Adieu!
Today is my last day as a contract attorney. Next week, I start my fabulous new clerkship. Contract attorney work is boring and sometimes, the conditions are downright unbearable. The assignment I am finishing up today was not awful but I haven't felt like a *lawyer* in months. I am very glad to leave this type of work behind and actually start the career I have been dreaming about for years. Of course, I am scared out of my skull about whether or not I can handle actually being a *lawyer* but only time will tell, right? I work hard and luckily, have a great friend sitting in the office next to me who is ready and willing to lend a hand.
So, I am off to my exit interview. I guarantee it will last ten minutes. I have nothing to say! Then, it is time for swirl margaritas. Yay!
Enjoy your weekend, folks! Hope you have nice weather like DC does!
Yikes!
I am not sure what I got myself into for this summer. I decided since I don't have that many weddings (only 4 as opposed to last year's 8) that I should make fun plans that don't involve running into TH at the two outdoor bars in our neighborhood. So....drumroll, please! I got a share at a house at the beach. Dewey Beach, to be precise. Apparently, it is crazy. The housemates play a**hole (I know I can curse on my own blog, but I like the way the asterisks look) before going out, happy hour starts at 4 pm (at the latest), with a power hour followed shortly after. I foresee a few problems - I haven't done a power hour since college and I am only capable of doing a power hour if there is a power hour tape (yes, I said tape. I guess now people have power hour CDs. Or a power hour MP3 type device. I am not up on the latest technology). For some reason, hearing a song for 60 seconds helps me consume beer quickly. Also, I haven't funneled a beer since Pledge Night my sophomore year of college. I have a small stomach and it fills up rather quickly. Slow and steady drinking wins the race, I say.
The other problem involves the game of a**hole. I have no problem with it as a game, but I never remember the rules. I have played 85 million times in my life but am ALWAYS that girl who at the beginning of the game says "How do you play again?" I am nervous my ineptness, which I find endearing, may just piss some people off. I am planning on showing up with brownies to win everyone over. I am hoping my impressive culinary talents will cause everyone to overlook my poor drinking skills. Sure, it is fun to stay up late and funnel beers but won't it be nice to wake up to a housemate who made French Toast?
3 more years of Jack
My email to the members of the 24 dinner party crew:
according to the 24 website, kiefer has signed on to play jack for 3 more seasons. i have no idea what kind of wacky plotlines they have left to explore. or who will still be alive to explore them.
virus - done.
nuclear weapons - done and done
chemical agent - done.
bad guys from russia, china, middle east - all done.
maybe jack's next nemesis will be canadien.
Penn State Fan's reply:
I don't care if he's investigating an abmormally large amount of sugar being dumped into candy canes in an effort to increase hypersensitivity of kids, thus make them more likely to rebel against authority - I'll watch.Yes, we are obsessed. I must say a few words about the meal I cooked last Monday night in honor of Jack Bauer. I made Bacon and Herb Wrapped Pork Tenderloin (which involved tying bacon to the tenderloin with unwaxed dental floss), sweet potatoes (which I messed up but my friends all gallantly praised them nonetheless) and asparagus. Yum, right? AND I made a cheesecake. From scratch! I was uber impressed with my cooking skills. Not so impressed with the fact that I had a huge piece of cheesecake last night BEFORE dinner, but it happens. Let's hope my seamstress left me a little room to breathe in my bridesmaid dress for the Editrix's wedding next weekend!
Change
I am currently in a bit of a pickle. There is someone in my life, that I care about deeply, that needs help. She is in a bad situation but seems unable (or perhaps, more accurately, unwilling) to extricate herself from said situation. I myself have been in my fair share of bad situations. And I moaned and bitched and cried to my friends and family about some of these situations. But at some point, one must stop the bitching, moaning, crying, etc. and recognize that most situations can be changed. But one has to WANT to change. One must be open to the possibility of change, no matter how overwhelming, scary, or intimidating change can be. Change is all of those things - and making a change, such as walking away from someone that you care about it, is indeed overwhelming, scary, and intimidating. But, at some point, we must give in to what we know in our hearts is right. And walk away. Lucky for me, TH forced me to walk away. If he hadn't broken up with me, we would most likely still be together and I would most certainly be still miserable. I would never have taken the time to focus on myself and becoming happy again.
I know that it was right to break up even though I missed him so much last night, I could barely breathe as I lie in bed. I had people over for a 24 dinner party and one of the guests was Wayne, mine and TH's mutual close friend. When he walked in, everything came rushing back and luckily, I was slicing pork so I couldn't afford to lose my composure. But I could barely look over at Wayne during dinner because seeing him felt so strange. Sure, we were close friends before TH but I will forever associate Wayne as TH's best friend. As much as I want to have my friendship with Wayne return to normalcy, I recognize that is impossible. The change in our little group's dynamic (in that I am basically no longer a part of the group - gotta love bros before hoes) certainly is painful. But I will never get TH out of my head if I continue to surround myself with friends that remind me so much of our time together. Because there were some good, no, fantastic times together and we spent them with these friends. I hope that when I am ready to re-join the group that I am welcomed back with open arms. But, for now, I need to continue focusing on myself and distance myself from the past. And that is a huge change. These friends have been my social support group for a few years. As I said before, change is overwhelming, scary and intimidating. Striking out more *on my own* has been just that. It has also been rewarding, refreshing, and downright crazy at times. That is the thing with change....you just never know what it is going to bring.
I hope that everything works out for my friend. Unfortunately, until she is ready to accept change, there is very little that I can do besides be there to listen and to support her. I would like to think I am doing those things well but it is awfully frustrating at times. Our lives are exactly that...they are *ours*. To live, to love, to walk away, to stay...we can't live our lives for other people. Obviously, we must consider the wants and needs of others, especially in the context of a relationship. But, sometimes, saying good-bye to someone is not at all selfish - it is just the right thing to do.
Weekend, Part 1
Friday night, I had dinner and drinks with my good friend, Red. When she and I get together, we have the best of intentions. *Let's just meet for a drink* is how the conversation begins. Five hours later and three pitchers, we stumble out of our neighborhood haunt. This past Friday was no exception. We scored a cozy booth along the bar with an attentive waiter and in earshot of the band. We recognized that tonight would be one of *those nights*. We observed the singles scene around us and made some keen observations. At the booth behind me sat two guys. My back was to them so Red narrated as a girl strolled up to their table, motioned for one guy to shove over and joined them. We debated whether or not she knew them until we finally decided that she did not. And we were impressed! Red and I are both friendly and outgoing but that kind of brazen behavior blew our minds. Oh, and it totally worked. Well, it *worked* in that they left together.
Back at our table, Red and I managed to attract some of our own friends. One guy sat down with us solely to get out of the way of the waiter and planned to leave after the waiter passed. Well, the problem was that he had caught our eye earlier because he was carrying a man purse. That looked totally empty!! Red and I brainstormed things that could have filled it up at one time - I surmised he used the bag to carry his lunch. So, it was all over for him once he sat down with us. We HAD to get to the bottom of the man purse and we barraged him with questions. What was in it? (I was right - he had his lunch in it earlier today) Why did you bring it to the bar? Don't you feel like you are carrying a man purse? Why don't you keep your wallet in it? Why do you look like Eminem in your ID but not in real life? (Apparently, there had been a hair dying incident) Do you have a book in there? (Bad question to ask - he had some French philosophy book in his man purse and he tried to read us a passage out of it). He finally excused himself and we continued to watch his man purse move around the bar. Men carry briefcases, messenger bags, and backpacks. Men do not carry what amounts to a glorified fanny pack.
We had another funny encounter shortly after Man purse guy left. Red and I were leaning against the wall, lounging in our booth, when a guy stopped right in front of me. He leaned in towards me, put his hands in a mock frame around my face and said, in all seriousness, "I must know your name." Now, I am relatively comfortable with my looks. I am far from drop dead gorgeous but I clean up okay. But, this was just too much. I caught myself before I laughed in his face and replied, in an equally dramatic tone, "My name is Jersey." He let out a huge sigh of relief, shook my hand and said "Thank you. I just needed to know."
That was it. I mean, for an opening line, it was pretty creative. And I thought I gave him what he wanted! But, he moved on, probably because his friends standing behind him, looked absolutely mortified. The picture framing of my face was a little over the top but really? How is one supposed to start talking to someone at a bar? I can usually squeak out a greeting but after that, I tend to either stare blankly at the person or launch into nervous chatter. I should really work on that.
Saturday morning came rather quickly after the events of Friday night and I pulled myself together to go to a food bank in the District. After a few hours of packing hygiene products for homeless people, I felt the craziness of Friday catching up to me. I snuck into church a few minutes late on Saturday night and quickly remembered why I didn't enjoy the Saturday night mass. The Cantor (just to be clear, that is the person who leads us in song)!! Now, I can't carry a tune and only sing audibly in three places - my car, the shower and church. I find the Saturday evening cantor a bit of a narcissist. He seems to prefer hearing himself sing (and yes, he has a significantly better voice than me) and allows the congregation to join only for the refrains of some songs. I felt jipped. So, I sang a few of the verses of the Communion song against his instructions. Unfortunately, no one else dared to defy the Cantor and since I can't even stand to hear myself sing, I didn't last long.
Ok, I have more thoughts swirling around in my brain, I promise. Unfortunately, this is my last week of work so I feel my productivity should be higher than usual. So, back to work. For now.
Not Okay
The girl who sits next to me at work is clipping her fingernails at her desk. Very loudly. GROSS. That is not okay at the workplace.
This is the same girl who last week wore a shrug-type sweater with nothing underneath it. Rather revealing for a law firm, don't you think???
Values
Pardon yesterday's lovey dovey post. Back to your regular scheduled programming of my disastrous, yet oh so entertaining, life.
The Writer is out. Officially. I kept talking to him because he was nice, funny, and smart. And we had a good time together. No more! I had dinner with the Mix last night, a friend of mine from college. After dinner, I checked my voicemail and I had a message from the Writer, asking me to call him before 7 p.m. because there is something he wanted to talk about it. Uh oh, me thinks. Very few positive things happen after a boy tells me he wants to talk. It is a few minutes before 7 so I call him as I walk to the metro. We shoot the shit for a few minutes and he asks if I have time to talk. I replied that since I was standing on the corner of 17th and Eye that perhaps now was not the best time but he was weirding me out so I wanted to hear what he had to say.
Writer: "I think we should stop seeing each other."
awkward pause
Jersey: "Okay..."
another awkward pause
W: "It has nothing to do with my attraction to you because I really enjoy hanging out with you."
J: "Okay...so what does it have to do with?"
W: "I just think we have different values."
yet another awkward pause. this one is pretty long so I look at my phone and discover he has hung up on me! He then calls back but is not there when I answer. I contemplate throwing my phone under the metro bus that is about to run me over. Finally, he calls, I answer and I can hear him.
W: "Sorry about that...my phone is not getting good reception in my apartment."
J: "Okay..." (I know, I am quite the conversationalist)
W: "So, as I was saying, I just think we have different values, and while perhaps it is not a problem now, it will be one down the road and so I think we should stop seeing each other before that happens."
J: "And what exactly do you mean by different values?"
I absolutely did not have to ask this question. But I couldn't resist. Our difference in values? I won't sleep with him. That is the *value* he was talking about. And, to his credit, he was honest and acknowledged that was the value he was referring to. I take that back - he gets no credit. I just remembered this entire conversation took place while I stood outside the entrance to the Farragut West metro.
I took issue with his word choice. Values? The word *value* has a judgmental connotation that bugs me. Perhaps I am too sensitive but when someone tells me he has different values than me, I hear a judgment in that statement.
And by different, I mean my values are better is what that sounds like. I told him I disagreed with his word choice, and that *values* implies judgment. He got defensive and told me that I was just arguing semantics. Who uses the word semantics during a break up conversation? What a load of detritus.
The conversation wrapped up shortly after that. I am honestly not that upset about the whole thing. I had been thinking that perhaps casual dating, and its dramatic side effects, were a little much for me right now. I had decided to tell the Writer that I thought we should just be friends. Since he played the *values* card, I don't see any point in being friends with him.
Next!
See, it does happen
Love, that is. Well, not that I ever doubted its existence. I just sometimes doubt love's willingness to happen to *me*. And, no, it has not happened to me. I am currently seeing two guys but I think it would be a stretch for me to say that I like either one. Well, I like them both, but am unclear as to whether I *like like* either of them. Sometimes, the sixth grade terminology is the most appropriate.
The only thing better than love happening to you is hearing about love happening to a friend. And sometimes you want love to happen to someone else even more than you want it to happen to you. That is how I feel about my friend Charlotte. She has endured more than her fair share of heartbreak. And, to top it all off, she has been ready and willing to get married since....well, since forever. She can't wait to just be married, have babies and be happy. Watching our college friends march before her down the aisle has been tough. She has played the role of bridesmaid in at least 10 weddings. Maybe more. She grew up in a small town in the South where everyone knows everyone else's business. When she goes home, no one in her town asks her about her fabulous job or her adorable townhouse that she purchased herself. The most often asked question she hears:
Seeing anyone?. For the past few years, Charlotte's answer has been a frustrated *no*, more of a barely audible grunt through clenched teeth, than an actual answer.
Unfortunately for Charlotte, love is not something that occurs on a timetable, whether that timetable is yours or your mother's, love is not something that we can force, and it is sadly not something easily found, even when we are earnestly looking for it. Love happens when one is not looking, when one least expects it and oftentimes, when one has decided to completely write love off...then BAM, love shows up.
A few months ago, Charlotte and I were discussing being the single girl amongst a group of marrieds. I detected a change in her attitude towards being single. Charlotte's past experiences had left her somewhat jaded and bitter - when she received a wedding invitation, she would mutter "stupid happy people" as she added the invite to her already covered refrigerator door. But, as of a few months ago, Charlotte had turned a corner. She told me that she loved her life - she had a great job, great friends, her family was healthy and while she did not want to be single forever, she was tired of focusing her life on the one thing she wanted but didn't have. She had reached a peace with being single that I hadn't heard in her voice since....well, frankly, I am not sure she has ever been at peace with being single.
You can guess what happens next. BAM. New Guy moves to town. Charlotte falls hard. New Guy falls equally hard. They just spent Easter weekend with Charlotte's family in her crazy little hometown. They attended church with just about everyone that lives in town. New Guy loves crazy little hometown. And Charlotte's family. Charlotte is thrilled. As in over the moon, deliriously happy, only uses exclamation points for punctuation regardless of the sentence, thrilled. And I couldn't be happier for her.
Unrelated Revelations
I do not want to be 16 again. As you probably deduced from an earlier post, 16 wasn't a great year for me. And I definitely don't want to be 16 in today's day and age. Wow, I sound like my grandmother. Roommate has a 16 year old sister who, along with a friend and Roommate's mom, stayed at our apartment this weekend. Roommate's mom is taking the two 16 year olds to Myrtle Beach for the week. Roommate's mom, as an aside, is saintly. Can you imagine taking two teenagers to the beach?? Each girl spent a significant amount of time on our computers and their cell phones. When I arrived home Saturday night, Little Sister's Friend was on the phone with her boyfriend, warning him that she may have too much fun on vacation to call him every night. Apparently, his reaction was not as she hoped, because she promptly hung up the phone and moaned to Little Sister that he told her that he wouldn't care if she didn't call while she was gone. These are the tragedies of a 16 year old girl's life. I bit my tongue from warning the teens that boys, unlike wine, don't improve with age. Also, is it weird that I desperately wanted to sit both girls down, tell them to not have sex (if they haven't already!!), not to post their pictures on MySpace, don't accept drinks from strangers, study hard, and be nice to their parents? I resisted but I couldn't help let a very uncool "have fun and be careful" slip when I left for work this morning.
I have horrible music tastes. I am just not that into music. Right now, my Ipod is rocking out to Journey's
Don't Stop Believin. I probably should be embarrassed. But I am not.
My parents have horrible traveling karma. They always hit the most ridiculous traffic. What for me is a four hour ride home for them, is inevitably a six hour slow crawl. Their karma was in full force on this most recent journey to visit my sister and I this past weekend. They woke up Friday morning, packed the car, and the car wouldn' start. My parents'car is only a few years old and has low mileage. Four hours later, they were in the second rental car on their way to DC. The first rental car they were given was making strange noises and my dad refused to rent it. Thank goodness - my parents might not have made it through two car breakdowns in one day. I think they need to start taking the train down here.
DC has been taken over by tourists. Saturday was one of those gorgeous DC spring days that make us natives smile while at the same time scowl at all the tourists taking over *our* city. Since my parents were in town, I had to venture down to the tourist trap that is the National Mall. My parents had never seen the World War II Memorial and it is definitely worth braving the tourist crowds to check out. There is a huge fountain in center of the Memorial and despite the unequivocal signs prohibiting wading, many kids (and adults!) were treating the Memorial like the neighborhood swimming pool. My father fumed. And while I often write off my dad' complaints to him turning into a grumpy old man, I agreed with him. I realized it was a warm day but letting your child strip dofountainfrolic in the fountan?? I am not kidding - there were little kids, without clothes on, swimming in the Memorial' fountain. Maybe I too am turning into a curmudgeon at the age of 27 but show some respect.
Since I have no work to do this morning, I have been scouring the Post for new and fun things to do in DC. Six years here, and I've never been to Eastern Market. I think I might remedy that this weekend.
Square One
So, I have a date tonight. A nice boy is coming to my apartment and we are having dinner. I am cooking, because I love to cook. My Arlington crowd is going to happy hour tonight at a bar a few blocks from my house. My roommate organized said happy hour and invited TH. She had to invite him - he is a friend of her boyfriend's and well, we are all one happy go lucky group of friends, right?? Riiight.
Roommate just emailed me to say have fun on my date. She encouraged me to bring Youngun, my date, to happy hour because word on the street is that TH won't be attending.
And that one little sentence sends me off on a dizzying spiral of analysis. Why isn't he going? Is it because he has plans with his girlfriend? Is it because he thinks I will be there? He didn't reply to any of the group emails all day today so how does she know he isn't attending? Did he email her directly? And why do I still care? It has been almost four months since we broke up. And I am dating other people. So, where does this almost debilitating desire to ask impossible questions come from? And how do I make it stop?
I've tried so hard to not think about him. I have spent the better portion of the last almost 40 days focused on myself. I smile more, I laugh more, I honestly believe I look and feel better than I did a little over a month ago. I am healing. Right?
Girlfriends
I referenced my friends in an earlier post because a few of them were in town to bid farewell to the Editrix's singlehood. As I sat at dinner surrounded by some of my nearest and dearest, I thought how incredibly lucky I am to have so many wonderful female friends.
I was not that lucky in high school. I went to an all girls Catholic school. I was not cool in high school. Not even remotely. I had what I thought was a solid group of friends but I soon realized that our friendships were based on our shared desires to study hard, earn good grades, attend a well-known college and basically, step on each other along the way if necessary to accomplish those goals. Once we left the hallowed halls we had attended, nothing remained to bind us together.
There were approximately 160 girls in my graduating class. One could gain the most insight into the social dynamic of my high school by wandering through the cafeteria at lunchtime. My high school had three brother schools and dispersed throughout the cafeteria were tables of girls affiliated with each high school: the BC girls, hands down the most exclusive of all lunch tables and whose table I didn’t dare approach even though I tutored a girl in chemistry who sat at the table, the DB girls and the SJ girls. The BC girls were mostly blonde and gorgeous, they were the stars of the tennis and soccer teams, and, to be frank, they were rather bitchy. The DB girls played basketball and softball and were involved in student government. The SJ girls were the cheerleaders and performed in the school musical. The DB and SJ girls knew that they were not at the top of the social pyramid, so those two groups settled for vying for second best to the BC girls. From what I picked up in high school, the BC boys were the best looking of our three brother schools and to date a BC boy meant you had *arrived*. As a tremendously awkward and skinny girl with braces, knowing which brother school had the best looking boys seemed unimportant. No boy, regardless of his high school’s reputation, looked twice at me.
Tucked into the back corner of the lunchroom was my table. I sat with the other girls who were at the top of our class. Rather than discuss boys or clothes, we spent our lunch hours cramming for a possible surprise quiz in Western Civilization or comparing our answers to our Physics homework. We pored over our reading assignments for the tenth time just to make sure we knew every answer. We quizzed each other on the week’s vocabulary words and tried to have entire conversations in Spanish. Everything was about competition. The entire lunchroom knew we were at the top of the class…other girls would stop by our table to find out the details of an afternoon homework assignment and we could each recite it without opening our agendas. We were the girls to borrow notes from, ask for help or seek out as lab partners. The only time I ever felt *popular* in high school was my junior year Chemistry class when one of the BC girls, the only one in Honors Chem, nearly tripped over her backpack to ask me to her lab partner.
I left high school with very few friends. I quickly lost touch with the few I had upon my arrival at Wake Forest. I wondered if I would ever have meaningful friendships because I was so unsure as to how to make friends. I thought I had the capacity to be a good friend to other girls but I struggled as to how to establish a solid foundation for a friendship. These concerns…well, they turned out to be for naught. As I look back over the last ten years of my life, I realize how fortunate I am in the girlfriend department. Throughout my four years at Wake Forest, I cultivated friendships with incredible women who truly cared about me. You all know Belle and what a wonderful person she is. She is truly an amazing friend. There are also my Rosedale girls. Each one has a wonderful gift to offer me: when I want a sympathetic ear, there is the Editrix with her understanding smile, when I need wise words, there is Haley with her practical advice, and when I just need someone to make me smile through my tears, there is Mrs. DW with her perfect balance of wit and wisdom. Without these women, the last four months of my life would have been unbearable.
After college, I continue to be blessed with new friends. My law school girls are some of the most amazing girls I’ve ever met. There is the Librarian who refused to let law school beat her down, there is Lil AG who has grown so much in the past few months from timid law student to a confident and kick ass in court lawyer, and, AKM, with whom I share so much more than love for Jack Bauer. She has inspired me to hold fast to my idealistic beliefs, no matter what criticism I encounter. Without these three girls, law school (and the year immediately following) would have been a lot more painful and lot less fun.
And of couse, there is Roommate who has taught me to never settle. Not at work, not in love, not ever. I still don’t know how she and I became friends but I can’t imagine my life without her in it. I cannot neglect the more recent friends I’ve made through the sweatshop, E and MA, who hovered protectively around me while I cried my eyes out, comforting me with their kind words and assuring me that there were better things in store for me. For a work friend to sleep on your couch just so you don’t have to be alone…well, that is when you no longer have just a work friend.
I guess this is simply an ode to my friends. I have been blessed with so many wonderful women in my life…my mom and my sister, who have been with me since the beginning and for whom I can’t even begin to express my love and gratitude, my college friends who taught me the true meaning of friendship, my law school girls, who loved me despite my bar neurosis, and all my other friends, who may not fit neatly into a category but have found a perfect fit in my life.
I hope everyone is as lucky as I am to have such wonderful friends. I recognize my good fortune, which is perhaps what inspired me to write this in the first place. I hope all my friends know that *I* am the lucky one for having them in my life. So, thanks to my friends who read this. Thanks for listening, for understanding, for holding me as I cry, for making me laugh, for dispensing advice, for biting your tongue when it must have been so hard, for answering your cell phones, and for being the best friends a girl could ask for.
So Much to Say
I really do have a lot to say. I haven't written a post of substance in a few weeks now and I want to sit down and spend some time with my thoughts. First, I will try and catch everyone up on the latest happenings.
Key West was fabulous. What a fun town! Downtown Key West has super cute shops and restaurants as well as ridiculously fun bars. The weather was gorgeous and I really relaxed. As in full body deep breaths and let go of my worries relaxed. My sister and I were tame compared to some of the crazies that were out and about. But it worked for us. We found this fabulous Irish bar with an obnoxious guitar player that kept us laughing for two straight nights. He actually chugged FIVE Guinnesses. In a ROW. Yes, I did say FIVE, people. Granted, I've never been a chugger (I still think about the last chugging contest I lost...GRR) so I can't fathom drinking that much that quickly. But Guinness?? Watching him made me shudder. He survived though. My fair Irish skin survived through the trip with only a minor glitch. I fell asleep in the convertible on the drive from the airport and although I had taken extreme care in applying sunscreen to my face and arms, I managed to neglect my neck. Yes, I had a full on *red neck*. And only on one side. It looked good, trust me.
Upon my return from vacation, I proceeded to get sick. I managed to suffer through two days of work but had to call it quits after that. My body didn't react well to leaving sunny 80 degree weather and returning to cold, miserable, and rainy weather. I am still recovering but feeling much better, thank you.
A few boy developments...while I was in Florida, I received a text message from a boy (alias: Youngun) that I had gone out with a few times in February. I thought he was great but he was really busy with work, I kept going out of town and he just disappeared. I was disappointed, mainly because I wish guys would just come out and say
Hey, I am not interested, rather than employ the
I am going to pretend she doesn't exist tactic. He texted me what seemed to be a sincere apology and asked for a second chance. I was stunned. I could have very easily ignored it or responded with a bitchy
this ship has sailed type comment but since that is not my style, I agreed to hear him out. If only for the sake of a good blog entry. I will keep you posted.
The Writer still has his moments. He was very sweet when I was sick and seemed to be making more of an effort to spend time with me. Until this morning when he announced he was slammed with deadlines and would be out of touch for awhile. I have sent that satellite back out to orbit until I feel like dealing with him again.
**The Editrix refers to my tangle of boys as satellites. I like the analogy. They rotate around me and when I am tired of one, I send him out and reel another one in. HA!** Plus, I was talking to a very cute attorney on Saturday night when he busted up and acted like my boyfriend. Which he is not. I need significantly more wooing for me to declare myself a one satellite girl. I don't think I am ready for a boyfriend just yet. I am not ready to fall in love again. I realize moving into the boyfriend-girlfriend stage and falling in love are not necessarily simultaneous occurrences. But I am just not ready to go down the road yet. Then I have to ask myself, is it that I don't want a boyfriend or that I don't want the Writer to be my boyfriend? Would I feel differently if I met someone else? Or should I continue this hiatus from love for a little while longer, regardless of the next guy I meet? I try not to focus on these questions and instead, focus on having fun and living my life. But I cannot dismiss the nagging feelings I am having wondering how this is going to play out for me.
This past weekend, I spent a lot of time with married girls. Well, married and engaged girls. These are women that are my best friends from college and I am deeply happy that they have found their life partners. I felt out of place though at many times during the weekend because our lives are so different. My friends swapped diamond rings, discussed houses, debated having kids while working, giggled over who goes to bed first....all relationship issues. *We* was the most common pronoun employed by my friends. Often, I was downright envious that so many of my friends had found what I am still myself seeking. How come it happens to one girl at 23 but here I am at 27 and no farther along than I was four years ago?
All of the questions plaguing me, about love and finding it for myself, are questions without answers. Well, there are answers but I must wait patiently as I journey through life and discover the answers.
Unfortunately, patience is NOT my strong suit.
Neglect
I apologize for neglecting this blog. Florida was fantastic but upon my return, I got sick. I skipped work Thursday and Friday and spent those days moaning on my couch. And this past weekend was the Editrix's bachelorette party which was super fun. More details on that later, I promise.
Now that I am back at work, I actually need to be productive. Oh, the horrors. Only three more weeks left at this job!
More blogging to come!
