196.

So, I did go out for lunchtime drinks on my last day.  It was great.  I really enjoyed spending time with my co-workers over the lunch, commiserating about how horrible the job was, planning about how to make the next step for each of us individually, and enjoying lunchtime brews before returning to write our abnormal holdings.

Nonetheless, that day, my nose started to get stuffy.  Then, runny.  Then I was blowing my nose consistently by the end of the day and my throat was scratchy.  Then, when I came home, I developed a small headache.  By the next morning, I was waking myself up coughing.  There were paint color-strips less diverse than the phlegm I coughed up over the last two days.  It was horrible.  I could hear my heartbeat through my eardrum.  I felt heat and pain through my eyes, sinus pressure, headaches, nausea. Ick.

It was this part of the weekend coupled with the GF’s absence, moodiness, and irritability, that has finalized my decision that I will leave this relationship.  She was gone all weekend and that part, in and of itself, was fine.  It’s a three-day weekend.  I get it.

However, she’s been so irritable- so bitchy, and so NOT-there, that I just don’t really see this relationship as something that works out in the long run.   It’s sad to say that our needs aren’t being met, but the truth is that neither of our needs are really being met, and this weekend is a very clear example of that.

Had the tables been turned, I would have stayed with her and made sure that she was alright.  Last night, she stayed at her parents house because she didn’t want to drive back home.  That’s fine.  Her sister lives there.  I get that it’s a bit of a trip.

But when I called this morning, she snapped at me.

I hate it.

It happens all of the time.

I just want someone tha ti can honestly be happy with.

I’m tired of the nonsense.  I’m tired of her anger.

I have  a new job.  I have a greater potential.

I have more ambition, more internal drive, and a bigger sense of happiness than she has.

I am romantically attached to an unhappy and angry individual who is happier to hold me back than to allow me to grow.  That’s a mistake on my part.  It’s rectifiable.  I just need some time.

A N

195.

Jacko was a wacko.

It’s odd how tough it is for me to reconcile the two images of one of the world’s most talented performers with the person who held his baby over a balcony, had numerous facial surgeries, was alleged to have sexually abused children, and was always on the verge of total financial collapse; never mind the fact that he was forever strange in his everyday existence.

I can’t say that I mourn his loss overall though. To me, as I discussed with the GF tonight, the Michael jackson I knew and loved seems so distant, so young, and so different, that there’s no question that the Michael Jackson who passed away is not the Michael Jackson I cared about, grew up with and enjoyed.

His attorney says MJ had a pill habit.

I can only imagine what will surface about him after the dust settles.

For now, the world is determining his importance through celebrities, fans, and the media- to which I say: Congratulations, Michael. I was always concerned, somewhere in the back of my mind that you were going to destroy whatever semblance of dignity you had remaining within your career.

I expect a hit MJ song in one month on the billboard top 40.

194.

Victory!

Could it BE?!  Yours truly, the one and only A Nonymous, after YEARS of laborious work, after enduring countless stupid law-school comments by my peers, the frustration with my professors’ obnoxiously long lectures, the snotty, sneering ways of other law-students from better schools, the god-awful bar exam preparation in which I had to endure, not only my own freakouts (horrible), but also those of my partner and her closest friend, the desperation of waiting for bar-exam results, the STUPIDLY LONG AND POINTLESS application-process, the ethical course, the seemingly endless job-searches, interviews, and rejections letters, I FINALLY had my ethics interview.

I started this blog partially out of my entrenched fear that I would work this hard and, if I even MADE it, that I would get to the ethical interview and the panel of individuals would look at me, in stern judgment, and tell me that I am a horrible person, that the $100,000+ I took out in loans might as well have been flushed down the drain, and then they would replay, blow by blow, everything from my hobby of viewing various pornography movies to the time that I shoved ice down peoples’ shirts, played grabass with girls in elementary school, and had sex in public in places I had broken into with my partner at the time!  And then, they would get into the emotional things.  The things like daggers or ice-picks that I can’t even admit to myself all of the time: my failings, my fears, my inadequacies, my lack of joy, my sadnesses, and deserved losses of those near and dear to me – much worse, those who remain close to me now.

And then, faced with a clear image of myself, honestly, openly before the panel, they would make some form of a command for retribution.  I would have to apologize for everything they had mentioned and the things that they knew which I thought I would not have had to have shared with them, since they didn’t mention them.  They would destroy icons of the people I felt any sense of connection with, viciously, and sneer and point at me, telling me to “begone!”  Like some sick chant of a panel of 9 justices, not together, but some sickening cacaphony.  Like I was no longer there.  Like the words alone were more significant that I was, like I had no choice but to accept those words, follow, and make stitch up my own wounds, lick them, and clutch at the walls as I exited the room, leaving bloody hand-prints on the wall.

-

My record was 100% clean, excepting having been suspended from high school for one day because I danced in an all-school assembly after having been told not to.

After 4+ years, I am one step away from being an attorney.  I also have an unofficial job offer, and I cannot wait to begin working on behalf of those truly in need.

Professionally yours,

A N

193.

Went to work today, deep into Manhattan, after having woken up at 5:10 and taking a bus to a subway, to a subway, to a subway, in order to arrive and discover that I DID NOT HAVE TO WORK!

Why?

Swine flu.

Indeed.  Someone had it and, as a byproduct, they shut down the entire project for Friday.

While that means that I can’t sit around working among the gorgeous women I work with (who are also, apparently, driven and intelligent), the good news is that I will be paid for the day, anyhow. 

Going back home was crazy.  My sister graduated and I was able to see old friends, play music, and act all sorts of crazy while watching what might be the actual decline of my entire family… D-I-V-O-R-C-E might indeed be up in the air for my father and step-mother.  Of course, the probability of that it might happen is anything but certain, but it was extremely awkward to hear the stories my step-mother confided in me.  Things like my ‘father wanted sex too much’ and that 2-3 times a week was not enough, or that she no longer enjoyed it…  That crossed a line.

At a different point, I wanted to put my little sister on the spot for being a total brat.  It’s also a bit odd that she’s really hot.  I mean, internally, I have my doubts about her attractiveness (she’s horribly selfish and manipulative) but objectively?  On a scale of 1-10 she’s probably a 9 or more.

Later, my dad discovered his wife’s plan for divorce… I have to tell, you- that was a rough phone-call to discuss with him.  I told her that if she coudln’t fathom divorce because there was so much debt and that she would not know how ot handle it, then perhaps she should consider seeing an attorney.  Of course, she tells my dad about it and he tells me that he knows that “I advised her to see an attorney.”  Not about the issue of analyzing debt- Nope- Just seeing an attorney.

That was a shitty move.

I get so frustrated with my family all of the time.  Every time I return home, there’s some huge event occurring.  I expend my efforts on recalibrating the family dynamic and go.  It’s honestly exhausting.

I’m going away for the weekend, but we’ll see whether I post again.

HAPPY SWINE-FLU DAY!

A N

192.

Dear Flower-company,

“If you have any other questions or concerns, please do not hesitate to contact us at the address listed below. You can also contact us at xxx-256-6663″

My concern is that these flowers were delivered to our home a day late, they were left with someone I whose identity I still do not know, and the individual who your delivery person left the flowers with opened the attached envelope without my permission. While I’m uncertain whether this might constitute a federal offense on their part, I can certainly tell you that for a first-time purchaser of your goods, I am utterly disappointed with the way that you handled the delivery. I followed the events of delivery with anticipation throughout the day and called you as soon as I returned home and discovered that NO FLOWERS WERE IN MY HOME AND NO NOTICES WERE LEFT REGARDING ANY DELIVERY ATTEMPTS BECAUSE YOU DELIVERED THEM TO SOMEONE WHO DID NOT RESIDE AT THE SPECIFIED ADDRESS! Of course, I only discovered that AFTER I called your extremely helpful customer service representative, who told me that she would look into the matter the following day…

I would like to emphasize that I did not authorize for you to leave the flowers with anyone who did not reside at our address, that I paid close to one-hundred dollars for this bouquet, and that it would have been more acceptable for you to have held onto the flowers than to have left them with “my neighbor” (who obviously KNEW that the flowers were not for them, but opened the bouquet anyhow!). Oddly, the next morning, after I left for work, the same unknown neighbor left the bouquet at our front door with the envelope that they had opened and its contents intact and taped up.

Nonetheless, as I’m certain you know, people purchase flowers because they are ephemeral and are a celebration of the moments people share in life. On this occasion, the event was the swearing in ceremony of my roommate and girlfriend who was going to become an attorney that day. You did not deliver the product in the manner that I specified or to the address I specified.

I would like you to come up with (A) a description of the individual you left these flowers with, so that I may tell them about the repercussions of their opening our mail and keeping the flowers for an additional day, as well as consider prosecution for stealing and opening mail which did not belong to them, and (B) a serious effort on your part to make up for your deplorable attempt at “delivering” the product I purchased. Additionally, please refrain from contacting me by phone, especially during working hours, because I am so fed up with this scenario that the burden is simply on you to do your best to make up for this.

You already have my money. Do with it what you will, but also know that unless you do something significant to make up for this experience, I assure you that I will never utilize your services again.

Thank you for your time,

Sincerely,

moi.

191.

Today, there was a thread which ran across my thoughts and I had to pick it up and run with it:

“… I BAANG my own drum! Some think it’s noise; I think it’s PREETTY!” Further: “And SO WHAT if I love each feather and each spangle, WHY NOT try to see things from a different angle?”

Then, additionally, there’s this one:

Being raised by a sexually liberal parent, I had the fortune of being exposed to both of these songs at an age where sexuality, gender, identity, etc. were constructs that were malleable.  In essence, I was impressionable.  (Tim Curry, if you’re reading this- Thanks, man!)

At one point, I even remember playing the second song in a tape-player in junior high school and sharing it with a really strict math teacher about how awesome of a thought that it was.  We both agreed, but I can only imagine what a teacher in one of the poorer city’s in the nation’s public schools must have really thought about my potential at that point.  However, she was there, and I think that that says something about her degree of hopefulness.  (She was also a very good teacher).

But it comes down to this metaphor for me lately:

I AM the guy who bangs his own drum because I like the noise and think it’s pretty!  When it comes to this relationship in particular, my reservations ultimately come down to the conclusion that my partner disagrees and dislikes my metaphorical banging of my own drum.  That this difference was something that I truly believed in as a child and am now returning to grapple with is another point, entirely.

Lately, I’ve been struggling with feelings of attraction for other people in work as well as on the subway, in the bus, on walks, and in public with the GF.  Lately, we’ve been struggling with how we’re going to live our lives individually, without addressing how we will live together.  That omission is potentially a time-bomb waiting to explode.

For now, I’m keeping time during the rest measures.

Performance is always in the moment,

A N

190.

Seriously, it’s been over 190 posts and way more days in between them, but I am still not yet admitted as a member of the bar AND don’t yet have a real legal job.

However, after today’s interview, I have a feeling that the latter aspect might change. Besides having one of the best interviews of my life, my interviewer took the time to display some digital mastery (Read anonymized AWESOMENESS), cracked up a lot, and even made eyes about what a good candidate I was and then told me about it afterward.

If I get this position, I promise to post more.

Still, at least I didn’t feel like Stacy from Wayne’s World trying to court my interviewers this time around.

SCHWING!

I also have a lot of internal thoughts that I need to flesh out soon, so I will certainly post again in the very near future.

189.

The GF exhausts me emotionally. Since the surgery, we have not done it one time, and she seems oblivious to the act that I’m exhausted from waking up before her and typically going to bed after her.

More to the point, she doesn’t care that she’s being somewhat insensitive about it.

Look- I won’t say that I’m a “catch” proper- but that’s mainly due to self-esteem, body-hair, slight paunchiness, and a son who lives in another state, but I can’t get past the feeling that I deserve better while I’ve been creating a life with my girlfriend and sharing an apartment together.

I miss my family, MY friends, MY state, and doing the things that I enjoy like playing basketball, cooking, and playing music. Writing. Reading.

She lacks all direction except the desire to be domestic(ated) and lacks ambition.

The last part stings the most.

Give me someone worthy to love. I swear I’ve gone back to fantasizing about individuals I know for certain I would have been better off without just out of the sadness that this relationship engenders, sometimes.

Easy for her to have everything that she wants. She’s in a state with friends, family, and significant security.

I just wish that she’d attempt empathy.

She’s been a bitch lately.

A N

188.

When I consider my predicament, I end up thinking about potentials and reality; life and surviving; love and in love.

The truth is that I would like to be in love again.
The truth is that I can’t stand the GF’s family’s bullshit.
The truth is that I love working, but hate work because it takes up my time.
The truth is that I want to fuck people violently and passionately. More the latter.
The truth is that I’m ambitious.
The truth is that I want to break up with the GF often.
The truth is that we’re hardly happy.
The truth is that I’m staying.
The truth is that I miss my family.
The truth is that I am a horrible father.
The truth is that I am not a real professional.
The truth is that I would be a great professional.
The truth is that the GF’s father is a jerk.
The truth is that her brother is an asshole.
The truth is that her mother’s a simpleton.
The truth is that her sister’s a complainer.
The truth is that her other sister is cold, despite believing that she is a friendly person.
The truth is that I sometimes believe I could do so much more than what I am doing.
The truth is that I caught myself fearing that the GF’s family is associated with the mob; then feared for my life. I got over it.
The truth is that I shouldn’t write any of this.

-A N

187.

I had this dream that a person that I went to law school with was walking with me down a street when she told me that “it smells like [insert name of dying rust-belt city].” I agreed and I talked about how Brooklyn smelled like [city] too. We continued to walk and talk down fairly suburban streets at night. We talked about schools closing, etc., and what a loss it had been. Where she went to high school. Her parents.

Then, we were at my house and it was time to say goodbye. She leaned in for a friend kiss, but of course I pushed for a romantic-type kiss and pulled her inside of my house. We fumbled and fell to the flooor, where she told me that ’she feels so much more love right now than with her husband.’ Then, I rubbed her ass through her pants while we laid on the floor, and I got up.

After walking back, my mother and her lesbian lover were there. They ignored the girl, who was obviously uncomfortable, and laughed meanly about other things. So gay, those two- always poking jabs at their friends. It was a sucky thing to see, and they were trashing one of their closest friends (they had few). Then I woke up-

A N