In no particular order...
Below are the thoughts I strung together on my train ride back to Washington last night. With very little order or sense of purpose.
Another holiday season survived. Well, almost. My *favorite* holiday of the season still awaits. New Year's Eve. Such good times. Spending a ridiculous amount of money, never being able to get a cab which leads to freezing your a** off on a street corner, scanning a crowded bar/living room/hotel ballroom for an attractive person to kiss at midnight, only to discover later that *attractive* is a flexible standard when the person doing the looking has consumed multiple liquor drinks...really, it is my favorite night of the year. This year, I am keeping my expectations low and my costs lower. A few friends over for drinks, then a short walk/stumble to a low key neighborhood bar. Nothing fancy. Nothing outrageous.
My interview went pretty well. At times, I upgrade that to "very well", but I am trying to keep my enthusiasm in check. I desperately want this job and I know for a fact I can do this job. As I walked through the pristine glass doors last week, into a tastefully decorated lobby, with all the day's reputable newspapers laid out just so, I willed myself to not appear awestruck. I had worked at a big firm years ago but being an attorney in such a place...well, frankly I was immediately overwhelmed. I met with a total of eight attorneys, including a labor defense bigwig who is currently looking for an associate upon whom to pile work. "Pick me", I felt myself shouting, hand outstretched towards the ceiling as if back in Mrs. Krug's third grade class where I always seemed to know the answer. I was told not to expect news until after the first of the year...BUT, today I sent an email to the Recruiting Coordinator to thank her for setting up the interview and to let me know if she needed anything further from me. She replied that she would be contacting me next week to set up another round of interviews!! Whoohoo!
Part of the reason I so want this job is the relief that I would feel locking in a post-clerkship position. I am barely getting by on my current salary which means I can't afford to not have a job lined up within a few weeks of my clerkship ending. While Mama and Daddy Jersey would bail me out if need be, I would prefer to make a seamless transition to real world attorney without having to stop off at Parental Safety Net-land once again. I would like to make a dent in the National Debt, Daddy Jersey's pet name for the amount of money loaned to me over the years. But I highly doubt I will lock in a job so far in advance. I am just not one of those people that "things just work out for." So, with equal parts hope and self-doubt, I await round 2.
Being at home was nice, although it went way too quickly. I was only home for three nights, just long enough to feel guilty upon my departure. Mama Jersey gets choked up, hugs me tight and mutters into my shoulder, "I wish you didn't live so far away."
While we are on the topic of my mother, I will share the conversation we had at the train station.
"Is this how you wear your hair to work or do you fix it nicely?"
"Nope, this is how I wear it." (Which means I put a little product in it and I blow dry it).
"Oh."
What is it with her and my hair? It was recently trimmed, I blow dry it, does she expect a salon like blow out to be done at the gym at 7:45 a.m. as I rush to make it to work before Judge calls? Man, does that woman give me a complex about my hair. A friend from work recently told me that she went to reach for a piece of bread at dinner and her mother admonished her, "Don't you think you've had enough carbs today, dear?" Sheesh. Moms are a tough crowd.
And now a final anecdote on my appearance. On Christmas day, I wore to church a BCBG wrap dress and gold heels. A little class for a town where big bangs and multiple gold necklaces are all the rage. I stood off to the side while my parents greeted what felt like the entire parish. An elderly woman hobbled over to me. She said, "I've just got to pay you a compliment. You've got the nicest set of legs I've seen in years. And those shoes! You should be a hosiery model."
Nice compliment, right? It is nice to have someone notice those extra hours at the gym. I smiled, turned beet red, and said thank you, praying that no one else heard. She wished me a merry Christmas and went to walk away. She turned back though and said "And your face ain't half bad either."
Now with an absolutely crimson face, I willed my parents to wrap it up. Sensing that was a losing battle, I decided to walk out on my own to the car. As I walked out, I saw myself in the glass doors and thought, "Hmpf. Maybe this isn't half bad."
Now, if only she were a single guy, about 30 years old, around six feet tall, and a liberal who loved college basketball.
One segment of the population at a time, I guess.
A bright spot
I got an interview!! For life after clerkship. A few weeks ago I sent my *stuff* to a bunch of firms for which I am tremendously underqualified. But one very nice lady called me last night and wants me to come in for an interview next week. Whoohoo! While this is far from an offer, it is nice to get some good news. Especially since even I am annoyed with my heavy on the melancholy blog posts.
I also have fun plans for the weekend - a night out with some people I haven't seen in awhile, and my book club's annual cookie exchange on Sunday.
I feel more good things may very well be on the horizion - or at least I hope. For my sake, the sake of my blog and for all of you as well who read my "woe is me" blog.
Zsazsazu Later in Life
I went to dinner at my judge’s house the other night. He invited another judge and his spouse and that judge’s law clerk. My judge is a great guy but the real star of the evening was Judge Granddad (so dubbed for his adorable grandfather-esque cardigans). He made the following comments throughout the evening:
“That Johnny sure had a way with the ladies.” (a John McCain reference)
“I mean, why didn’t he just admit that she was a good piece of ass and we would all have gotten over it?” (a Lewinskygate reference)
“You have time for one more martini – we’ve got five minutes.”
“There is a guy out there for you, Jersey. He is looking for a girl who can eat beef. And it appears that girl is you.”
Judge Granddad is a bow tie wearing, gin martini drinking, and shotgun toting Southern gentleman. He went to Virginia for law school and proudly sported a coat and tie to class. He served in the Navy with John McCain. He thinks all wedding starting after 6 p.m. require black tie. Apparently he attended a wedding of one of his old law clerks that started at 6 p.m. and he spent the entire wedding reception giving people directions to the bar because they assumed he was a waiter.
Unfortunately, Judge Granddad only has a few more weeks on the bench because Virginia has a mandatory retirement age. While Judge Granddad thought about challenging the retirement age, his wife is anxious for him to retire. I had never met his wife before, but they were the exact couple that I want to be when I am married at seventy. (This is my blog, so I am permitted to assume I will be married by seventy). While Judge Granddad held court at the dinner table, enchanting all of us with the stories, Mrs. Judge Granddad just sat back in her chair, her fingers twirling the stem of her wine glass, and smiled at him across the table. She too had a sparkling personality and at times, she would interject and engage Judge Granddad in the exact witty banter I strive to have with someone. And they are SEVENTY! For lack of a better word, it was refreshing. Marriages are falling apart all around me (not people I know, just the end of the year divorce rush at work) and here was this fantastic couple, so full of life and love, living my dream. Remember Carrie Bradshaw and her pursuit of the zsazsazu on
Sex and the City? That feeling that makes your stomach flutter and your eyes light up? Judge and Mrs. Granddad had the feeling and we could all sense it. That gives me hope. And reminds me not to settle.
Now, that was a more cheerful post, wasn’t it? I am off to another holiday party with attorneys and judges. Oh, the knee slappers I will hear tonight!
And the hits just keep on coming
I was told I needed to perk it up some on my blog. While I have not been in a bad mood since I last posted, I have been what I call “beaten down by life.”
Last Friday, I went out, tired but optimistic about the prospect of meeting a friend of a friend who was supposedly a really nice guy. A really nice guy that professed to be looking to meet a nice girl. Lil AG had met him a few weeks ago and called to tell me about this boy she thought was perfect for me. Lil AG and her friend, Linds, decided to set up a group outing so that I could meet this guy.
After a somewhat awkward introduction, he then blew me off entirely to make out with someone else. Not just blow me off in that he didn’t really talk to me, but blow me off as in I barely got a hello before he started sucking face with another girl. The setter uppers were mortified. And I certainly don’t blame them. He was less than impressed with me and didn’t waste any time in letting me know.
I dusted off the brush-off and since it was late enough, I tried to motivate Lil AG to share a cab to the Commonwealth. I was standing talking to two of my friends when a drunken bar patron (who happened to be a friend of Captain Brush-off) attempted to sit down in a nearby chair. He missed the chair and started falling towards Lil AG, whose instincts kicked in and she pushed him away from her, but unfortunately towards Linds. Linds then fell into me, which resulted in my falling onto the coffee table behind us, landing with a resounding thud, before rolling to the floor. In front of Captain Brush-off, his friends, and scores of other Adams Morgan revelers.
Luckily, my ego was the only part of me bruised. But since the ego has already suffered its fair share of setbacks lately, this last one just seemed like overkill.
The remainder of last weekend was spent consuming Miller Lite and cheering Wake Forest to victory in Jacksonville. The Orange Bowl. The freaking Orange Bowl!! Unbelievable. I am so proud to be a Demon Deacon right now it almost makes me want to go further into debt to make the trip to Miami. Unfortunately, working non-stop does not a bigger paycheck make and the trip is just too much.
That brings us to this past week. Again, a ridiculous number of hours, with the highlight being coming in super early on Thursday morning to finish my docket only to be sent outside in the freezing cold for a fire drill. At 7:20 in the morning. We stood outside for over forty minutes. The first fifteen of which I was trapped talking Ms. Sunshine, who very well may be the nicest human being on earth. She answers her phone “Happy Holidays, Thank you for calling Circuit Court, How may I help you?” The conversations conclude with “Thank you SO much. Have a blessed day.” She brings her Bible to scheduling conferences and spends a few minutes in prayer before getting started. We are setting trial dates. People give us dates and we write them down. Granted, a little serenity is in order whenever dealing with attorneys, but let’s be realistic. The Big Man has priorities!
Well, at 7:20 in the morning, without any coffee in me and freezing my ass off in the parking lot, Ms. Sunshine is a little bit much. I couldn’t talk about how damn cold it was outside, or how freaking stressed out I was, or how my judge was going to kick my ass if I didn’t finish the docket. After fifteen minutes of “Yes, this is a blessed day despite the fact that I can’t feel my fingers and may be suffering from an anxiety attack”, I was finally able to cut loose from Ms. Sunshine.
The rest of the week passed without incident as far as I can recall now. It seems so long ago even though it was only a few short days ago. I think when work consumes you so much that you aren’t even able to keep days straight, perhaps it is time to cut back some. I thought this week would be better, but I am out of the office all day Tuesday and we are in the middle of “let’s get divorced right quick so that we can file separate tax returns” rush. Months of squabbling over mortgage payments and chandeliers are thrown out the window as soon as the attorneys start explaining the tax benefits of filing separately.
So, we are in the middle of a busy time at work. I have yet to experience anything that resembles a slow time, but here’s hoping one is right around the corner.
In other news, Wayne is engaged. Since I have not figured out how to link to previous posts, I will remind those few who remember that Wayne is my former roommate who I had a serious crush on for about two years. Then TH, Wayne’s best friend, moved to town and we started dating. Then TH lied and cheated and broke my heart and things were never quite the same between Wayne and me. Part of it was my heartache over TH and the awkwardness that resulted, but part of it was Wayne’s new relationship. Wayne is the kind of guy who freely admitted that he lost touch with his friends when he was in a relationship. “Relationship Wayne” was all about the relationship, and not so much about the friends. Apparently ditching his friends worked out for him because he proposed last night. To a really nice girl. With definite Stepford qualities. You know the type, super pretty (the perfect blonde highlights that just look natural), super smart (valedictorian with fabulous job), super athletic (she is the girl on the treadmill at the gym in a coordinated spandex outfit that fits her like a glove), and super nice (smiles at every thing you say and nods at you when you say something mean as if to say “I want you to think that I agree with you, but I would never actually come out and express an unpleasant thought because I just don’t think I am capable of such things).
So, yeah. Wayne’s engaged. I am happy for him. She is a fabulous girl. And perfect for him. I think they will be happy. And I am happy for them. I said that already.
Ok. I think I will lie back down. It makes it easier for life to kick me that way.
