A night not to forget

The moment before we kissed seemed to last forever.  Just the way I think a first kiss should be.  Looking into each others’ eyes, inching closer and closer until our lips finally touched…

But I’m getting ahead of myself.  🙂

My date on Thursday, which all my dear readers know had the potential to be truly disastrous, ended up far, far exceeding my expectations.

He had offered to pick me up from work, but since he works halfway between my work and the event, I ended up driving.  I was starting to majorly stress over the situation, especially because I had a last-minute wardrobe semi-crisis (which turned out fine.)  I wore a little black dress with a suit jacket over it, and some high heeled strappy black shoes which if I do say so myself are pretty sexy.  (EHB thought so too.  But again, I’m getting ahead of myself.)

I pulled up alongside his office and called him just as he was coming out of the building.  He was dressed great – a nice suit and a tie which he put on in the car, saying that he was embarrassed to be putting on his tie when we just met (which I thought was hilarious, given how bold it was that we were going to this event together, and that  was what embarrassed him?)  He looked like his pictures but a little less serious, and he also wears glasses which are totally cute. 

We had a good conversation on the drive and then we arrived at the event and immediately he was introduced to all my co workers, one after the other.  The event was typical of these lawyer events — a bunch of speeches that vary from mind numbingly self-congratulatory to inspiring, but at any rate go on waaaay too long.  He had bought us drinks right before dinner, but an hour later, the main course was still nowhere in sight, there were endless speeches going on, and we all needed a drink.  Bad.  Everyone at the table was starting to complain.

And guess what?  EHB totally saved the day.  He got up and came back a few minutes later.  Moments after that, the waiter appeared with not one, but two bottles of wine that EHB had purchased for the table.  Major brownie points for that.

Most of all, what I recall about the dinner was that it just felt so easy to be with him.  A couple of times I had to go say hi to people, and he did just fine chatting with my co-workers.  We spent a good amount of time whispering to each other, and things got more flirtatious.  Our knees were touching under the table.  I just felt a very strong sense of well-being.

After the event finally ended, it was only 9 pm, so we decided to go have a drink with my co-worker L. and her fiance.  We wandered down the street to the Standard (I just love that bar, and even more now!) and headed up to the roof.  It was a gorgeous night and it just felt so pleasant to be up there, having a drink, relaxing.  We ended up sort of wandering off from L. and her fiance, and going around back behind the pool where we discovered these great couches — ok, so they were glorified beds!  We lay back and sipped our drinks and talked and talked.  He’s really fascinating — he’s lived and traveled so many places in his life.  At some point I was starting to shiver and he stood up, took off his jacket and draped it over my bare legs.  He put his arm around me and we sat together, so close, and he helped me stay warm.  And it didn’t even feel like a sexual thing at that point — I mean, not that the attraction wasn’t there because it definitely was, but I mean that it felt like more than that.  Very sweet, and very simple.  He even told me that he had wanted to take my hand earlier in the night but that he had felt awkward.

At one point he said to me, “You feel very comfortable.”  And I felt the same way, like I could just be exactly myself and just be and enjoy the moment.  There were the great butterflies, but not the anxiety ridden butterflies of a first date — more the butterflies you get a little further down the road when things feel less uncertain.  There’s really no reason I should have felt that, but I did. 

And then we were sitting so close like that, with my right leg over his left, and looking at each other and smiling, and he started touching my hair very gently, brushing it out of my face (which kills me – in a good way), and our lips were so close but not touching yet, and I think I moved forward and kissed him.  So then we were kissing, and normally I am really not a PDA person unless I’m drunk (which I wasn’t), but it was so nice that I just didn’t care.

Eventually we decided to head out — had I not started to get so cold, I could have stayed there all night.  It was late by this point and way past my bedtime (especially for a “school night”) but neither of us wanted the night to end.  We headed back to get my car and he grabbed my hand, and we walked, hand in hand, through the streets of downtown.  At one point I was shivering and he stopped and exclaimed, “Oh, you’re so cold!” and put his arms around me and just stood there holding me. 

So we went back to his work so he could get his car and agreed that the next stop would be a bar closer to me, Lola’s.  He told me to start heading home and he’d call me.  But he had been unable to find his BlackBerry earlier.  So I went home, fed Noodles, changed my shoes, no call.  I called him but no answer.  So in a total leap of faith, I decided to head to Lola’s.  And sure enough, I parked a couple of blocks away and as I walked towards the bar, there he was walking toward me.  (His BB, incidentally, was in my car!)  So we hung out there for a while and it was more of the same — talking and smooching.  Finally, after 1 am, he walked me back to my car and kissed me goodnight.

Then when he got home he texted me that it was a night “not to forget.”  Hear, hear.

So there you have it, dear readers.  I have attempted to shed my superstitions for one night and actually dish.  EHB and I have our 2nd date on Tuesday night for a late dinner (as of now, 10 pm, since I have trial starting tomorrow…normally I would just postpone everything until after trial but I want to see this boy again sooner rather than later!) so I will keep you posted….

 

A Change Would Do You Good

I know my dear readers are probably very disappointed in me because I have not yet dished on Thursday night’s blind date.  And you will be even more disappointed when I say that actually,  I am not going to dish like I said I would.

Now, if it had been a total disaster, I would have blooged about it in a heartbeat.  But let’s just say that it was the best night I’ve had in a long time, and the best first date I’ve had since…well, maybe ever! One of my many crazy attributes is that I somehow believe that if I blog about someone, it will jinx it.  Also, I know I always gush about this guy and that guy, and then when things don’t work out I feel stupid for having been so gushy.  (My friend T. has begun to tell me, when I start a sentence with “I just have a feeling that…”  — “No offense, SF, but given your guy situations over the past year, maybe you shouldn’t give those “feelings” so much weight.”)   So for now, my lips are sealed.  But if I were to gush…there is plenty of gush-worthy material.  🙂

All that excitement, though, doesn’t change the fundamentally restless-but-lethargic feeling I’ve been having recently.  I think it’s time to change things up, but how?  (Yes, I am actively in search of a therapist now, averse though I might be to the process.  ICK.)  Tonight my internet searches have ranged from condos in West Hollywood –I am being pressured from all sides to think about buying a place — to law jobs in New York.  (Yes, I know I don’t actually want to be a lawyer in NYC.  But the ad was for a fluent Spanish speaker for their “Latin American practice” which made my heart do a little flip.)  And I am always saying I wished I had lived there at some point in my younger life, as though I am SO OLD and decrepit now that I couldn’t possibly consider it. 

On Thurs night, I was telling EHB (who lived in NY for a year and loved it) that I wish I could have lived there and he was like, “So live there for a year.”  I think his reaction is probably TOO far on the opposite end of the spectrum — obviouslysuch a huge change isn’t as easy as snapping my fingers — but what if I am living my life with too much fear and caution?  What if 10, 20, 30 years from now all those “what-ifs” catch up with me and turn into regrets?  Will I really wish that I had lived in NY, San Francisco, etc?  Or will I be content that I lived my whole adult life in LA?  There’s a fine line between being content and just suffering from inertia.

 I just don’t know.  What do you think, dear readers? 

The most adventurous thing I’ve done this year

Warning, dear readers: I am about to confirm to all of you that I am officially crazy when it comes to all things dating-related.  This recent turn of events was enough to make my friend T., who has pretty much seen all my dating craziness, say “I’m speechless.”  Here goes.

As you know, I had done a fairly long stint with online dating, during which time I experienced a lot of first dates and a lot of “deaths.”  (You know, not real confirmed deaths, but guys dropping off the face of the earth — and what other explanation is there??)  In the middle of May I resigned from Match, and at the beginning of June I did the same with eHarmony.  I really wasn’t missing them at all, either.   Online dating can be extremely frustrating and way too time consuming. 

But then I had my most recent dating-related confusion/angst (about which I have been purposely vague – let’s just say I think it is decidedly a He’s Just Not That Into Me situation, though I still like the guy), and this confusion coincided with my receipt of an email from eHarmony offering me a special rate if I rejoined.

Being of the opinion that sometimes the best antidote for fretting about a boy is fretting about LOTS of different boys, I rejoined (against my better judgment).  Did the eHarmony process become any less aggravating in my three week hiatus?  Did the questions become any less daunting?  Did my selection of miniature Asian men decrease in favor of men who come up higher than my chin?  No, no, and no.

But, dear readers, I did start corresponding with one fellow with whom I’d been matched just a few days before I ditched my subscription the last time.  We somehow made it through the eHarmony process.  I even managed to answer the annoying essay questions — including the one that most instills me wth dread: “What’s the most adventurous thing you’ve done this year?”  (Thank GOD for that white water rafting trip.  “Adventurous” isn’t exactly the 1st word I’d use to describe myself.  Or the 10th, or the 100th.)

Anyway, we made it past all the nonsense and started the normal emailing.  He’s funny and smart (but his emails are normal, not the long and TOO funny / well written type that signal that the guy will never ever live up to his emails).  He’s cute — and tall.  He even likes cats.  So far, so good. 

Yesterday morning, he emailed me and asked if I might want to have drinks on Thursday night.  I responded that I’d like to, but that my firm is receiving an award for my pro bono case and I have to go to the awards dinner.  Despite my very whiny post about my lack of guest, I really hadn’t been concerning myself with it since I wrote that (yet another example of writing something down helping to diffuse the intensity of my reaction) and I realized that it was a very cool honor and was fine doing my own thing an just enjoying the moment and being proud of myself. 

Anyway, I told him over email that I had the dinner that night.   Later that same day, he appeared on Gmail chat and we started chatting.  We were talking back and forth about all the various things keeping us busy (he has been working long hours, he is going out of town next weekend, etc. )  Then things took a turn for the very, very unexpected:

eHarmony Boy (hereafter “EHB”):  anyway, what i wanted to say is that if you have any time, i can try to meet up at some point even if it’s just for a little bit

SF: yeah, i’d like that

 EHB:  what’s not exciting is when you get talking with someone and then they quickly become a memory.  it’s all about the momentum 

 SF: yeah I am not a fan of the long drawn out email thing.  I don’t need more email pals 🙂  so, I concur!

EHB: email pals, ha ha

SF: I could probably do later drinks sometime this week, just not thurs.  or we can play it by ear for next week

EHB: I guess I’ll stop pushing for an invitation to the special dinner where no one would have any idea who I am.  😉

WHOA!!!!!!  Come again?   I know what you’re thinking, dear readers.  Come on, SF.  There is no way that this guy actually suggested that you go on a blind date to your work function.

Oh, but he did.  And what did I say?  Well, there’s not even any suspense, is there?  You know I said yes. 

And this is how I have managed to combine the most nervewracking things possible into one single event.  1)  I am meeting this guy for the 1st time.  2)  I am meeting this guy for the 1st time in the presence of several of my co workers (oh and by the way we are now sitting at the firm table, where he will be subject to up-close scrutiny); and 3) I have to go up on stage to accept the award.

ACK!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

One blessing is that I don’t have to give a speech.  That might actually send me into a full blown panic attack.  As it is, I am actually getting rather excited.  (Once I got over the “what will I wear” panic, that is.)   This will either be sheer genius or it will be an unmitigated disaster, but at any rate I’ll get a good blog out of it.   And at a minimum it will be good for other peoples’ entertainment — my co-worker L., who will be at the dinner, was pretty much beside herself with excitement that she will get to witness this whole event go down.

And one more plus — I think this might beat out white water rafting in the adventure category…don’t you?

To be continued…

I guess that’s why they call it the blues

I meant to go to bed early tonight.  I really did.  But I was talking on the phone, then I was eating a belated dinner, then I was watching something sappy on TV, then I was chatting online with my friend A., and somehow the hours just slipped by. 

I’ve been having trouble sleeping lately and I think it’s a combination of factors.  First — drinking Diet Coke in the afternoon/evening, as always, is a killer.  Bad SF, bad.  Need to wean myself off DC and at the very least, if I am not capable of cutting the soda cold turkey, back onto Diet Sprite (which I convinced myself I loved but I think I may have had one two many of and now the thought makes me feel a bit ill.)  What’s that you say?  Water?  Yes, I know, I know…that is the next step.

Second, stress always does it to me.  Tomorrow I have to take not one, not two, but THREE depositions, and I have a feeling I will wake up in the middle of the night (read: two hours from now) in a cold sweat with my heart racing.  The partner on this case seems to pretty much trust me to do anything, which in my humble opinion is a questionable judgment call, at best.  You remember I’m a lowly third year associate, right?  Right?

Third, my darling cat (bless his attention-whorish heart) has seen fit to start waking me up with meows, steadily increasing in volume, beginning at about 4:30 in the morning every day.  If only he weren’t so damn cute… (Story of my life, right?  Big sigh.)  He won’t even do the normal cat thing of jumping on the bed; instead, he’ll lay outside of my door and meow plaintively until I 1) shut the door (somewhat muffling the meows); 2) fall back asleep (highly unlikely, given the stress factor above); or (and this is the most likely scenario, because I’m a sucker) 3) trudge sleepily out of bed to feed him. 

Let me ask you — is there ANY reason for a cat who gets fed every morning and night and who always has dry food in his bowl and who weighs at least 15 lbs as of the last vet appointment, ANY reason why he should be fed in the middle of the night like a baby?  No, of course not.  Will I do it anyway to shut him up?  You bet.  Who’s the boss of the house, anyway?  Not even a contest.  In the month of June so far, Noodles: 15, SF: 0.

And finally, I’ve just been feeling a sense of general malaise (really wish I could use that word without thinking of Dr. Evil, because it is so apropos here).  I swear that I will elaborate more on this, dear readers, but for now my eyelids are closing (miracle!!!) and I need to take advantage.

till then,   SF

I Bruise Easily

I’ve always bruised easily.  Combine this with the fact that I am one of the clumsiest individuals on the planet and I am constantly bumping into things unwittingly, it’s not uncommon for me to have random black and blue marks on my legs or arms. 

It occurred to me this weekend as I was contemplating one such random mark that I don’t just bruise easily physically — I also bruise easily emotionally.  And just as with the physical bruises, I find them difficult to avoid, but they take a lot longer to heal. 

I had a heart-to-heart with my best childhood friend M. a couple of weeks ago, and she told me that she was concerned about me and some of the things I’d been blogging about, like the situation with C.  She basically told me that she was worried I wasn’t loving myself enough and I was ending up with a series of guys who didn’t love or respect me either.  She suggested, in the kindest and most constructive and loving way possible, that I had some things to work through and that perhaps I should seek therapy.  (She said it in a much more comprehensive and thoughtful way than that, but I’m summarizing.)

Of course, I pushed back.  I knew what she was saying was coming from a good place, but I reassured her that I was happy and that my life was good.  I told her that she shouldn’t worry about me, because things aren’t always as dramatic as they sound in my blog, and that my blog is cathartic and in a way it is my therapy.  I told her that I had learned my lesson from the C. situation and was looking out for myself and yada yada yada.

Methinks the lady doth protest too much, right?

The truth is, as much as I’d like for all the things I told M. to be true, and as much as I believed them when I was saying them, there is a lot of wisdom in everything that M. told me.  And the more that I try to say that everything is all sunshine and kittens and roses, the more I become like the proverbial ostrich with its head in the sand, ignoring all my own issues as they just snowball.  It’s just so hard to admit that there are things I need to deal with, that I can’t blame on this guy or that bad day, because that means that I would actually have to look inside myself and make some real changes.  And frankly, that scares the shit out of me.

As you know, dear readers, in my dating life, as in all areas of my life, I tend to go into things with my heart wide open.  I’m trusting.  I wear my heart on my sleeve.  I give guys the benefit of the doubt, probably way past the point where they actually deserve it.  When I meet someone who I like, someone who I click with, I don’t follow any of those age-old dating rules.  Usually this backfires.  Every time I think, this one is different.  Every time I’m wrong.

It disappoints me every time that I open my heart to someone and they pull away from me.  It disappoints me most when I felt I actually had reason to trust the person in question.  But these days, the person I’m most disappointed in is myself.  Because I know I need to love myself more and look out for myself more.  No one else is going to do it for me — at least not until I do.

Why I shouldn’t drink Diet Coke late at night

Because inevitably I end up waking up at 4 am (yes, I have been up for over an hour) unable to fall back asleep.  And not particularly awake/inspired enough to work or blog or do anything productive.  Ugh.

But while I have your attention, two things:

1)  Thanks so much, dear readers, for all the kind words yesterday. It means a lot. 

2)  The one thing that finally broke through my sad mood (at least momentarily) was the wonder known as Human Tetris.  If you haven’t seen this before, please check it out.  I don’t want to over-hype it (thereby spoiling it) but let me know if you get a laugh out of it or if it’s just me!

And now, back to try to salvage whatever night-ish hours are left…

Not Tough Enough

I don’t think I’m exaggerating when I say that this has been the most upsetting day of my legal career so far.

I’ve shared with you about how, after much prayer (and hard work), the immigration judge in San Diego granted my client asylum.  That was probably the best moment of my legal career so far. 

But there was a catch (isn’t there always). The government reserved its right to appeal, so my client has remained in detention in the meantime. Yesterday was the last day to file an appeal. And of course, they filed it.

And here’s where it gets worse. Despite the judge having granted my client asylum, my poor client has to sit in detention for months more while the appeal is briefed and decided.  My client, who has all sorts of serious health problems.  My client, who has been harassed and mistreated in detention because she is transgender.  My client, who has already been in detention since March 2007.

And it gets even worse.  In most cases you can at least seek a setting of bond.  But my client had put in a declaration (which I translated and filed) stating that her family (who had abused her) had connections to the government and that because of that, she had been jailed for a robbery she didn’t commit.  Knowing now what I knew then, I would never have allowed her to include that information.  Because what that means is that she is considered by the US government to be an “aggravated felon” and can’t get out on bond.  And that’s also the grounds on which the govt is appealing the grant of asylum. 

I feel fairly confident (KNOCK ON WOOD) that we will win in the end, in some way or another.  But in the meantime, I feel absolutely sick to my stomach that my client is stuck in detention.  I feel guilty that this is all my fault.  I feel that my sense that I had actually done something good for someone has vanished.

I think I’m not tough enough for this job.  After I yelled at government counsel on the phone and all but hung up on her, what did I do?  I shut my office door and I cried.  Not useful, I know, but I was so frustrated and upset, it was the only thing I could do.  In fact, my office door is still closed because I suspect I may not have had my last cry of the day.

What do you do, dear readers, when you screw up and you can’t fix it?

It’s Official – I’m Crazy

I can hear my dear readers saying simultaneously, “Well, we knew that.”  But I’m not just talking about the weekly dose of neuroses that I divulge on this blog.  I’m talking about a real, serious mental disorder.  And if I’m guessing correctly based on what I know of you, dear readers, particularly my blogger friends– I’d bet that some of you are afflicted with it too. My question is, what is the cure for this particular disorder?  It probably does not include endless games of Scrabulous (some people I know, ahem Knittikins, insist on starting like 5 games with me at once), nor Gmail chatting, nor blogging, nor reading other people’s blogs (thank you J. for enlightening me about Google Reader, the new love of my life), nor any of the other things that make my work day tolerable.  And call me crazy if you will, but we all need some way to get through the day in one piece, right?

 In fact, I’ve been thinking that I want to devote even more time to this here blog.  Often I don’t write unless the mood strikes or unless something in particular inspires me to —

[OMG.  I had to interrupt this to say that I just saw my first ever 90210 trailer on the CW — yes, I am watching a Gossip Girl rerun, what of it? — and hearing that oh-so-familiar theme song made my little heart go pitter patter.  If only I didn’t have to wait till the fall!!  Is it wrong that I Iove shows about high school students as much now as when I was 12?  Wait — don’t answer that.]

–Anyhoo, as I was saying, I think maybe I need to force myself to be a bit more dedicated to the blogginess.  So starting today, I am going to attempt to post every other day.  I’d like to work my way up to every day, but that seems a bit ambitious right now, so…every other day it is.

I also want to spruce up my blog and add more photos and fancy shmancy stuff.  But…and this is embarrassing to admit…I am sadly a low-tech girl in a high-tech world.   And at the risk of being shunned by the blog world, the truth is that I just don’t know how to do the things I want to do on my blog.  Now is when I’m hoping that some bloggers more savvy than I–read, every blogger out there–may have some advice for how I might make Single/Fabulous more, well, fabulous!  Anyone?  Bueller?

So I’ve been sharing with all of you some of my dreams for what I might like to have happen in my life.  I still don’t know if the bookstore is what I will pursue or not — though, I have gotten loads of awesome advice on things I could do in conjunction with my bookstore.  I think right now, taking everyone’s suggestions, it’s something like a bookstore/wine bar/record store/knitting shop/cupcake store.  A little eclectic, but it might work, right?  🙂

Anyway, even as I continue to ponder it, I find that the bookstore has become that “happy place” that I go to in my mind when things start to get stressful or hectic or upsetting at work (read: at least once a day.  No one ever said being a lawyer was tranquil).  Ever since my trip to Maui last year, my “happy place” became the memory of the snorkeling excursion I went on with my dad.  I have a beautiful sea turtle photograph on the bookshelf in my office, along with a carved wooden sea turtle (which I originally bought as a souvenir for my then-boyfriend, and kept when he decided to break up with me the very night I returned from Maui), so every so often when I am feeling particularly overwhelmed, I try to stop for a moment, take a breath, and picture that I am swimming through that beautiful blue water, fish and turtles swimming past me, so far far away from my everyday stresses.  Well, in the past week or two since the bookstore idea began a’ brewin’, when I have felt overwhelmed I’ve just pictured myself working in the bookstore, exactly how I have always dreamed it, and it brings a smile to my face.  I’ve been asked to describe the bookstore, and it’s weird because I can SEE it in my mind’s eye perfectly but I can’t describe it well at all.  Obviously if I start to get serious about it I will need a business plan and all the nitty-gritties, but for now it’s best described as a feeling.  (Ps. Sarah, I may well take you up on your offer to run the business side of things. 🙂 )

One last thing before I get in my PJs and retire to my room to read — yes, I am totally hooked on my most recent read (which will be the subject of a future post once I finish it) and I would have stayed in bed starting at 9 pm on a Saturday night, reading, had someone not persuaded me to bust out the rally monkeys — the mini-saga of Cute Boy has come to an end.

And for once — once in my life,  I tell you! — I am proud to say that I was the one to put the brakes on the (yes, self-created) drama.  As you know, dear readers, I have only met this guy a whopping two times, though we have traded a bunch of random emails and have made plans to hang out that have never quite panned out.  A couple of weeks ago, I was putting together a little happy hour get together with a girl I know at Pink Taco.  Yes, I know – and imagine that business lunches take place there!  Even better is that I just discovered, in looking for a link to the restaurant, that it has its own Wikipedia entry:

Pink Taco 

is a Mexican restaurant chain that has earned notoriety[1] for its name, which is the same as a slang term for a human vagina. The president and CEO, Harry Morton, contends it comes from a menu item[2] and claims that if the restaurant were truly “vagina-themed” there would be “vaginas all over the walls.”[3]

 

 Now that is classic, dear readers.

On second thought, I don’t think I can top that for now, so this will be a to-be-continued!

At the start of me

….I’d plot a course to the source of the purest little part of me…

My last post was such a Debbie Downer post, and I am feeling so much better now (thanks to all of you for your kind words — sometimes I really just need to whine to get it out of my system) that I want to share with all of my dear readers some things I’m excited about (big and small).

1.  The Weekend

Tomorrow’s Friday and it continues to be the calm before the proverbial storm…even though trial is coming up way too soon (la la la la I’m in denial!!), somehow it looks like I won’t have to work this weekend.  Which is glorious.

2.  Nesting

My desire to decorate my walls (esp in my bedroom, where until today there was a lone framed photo of a sunset) has coincided perfectly and serendipitously with my ongoing de-cluttering project.  In going through the depths of my closet, I came up with a poster I love that I bought in Barcelona when I studied in Spain in college (um…EIGHT years ago!  sigh).  The poster is quite battered, having seen the walls of at least two dorm rooms and my old apartment, but no matter, I still love it.  So it is now gracing my bedroom wall.  Even better, I was going through a bag of goodies that I had kept from my post-bar trip to Spain, Greece and Italy three years ago, and I found no less than 15 or 20 awesome postcards — mostly of cool pieces of art like Dali, Picasso, El Greco, etc.  I think I bought and kept them all expecting that I would scrapbookmy trip (I sadly never did) or put them on my wall (I never did).  So now I’m creating sort of a cool arrangement on my wall with the beloved Barcelona poster as the centerpiece.  I only managed to get a few up tonight before I realized that it was 10:30 pm and an apartment resident could get killed for lesser crimes than hammering at that hour, so I tabled it for tomorrow.  But seeing all these things come together gives me such a warm fuzzy feeling, especially since I adore Spain and it brings back nothing but great memories.  Maybe I will post a photo when it’s all done.

3.  Pampering

My back has been hurting lately for no reason, and today I mentioned to my friend T. that maybe I would get a massage this weekend.  It turns out she still has a gift certificate to Burke Williams that we bought for her birthday, so now we are doing a mini spa day on Saturday.  Yay!  I feel more relaxed alreadt, just thinking about it.

4.  Dreaming

I know I don’t talk much about my job, but for the most part I do enjoy being a lawyer — even though it’s stressful.  I love the people I work with, it challenges me, and I have a lot of great opportunities.  Still, even when I’m relatively happy at work, I like to daydream about what other paths I could follow.  Having a stressful job at 28 when I’m single with no kids is one thing.  When I have to work late or on the weekends, no one misses me but my cat, so i can put nose to the grindstone.  I just don’t know if that’s something I want to do forever and ever.  So, my brainchild of the moment?  I have been contemplating what it would be like to open my own bookstore.

The way this came about was this.  I had been joking with some of my friends that if the law thing didnt work out for me, I would open a boutique that sold things for cats called “Crazy Cat Lady” (or CCL for those in the know).  My plans for the store became more detailed, and over the weekend I was sharing the joke with my mom.  She commented that there was a bookstore we used to go to on the Oregon Coast, where there were cats that lived in the store, and when I was a little girl I said that I was going to open a bookstore someday.

And the crazy thing?  I still remember that store even though I probably haven’t been there in 15 to 20 years.  I still think about that store, and what it would be like to own a place like that.

So then I began giving it some thought.  Isn’t there something powerful about your childhood dreams?  It’s like it goes to the essence of who you are.  Some of my childhood dreams, like becoming an elementary school teacher, I discarded and have never regretted.  But there are some that still hold all the wonder and fascination that they did when I was a child.  The bookstore is one.  Being a writer is the other.  (And really, don’t those two dreams go perfectly hand-in-hand?)

So call me nutty, but I’m doing some research on what a venture like this would really entail.  For now it’s a pipe dream, but at some point it may become something real…I’ll keep you posted!

What were your dreams for your life when you were a child, dear readers?

***********

“1983” by John Mayer

I’ve these dreams I’m

Walking home

Home when it used to be

 And everything is

 As it was

Frozen in front of me

  

Here I stand

 6 feet small 

romanticizing years ago

it’s a bitter sweet feeling hearing “Wrapped Around Your Finger” on the

radio

 

 and these days

I wish I was 6 again

Oh make me a red cape

I wanna be Superman

 

 

 

Oh, if only my life was more like 1983

all these things would be more like they were at the

start of me

 had it made in 83

  

thinking bout my brother Ben 

I miss him every day

He looks just like his brother John

But on an 18 month delay 

Here I stand

6 feet small

and smiling cause I’m scared as hell

kind of like my life is like a sequel to a movie

 where the actor’s names have changed

 

oh well 

well these days

I wish I was 6 again

Oh make me a red cape

 I wanna be Superman

 

Oh, if only my life was more like

1983 

all these things would be more like they were at the

start of me

If my life was more like 1983

I’d plot a course to the source of the purest little part of me

 

and most my memories

have escaped me

or confused themselves with dreams

if heaven’s all we want it to be

send your prayers to me

 care of 1983

 

you can paint that house a rainbow of colors

rip out the floorboards

 replace the shutters but

that’s my plastic in the dirt

 whatever happened to my

 whatever happened to my

whatever happened to my lunchbox

 when came the day that it got

 thrown away and don’t you think I should have had some say

in that decision

 

 

….And Guest

Dear readers: I apologize in advance for what I’m sure will be the supremely whiny tone of this post.  I try to self censor my whining to a certain degree (though it may not seem that way!) but there are some days when I just can’t help it.  This is one of those days.

First, we have officially arrived in that oh-so-glorious time of year known in L.A. as “June Gloom.”  I know, I know, cry me a river, I live in a place where it’s sunny every day and I complain about a few overcast mornings.  Wah wah wah.  But it just sets the tone for the day.  (It may also not have helped that I I was listening to decidedly melancholy Jack Johnson songs on the way to work.  Hmm.)

I arrived at work and the harsh realization washed over me that because of our totally unsuccessful waste of a mediation yesterday, I am now forced to begin preparing for my fourth trial this year, which begins June 30.  As much as I have actually really enjoyed doing these trial, I I also enjoy, you know, having a life.  Bye, bye, life–see you in July.

I went to a meeting and when I came back, there was a message from a woman at a local bar organization.  My firm is getting a pro bono award based on that asylum case that I worked on, which is really awesome.  The awards dinner is coming up in 2 weeks.  But what I didn’t realize is that instead of getting to sit with my co-workers who show up to fill the table my firm bought, I will apparently be sitting at a separate table — presumably with the other award recipients.  That wouldn’t be bad (even though I don’t know them personally, I have emailed with some of them and they are very nice women) except for the kicker: the woman was calling to find out who I was bringing as my guest.

Most of the time, I’m pretty fine with being single.  But I must say that in these situations, being sans a plus-one is supremely sucky.  I had to take several deep breaths before I picked up the phone and called the woman back to tell her that I wouldn’t be bringing a guest.  I know it’s stupid, but I actually felt embarrassed to say that — to a woman I’ve never even met!  She sort of paused awkwardly and then told me, well, I have the option of bringing a complimentary guest, so just to let her know a few days before if I change my mind. 

After I hung up the phone, I was thinking back to a bruncheon event I went to several months ago where one of my co-workers was being honored for her pro bono work for a different organization.  She’s my office neighbor, also an associate and a year older than me.  A group of us came from the firm, and she also had her husband, parents and in-laws there.  I remember even at the time, watching how her husband was there at her side, beaming at her and supporting her and being proud of her, and I thought how I wish I had that.  And I still really, really wish I had that.  Of course I don’t want to be with someone for the sake of being with someone — I want the right someone. 

My mom asked me why I didn’t just invite one of my friends to accompany me to the event, but I don’t know; it just seems inappropriate somehow.  So instead I decided to invite this lawyer who became my co-counsel on the case a few months back and has helped me tremendously from the beginning.  He was working for a local nonprofit and giving me lots of advice, then he transferred to a nonprofit in San Diego, my case eventually got moved to San Diego and he kept helping me.  And — this is uber embarrassing — somewhere along the way I started to develop this half-joking crush on him.  Of course, I have never to this day met this guy.  We have exchanged tons of emails and phone calls (always about the case), but all I knew aside from his job was the fact that he was about my age.  But I would joke to my co-worker L. that he was going to fall in love with me, he just didn’t know if because he hasn’t met me yet.

So I sent him an email asking if he wanted to come with me since he worked so hard on the case.  And he replied that he was really touched that I’d invited him, but he couldn’t make it because he’d be in Hawaii.

….

On his HONEYMOON.

Again, I know that it is supremely idiotic and nonsensical to be disappointed to learn that a guy I’ve never met is getting married.  But I seriously wanted to just stop my work and sit and pout.

I can just hear all my friends screaming at me simultaneously as I say this, so I must preface it by saying I know this statement is irrational and fundamentally untrue, but the whole lack-of-guest situation makes me feel like some kind of a failure. 

So then I went to a meeting tonight and, you know how when you get fixated on something that’s all you can see?  Like when you have a new haircut you dont like and all you can do is look at people’s hair?  Well tonight all I could see were all the sparkly wedding rings on everyone’s fingers.  And I just felt disgusted with myself because I really have never, ever been that girl.  On the one hand, I feel like since I was engaged and we broke up, I’m in absolutely no rush to jump into anything, and I have really become accustomed to having my own life and doing my own thing.  But as I get older, being single becomes more and more rare and I start to feel like a weird outlier.   It’s not that I’m unhappy or envious of all my friends who are getting married — to the contrary, I love helping them and celebrating with them and I think it’s wonderful — but I can tell that I’m just going to feel more and more…different.  And that’s hard.

Then I came home today and greeting me was an (adorable, by the way) wedding invitation from one of my close friends.  And on the envelope?  You guessed it: “Miss Single/Fabulous & Guest.”

I don’t know, dear readers.  None of these things should really upset me, I realize.  But somehow today, I just haven’t been able to shake the feeling that I just want to burst into tears.

As I said…I guess it’s just one of those days.