. lines were crossed, decisions were made, and the beginning of the end of my old life was kicked off in explosive fashion. but then i had to go back to my old life and spend seven days pretending like nothing had changed, with no distractions whatsoever. and friends, it was nothing short of mind-bending. i was scared, depressed, lonely and sad. and the longer i sat still, with no way to escape the whirlwind of thoughts whipsawing through my brain, the closer i came to total desperation. finally, i made up my mind that there was only one possible solution: i hopped a plane, lying to everyone i knew, and made a stand.

that time, the stand i made did not end the way i'd hoped. i didn't get what i set out to get, which led to a whole string of reckless and potentially questionable decisions. in the end, those decisions set me on the road i'm on today, with all the good that's brought me. but the point is, when i am left alone with my mind, i tend to get... impulsive. dangerously, treacherously, foolishly impulsive. and at my station in life, that is no joking matter. my schedule might give me the freedom of a kid, but my reality locks me into the responsibility of an adult. every decision i make has consequences, and the kind of flightiness in which i feel like indulging will only lead to serious problems if i give in.

so the next two weeks will be a series of tests. every single day will be a trial: a test of my fealty to my relationship, my career, and my sanity. i have every reason to believe that i'll make it through, as long as my supports hold steady and don't fail me. but the dark river of recklessness flows very close to my surface. it slowly sings to me of the urge for going, for moving, for taking risks far more treacherous than i can stand. will i be able to resist the siren song? only time will tell.