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from Clipart Today

Yikes!

Is it bad that I’m relieved I have a perfectly good excuse for avoiding Valentines Day for the second year in a row that I’m single?

I hate Valentines Day. Okay, fine…scratch that…besides these last two years, I’ve had one Valentines Day when I wasn’t in a relationship and even then, I went on a socially-pressured date. And the result of that was a friendship ruined because I couldn’t figure my own head out and do the right thing by going stag on Valentines Day.

Because a girl has to have a date for Valentines, right?

I mean, last year, I had two dates lined up and both of them purposely not on the actual day, but really, we all know it was to “celebrate” the day. I had sort of dreaded those dates coming up. Not that the guys weren’t perfectly awesome, because they were. If I had been in a better emotional place, I know one of them would have been Mr. Perfect for sure–the kind of guy you run to tell your mom about. The other guy was the kind of guy you showed off to your girl friends: Mr. Tall Dark and Foreign.

And around this time last year, I was trying so hard to fall in love again. But I just couldn’t, and I was too terrified of the prospect of another post-Valentines-Day-I’m-really-not-that-into-you fall out.

Then my grandmother passed away and I had to pack my bags and fly to the Philippines. I had to cancel Valentines Day. And I did not mind at all. In fact, it was the catalyst for my “Time Out” from dating until June.

This year, I’m almost glad I have the shelter of “studying for the Bar” to protect me from the social pressure of going out with someone on Valentines Day. It’s just that…Valentines is such a statement in this society that it’s kind of terrifying. What does it mean when I say yes to a Valentines Day date? What do I have to be next?

I don’t want to lead people on. Not especially when they’re friends and I hate stepping over and blurring the lines. It gets too complicated and the worst part is, I always come out of it one friend short.

I don’t know…I’m confused. I suppose there is one (or two) guys I would hope to go on a V-day date with. But this excuse also gives me a reason not to hope that he’d (they’d) bother to make plans. He (they) know that I’m in the midst of Bar-frenzy and cannot be disturbed. I’ll just pretend that that’s the reason why he (they) wouldn’t ask me out.

Maybe I’m just a coward?

Maybe I’m just not ready?

Someday, I’m going to have to figure it out. Because I can’t be possibly be (UN)lucky enough to have another catastrophic reason to miss Valentines Day for the third year in a row, right?

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I will show you something different from either
Your shadow at morning striding behind you
Or your shadow at evening rising to meet you;
I will show you fear in a handful of dust.

– T.S. Eliot
These lines of T.S. Eliot’s poem always reminds me what my (and I think a lot of people’s) greatest fear in life is: it’s that silent fear to be forgotten when I’m gone.

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Trouble is…

If I’m not doing it, how can I expect you to do the same?

I could hope.

But then again, you could be hoping and I’m here knowing that it’s in vain.

I could be a fool.

But I don’t think I’m strong enough to be foolish.

I smell trouble. Worse, it’s a double standard on my part.

Evirrrr.

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I’m blissfully happy.

I grind my teeth.

I smile all day and laugh everywhere I go.

I have nightmares.

I play boardgames, go rock climbing, talk to friends.

My stomach churns.

I go out on dates.

I’ve got my eye on the calendar…

Not only that, but so many other things have happened (uh, lost camera, lost debit card, law school loans coming out of the grace period) that should make me pouty or sad or at least dampen my bliss. Maybe the Neuro Bliss that I drank last Monday is still hanging around in my system.

Who knows?

But I’m still happy. And I wish I could bottle this feeling up because I might really need it tomorrow. Maybe this is me just making myself as happy as possible to guard against the misery that I might feel tomorrow? Is this denial? It must be. Blissful is ignorance indeed.

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Okay, okay…maybe not. I mean, I’m not a lawyer…yet.

But at least I’m making money again. And I’m busy again. And I’m feeling productive again.

There’s waitressing (yeah, don’t judge, you know it’s a noble profession *coughs*), tutoring (it’s rewarding, okay…), document reviewing, and researching/writing. So what if I have four bosses and I’m scheduled back-to-back-to-back?

I’m totally lovin’ it.

Like I told PMaster, I feel like my life has purpose again.

I love waking up in the morning feeling like I immediately have to get out of bed and work. I love that sense of direction and knowing what to do next. Yes, I’m going to miss waking up at 9 or 10, and even 11 on a few days, but nothing beats waking up and knowing that you’re getting something done today.

Love it.

Plus, I get free food from one job, interaction with kids at another, legal networking at another, and legal research at the other. Heck, I even get to wear a tie (and an apron). Once my schedule becomes much more settled and clearer, I’m also jonesing to start doing volunteer legal work at the SFBar Association. More networking, more of my foot (and hopefully a leg and an arm) in the door, and hopefully a job when (yes, when–i’m being optimistic here) I pass the bar.

Handsome H says he admires my moxie.

In reality, it was more of a near-fatal combination of boredom and the desperate need to do something more than stay at home all day.

Either way, I’m baaack in bidniz. Sort of.

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I’ve been trying to figure out this strange restlessness in me, wondering when I’m going to “get there.” This blog entry pretty much nailed it. All the short-term pleasures are exactly that: short-term. I find myself wallowing in the troughs between the peaks of indulgence and wondering why I’m not “happy” at those times.

He calls it self-actualization–and I’ve been calling it my search for a “deeper meaning.”

I don’t know what to do yet. I am certainly still playing the “waiting game” of “when I get that job” then I can start figuring out the rest of my life.

But at least I know I’m not the only one trying to define happiness that lasts.

What is happiness anyway? It hit me across the back of the head like an angry parent. There I was, minding my own business, wallowing about in a mopey state of woe at my dissatisfaction with my own life, when reality bit me fair on the butt. Hard. I regularly bang on (and on, and on) about the importance of independence, that is, not seeking a partner to complete ones-self, but rather, ones who complements us. I rant on about the importance of goals, incremental personal … Read More

via View from Wit's End

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For someone unemployed, I seem to have even less time on my hands than when I was employed, or attending law school, or studying for the bar.

How is that possible?

Well, here’s what I’ve done so far:

Week 1 after the bar:

(1) Party

(2) Vegas

(3) More Vegas

(4) Pack Up

(5) Move back to NorCal

Week 2:

(1) Unpack

(2) Hang out with Handsome H

(3) Hang out with Diggles

(4) Hang out with the entire Pagan Fam (minus the Youngest ‘Un, I never see him).

(5) Unpack

(6) Hang out with Golds, Chewie & Celim

On the side:

I’ve applied to a bunch of jobs, finished two books (I’ve started on The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo, though in the back of my mind, I keep thinking I should finish the Harry Potter series), and watched three full seasons of the X-Files (am now on Episode 1 of S4).

Yes, I am a nerd.

In addition:

I’ve even taken up gardening…somewhat. If lopping off tree branches and shaping hedges count as gardening. I’ve gotten the sprinkler system in the backyard to work, and I’m contemplating on what to do with the apples on the apple tree. Eating them sounds like a good idea, though I’ve never picked an apple off a tree before and then just eating it. I mean, what if there’s a worm in there?!? But it’s just sitting there in our backyard, taunting me with its abundance. It will happen one of these days. I’ve also managed to wrangle with the rose bushes in the backyard. I fell on it and got my ass pricked. Hey, those thorns…they’re kind of substantial. Almost as funny as the time I fell and sat on an upside down pin cushion in Home Ec class. Thank Kolleen, my then-bestfriend- for shoving me. Her punishment? She had to go to the girls restroom with me and pull needles and pins out of my ass. Damn right. True friendship.

Carpentry is on the list as well, as I’ve modified a bunch of Ikea products to fit certain household needs. Did you know that it’s ridiculously hard to saw through wood? Or maybe I’m just doing it wrong. I’ve put up a couple of crooked shelves, too. But if you put a bunch of stuff on it, you’d never know it was crooked. I’m not that bad.

Interior Design might also be an added skill, seeing as I’ve remodeled my room three times in one week trying to decide what I like best. I think I’m done for now.

Home Economics have also made a come back. I’ve sewn and hemmed my mother’s curtains and cooked several meals. I might take up cross-stitch, too. *Rolls eyes*

Plus:

I look forward to doing:

1. finish reading The Girl with The Dragon Tattoo (then watch the movie)

2. finish reading Books 5, 6, and 7 of HP series

3. finish my writing sample so I can possibly get a “writing” position (yeah, pipe dream, but so what?)

4. of course, get a job, DUH.

and  yeah, there’s that tiny little thing called Passing the Bar. I can’t decide if I want November to be here sooner or never.

And that is all the time I have for now. Back to doing stuff. Here’s to Week 3 of Post-Bar unemployment.

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You tried to make cranberry sauce.

This was one of those lines from a story that I read that really just stayed with me. I read it sometime in 2006 and I come back to that story every now and then for something to make me smile.

It’s a short story written for a Thanksgiving Day writing challenge. It’s the last line in the story and it’s the answer the girl gives the guy when he asks her why she just hugged him. Their relationship had always been somewhat antagonistic, but in this little scene, there was tenderness, understanding, and a hug. Because he tried to make cranberry sauce.

I don’t expect you all to get the story, just the message behind the story. It reminds me all the time that it’s really the small things in life that add up to make you love someone. It’s the small things in life that make up a larger whole. It’s the little effort that matters. It’s the trying that counts.

Many times you will fail. But it also reminds me that it’s good to have people in your life who won’t just see your failure, but be able to look around at the disaster in the kitchen and realize that you tried your darnedest to make cranberry sauce. And then be able to give you a hug and appreciate it.

I go back to this story at least once or twice a year and every time it makes me smile. I hope I never get to a point where I have become so jaded that someone’s effort–though disastrous–no longer matters.  Everything is made up of the little things. I notice the little things, and yes, they do count.

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I’ve been watching Criminal Minds a lot lately. There’s just really nothing much on TV late at night, but there are some Criminal Minds reruns. There was a scene where they go through an “Un-Sub’s” (Unknown Subject) belongings. The Behavioral Analysis Unit goes through this guy’s stuff and makes all these assumptions about who he was, or what made him the way he was, or what the “trigger” was.

I looked around my room. What can someone tell about me based on the items in my room? Based on the books i have in my bookshelf, the kinds of shoes I have, my clothes, what’s in my bathroom, the pictures in the frames, the mix of neatness and order with hurried disarray.

They figured out the guy based on the minute and drastic changes in his drawings. I wonder (since I can’t draw to save my life) if they can figure me out based on my writings. Can you find my “trigger”? What drives me? What motivates me? Could they really tell from the stories that I write that I’ve changed?

It’s so interesting that there are people who can look at everything that surrounds the person and build a context of the life that person had. I look at my life and I can’t figure out how they would do it. I almost want to ask someone who works for the BAU to profile me. Just so I know who I am.

When you look at the people, the things you have and the things you create in your life…do you think they reflect who you think you are?

Go Team Jacob!

Go Lizard Repellent! Are You Only Available in India?

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