Enigmatic Female

A Job, A House, A Baby, A Promotion, A Life?

In that order. It's been a while. After months of unemployment, admission to the Texas Bar, a funeral or two, starting a new job, moving to a new town, attending the wedding of my younger sister, a new job for the husband, getting pregnant, having the baby, taking a few months off work, going back to work, getting a promotion, I am finally returning to writing now that life has stabilized somewhat. What has it stabilized into? Well, I'm still not considering myself a Texan, which is a plus. But, speaking of plus (sized), living in Texas has put a few pounds of melted cheese and beef onto my ass, which I am halfheartedly working to lose. Anyone else doing the 30 day Shred? Everyone? OK, I am a bit behind on the trends these days. Life is different. One drink and I'm well on my way to drunk. A successful night out at a "nice" restaurant probably involves Red Lobster. If we're really doing well, it'll be the Red Lobster near the airport. That's where I cruise nearby tables for gay men. The gay men, though, are not like the slim hotties I knew in NYC. They are puffy like rising dough and the pasty-white color of only the most dedicated basement-dwelling web-surfers; usually living with either mom or grandma, and wearing clothes that are better suited to playing softball at a company picnic than going on a date (think elastic waistband shorts and flip flops). I watch more TV than ever before; American Idol, How I Met Your Mother, anything starring the Duggars, and The Biggest Loser top my list. I try to avoid the trap of dramatic shows like Big Love as I just get way too involved with the characters. Loser much? 

Gainful Employment

I got me a j-o-b. Today I accepted a position with a college here in the Dallas area, and am quite excited by it. No billable hours, no partners, but sadly, no bonuses. I have been trying to decide between three positions that are so different from each other, it was like vetting the benefits of getting a new cat, an iguana, and a chicken. Each has its benefits, but at the end of the day you'd rather cuddle up with a cat, even if you'd really rather have a dog, because while they're not as exotic as an iguana, and not as economically beneficial as a chicken, they're comfortable and they're independent. This job also offers teaching potential and free tuition for any classes I, or any of my dependents, might want to take. Yay more education! And the hours, oh the hours. One of the positions I was looking at (the chicken) required me to be present in an office 2500 hours per year at a minimum. Another position (the iguana) would require travel, possibly to handle a trial in Guam, but featured some not so great benefits, like an emotionally draining boss who essentially told me at our first interview that he didn't know what the point would be in hiring me, he knew I would leave him. The cat position, on the other hand, requires that I be in the office about 2000 hours per year and there are no billable hours. Sweet! Plus there are good benefits, like great healthcare and retirement, a beautiful office, and great coworkers (the person in charge of the office looks like Jenna Elfman in 15 years -- love that!). The commute is longer than I'd prefer, but it's a small price to pay. The flexibility of this job, and my new laid back boss, make it great for making babies, especially as Dallas is going to take a very hours intensive job starting in late August. My first quasi-day is Friday, as I want to get settled into my new office, and I start for real for real on Monday. Yay!

Less Anxiety, Please?

For the past six months or so, Dallas and I have been telling each other that it will be a snap for me to find a job once the bar results are in, and I think there have been times when I've really believed this, but for the most part, I've felt a sickening dread that maybe I won't find a job. Ever. Then what? Writing as a career? Modeling? Culinary school? Oh, I know, I can be a teacher! This train of thought went so far that several days before the bar exam results came out, Dallas and I, both expert negotiators (hey, we even TAed a course in negotiation at the same time, only for different professors), agreed that if I didn't pass the bar, then I could become a teacher. Dallas has never had any doubt I would pass the bar exam, and knew this to be a safe deal to make. Dallas, you see, isn't the biggest fan of any job that I might take that isn't legal, as he feels like this closes off any future career I might want that is law-related. While I completely agree with his reasoning, there always comes a point when you have to question the veracity of your current path, because things are not coming easily. I don't mean not coming easily, like you interview for three jobs and none of the three will have you. I mean a prolonged job search punctuated by rejection and the well-wishes of the rejectors who seemed delighted enough with your qualifications, but really had someone more senior in mind, or someone who had already passed the bar. You see how a girl could get discouraged. At the point when bar passage was imminent, I began sending out resumes again, en masse. I've applied for somewhere in the ballpark of 50 positions, and this week, along with a few polite letters of immediate rejection, I've gotten a couple of interviews as well. I am beginning to trust that I will, indeed, have a job, and soon. Am I sleeping any better at night? Not really. Instead of being kept awake by the anxiety of not having any prospects, I am now wide awake with excitement over the imminent possibilities and going back to work. It seems, as Dallas has known all along, I really like being a lawyer and am getting excited about being able to do it again. Life is good, or it will be very soon.

Resolute

For a long time I felt that 26 was going to be my magical year -- the year I would marry. I wasn't wrong. As I dated each new person starting when I was around 24, I would count out the number of months each stage in a relationship would take and, until I was actually 26 with no foreseeable prospect, I was comfortable that I would make it to an engagement in time to schedule a wedding during my 26th year. After my relationship with R ended, I came to terms with myself, knowing that it was unlikely, 6 months before my 26th birthday, to find someone new, date, fall in love, and get engaged in time for a 26 year old wedding. Then Dallas and I reunited only a couple of months after my 26th birthday, and I was glad I had come to terms with not getting married at 26, because this was perfect and I didn't want the shadow of that timetable clouding our relationship, which needed to unfold in its own time. When he proposed just a couple of months later, and requested a wedding date that was only 7 months after that, I was thrilled, in part, because I'd been right all along (I knew I was going to get married at 26!!!! I told you so, self!) and all of my superstitions about marrying during my magical year were being satisfied. Our wedding was less than one month before my 27th birthday and it was as joyful as I'd imagined it being.   

Now that my 27th birthday has come and gone, having in common with my 26th birthday the receipt of a new driver's license from a different state (last time I traded in my Maryland license for New York, this time I traded New York for Texas), it's time to make a few resolutions for the coming year. Instead of making New Year's resolutions each January 1st, I make my resolutions around my birthday. This personal tradition follows the school year rather than the calendar year, as my birthday is August 23rd, and reinforces the schedule I have not yet managed to deprogram from my brain that fall is a time of renewal and growth, perfect for aiming at new achievements and bigger goals, and also for reflecting on the past year and seeing how much I've accomplished, or how much has changed in just 12 months. This time, I've gone from being a single girl working in a New York City law firm with a snide roommate and no obligations, to being a married housewife (only temporarily, although it has its charms) living in Dallas with a couple of dogs, a couple of cars, and a house to take care of. 

The theme of this year is to become more efficient and more productive. These principals lead me to obvious goals, like getting a job (all those pairs of designer shoes at Ross prices don't buy themselves; my latest pair: driving loafers from Joan and David for $14.99 purchased by Dallas last night at a post-birthday dinner Ross stop, but more about my addiction to bargain shopping later), and also more habitual, ritual goals, like writing for an hour each weekday, exercising five nights a week, walking the dogs daily, and getting out of bed by 8am on the weekdays. This last goal sounds ridiculous, but trust me, I need it. My last job started at 9:30, and I could get up as late as 8:45 and still make it on time with a shower. Life in Dallas (and now with Dallas, as he has a new, earlier job) starts a bit earlier than this, and I need to be up and ready to go. This will also be an entire year of Weight Watching. I don't have a certain amount of weight in mind to lose, or any endpoint, I just know that for this entire year, I am committing to a new lifestyle that isn't driven by a cycle of M&M and Dorito bribes used to coerce my own diligence as I sit on my ass in front of a computer screen reading cases or writing briefs, nor will it be driven by cycles of extreme hunger caused by lack of prior meal planning, which has resulted in more than a dozen instances of meals being eaten at an obnoxious variety of all you can eat buffets endemic to the Texas restaurant-scape. The hard parts of being 27 have already been taken care of; I've finally adjusted to life in Texas, and have a good handle on what I'm aiming for, now I just have to live it.

A Long Absence Explained in Three Parts

1. I've been busy. Not too busy to post, just too busy to prioritize posting enough to actually get it done. Work has really taken off for me in the past couple of weeks and I am doing the kinds of things I became a lawyer to do. I am loving it. I've also been out of town in North Dakota, which is another story for another day.

2. I'm struggling with privacy issues. A few weeks ago, I offended someone by something posted on this site, which was retaliated against in my comments box. It made me remember why I wanted to keep this site anonymous and the consequences of not doing so are that posting just hasn't been all that appealing since.

3. R occasionally reads this site and I haven't wanted to share some of the details of my life with him recently.

I expect to be posting again this week. There will be stories from my ginormous midwestern family vacation of fun; tales of my sister's (younger than me by 3 years) recent engagement; a continuation of my black tie affair evening and other stories about how New York charms my pants off regularly in the spring (if that's what we're doing here); and a brief history of a new relationship that began about 3 weeks ago.

What a Week!

This past week has rather made the head spin, mind reel. On Monday The Roommate and I entered a new level of sophistication, as we enjoyed a home-cooked (by me!) meal with different complementary bourbons. Some people serve a different wine with each course, but in our home, we roll in style; bourbon it was. We then watched When Harry Met Sally, I, perhaps, finding too many parallels between Harry and Sally's early relationship during the, "Are we becoming friends?" stage and our own relationship.

Tuesday I was admitted to the New York Bar, so now I'm a real lawyer. This really caps off the past five years of work it took to get here. Starting in June of 2000, when I took the LSAT, to applying to law schools, attending law schools, taking the bar exam, starting my job, submitting my bar application, and finally undergoing the Character and Fitness Interview and New York Bar orientation. The funniest, and most ironic, part of this entire process by far was the Character and Fitness Interview, with which there were two distinct instances when he did not keep it real. First, he wrote out my name on his legal pad of interviewees, the name being immediately identifiable as Irish, and said, "So, you're Polish? Heh, heh." "I'm Polish?" "Ha. Get it? I thought you'd say something about being surprised to find that out." "Well, OK, my parents would be surprised to learn that, that's for sure." "Heh, heh." Then we progress to the part of the interview where he looks through my bar application and comes across some minor traffic violations from 1996 and 2001. He said, "Have you had any traffic violations since 2001?" "No, sir." "Well, that's alright either way. I give women drivers a lot of leeway. They're not so good. Heh." "Ha. Ha. Yeah, not so good." WHAT? THIS was the person who was fit to determine whether I should be allowed to practice law, making (mild) ethnic and sexist jokes during an interview that tests for character? Brilliant.

Later Tuesday afternoon, after returning from my swearing in, I got the phone call I've been waiting for since moving to Manhattan. "Do you have plans tonight?" "No." "Would you like some?" "Sure." "Do you have black tie attire?"

To be continued...

24 Hours of Fun with Google

Or, how to reach this site through unconventional means.

1. Kee's Chocolates
2. C*nt c-bomb
3. Female peeing
4. Pooped her
5. Female bladder contest
6. Sneak tip
7. What makes a person enigmatic
8. Exotic chocolate truffles

Renewal

Four years ago today, March 30, 2001, I found out I was admitted to Columbia Law School. I can remember it clearly. I was in Philadelphia visiting B. S and I had broken up, as we would stay until he returned from backpacking around Europe. My mom called on my cell phone (she didn't know I was in Philadelphia, and stayed blissfully ignorant until just this past year when I told her this story). She said that I had a letter from Columbia, and I inquired whether it was skinny and flat and unpromising like the one Cornell sent me (waitlisting me, the whores). She said, "Yes. It is just like that...EXCEPT THERE'S ALSO A FIVE POUND PACKAGE WITH IT." I screamed for her to open it and could NOT believe it when her first word was, "Congratulations." I was elated.

I was 21 years old and had never been to New York City except for the three hours my mother and I showed three Spanish foreign exchange students the Statue of Liberty and the Empire State Building. College graduation still seemed far away. I had no idea what it would mean to go to law school or be a lawyer, or live in New York, but in spite of all this (or because of all this), I was tremendously excited. B took me out to dinner that night to celebrate, which was bittersweet, as his two roommates had not been so lucky in their law school application process. I was eager to get back to Maryland to open the package for myself and see with my own eyes the direction my life would be taking for the next three years.

The day I moved to New York, my mom came with me. It was the second time I had been there in my life. I was dismayed to find that there was no air conditioning in my apartment, and that supermarket aisles were not even large enough for 2 people carrying handheld baskets, let alone the small carts that were provided. I adapted, and even when I don't love New York, and I fall in and out of love with it capriciously, I am still excited by it and challenged by it.

This time of year is always one of renewal and change for me. Breakups happen, decisions are made about living arrangements, graduations occur; it is only fitting that the day before this anniversary, my roommate and I extended our current lease on the Upper West Side as we apartment hunt in the West Village and Tribeca and I renewed my commitment and love/hate affair with New York for another year. While it's not life-altering in the same way a new school or a new career or a new city are, it's lovely to have a plan and to make small changes that can have a big impact.

Spring Cleaning

I have an addictive personlity. Not arguably addictive--addictive. End of story. Tonight I bought five new pens to add to an already burgeoning pen population at my office and in my home. I have 5 pen cups going right now. It's a sickness. This sickness is nothing compared to my lipgloss addiction, though. I realized tonight that they are multiplying like rabbits. I have at least 4 in my desk drawer, a couple in my purse, one in every bag I own, one by the computer, one by the bed (ok, two by the bed), and several in two different makeup bags. I decided to round up all the ones whose location I could remember and herd them into a photo as proof to myself: 1) that I don't need to buy anymore damn lipgloss, and 2) that anything can get ugly when you go overboard with it. Spring is always a time of renewal and "spring cleaning" can be healthy, especially when it's cleaning the cellulite out of pasty winter-white thighs. (As I re-read this it sounds like liposuction...I was actually talking about putting the Doritos down and hitting the gym a bit more.) So this is the image of my pre-cleaned, unimproved self. I will keep you posted as I attempt to pare down and simplify a few things.

Revised

I had to revise the post about the Time Warner C*nt after all. Had to once I realized that this site was the #1 response on Google for a while for "c*nt c-bomb." Not quite the audience I'm going for, and probably not the site those Google searchers were looking for.