plath says...

Some things are hard to write about.  After something happens to you, you go to write it down, and either you overdramatize it or underplay it, exaggerate the wrong parts or ignore the important ones.  At any rate, you never write it quite the way you want to.

which explains my writer's block as of late.  in part, at least.  in part, i've just been working long hours and have felt as though i have nothing to share or offer to the internets.  i've felt, at times, that i'm drowning.  

in addition to that, and more relevant to Sylvia's words above, something has happened, and continues to happen, and i'm not yet able or ready to put it down on not-paper.  i'm going through something that i can't explain easily, as it's unprecedented in me.  i am caught in the middle of a struggle between my own pride and ambitions, and my happiness and well being.  


what do you do when that which you've worked for, and strived for, is the thing that makes you miserable?

in my heart i believe that discontent and sadness can be cathartic.  they can also motivate us to do something exciting but scary, to strike out blindly for something unknown.  sometimes it seems that the unknown must be better than the status quo, and i can't help but wonder if that is sometimes beginning of great progress.  


once i figure out what i'm doing with myself, maybe i'll be able to write it the way i want to.
  

it's the season

today it became winter.


really, just today.  some time around noon, i think. i walked to work with a light fleece jacket, sweating in the unseasonably warm and humid air.  i walked home from work shivering despite my scarf and fast, butt-firming pace. 

It's the season of cold, making warmth a divine intervention.

i smiled as the lyrics came through my iPod.  i love this song,* and it's finally appropriate -- though i've been listening to Christmas music for almost a week nonetheless.  irregardless!!  

i have a case of the Christmas spirit.  i'm ready for some time at home (believe it or not.  mostly just because it's an excuse to take a few days off work).  i'm ready for some much-deserved gifts from my family.  i'm ready for a new year.  i'm ready for a change.

a big change.  



*does that make me an athiest? either way, thanks, T. 

    

post(ing) secret(s)

FYI

i received a cute housewarming gift.

i think that's -- PRETTY COOL.  i have really nice friends.*  cute.  lovely.  thoughtful friends.


that's all.


*thanks, stud. 
   

living underwater

"I'm living underwater.  Everything seems slow and far away.  I know there's a world up there, a sunlit quick world where time runs like dry sand through an hourglass, but down here, where I am, air and sound and time and feeling are thick and dense."

-Audrey Niffenegger in The Time Traveler's Wife


i know that feeling.  

    

post(ing) secret(s)

aged a bit today

today was my law school class's 2.5 year reunion.  


not officially, of course.  who would have a 2.5 year reunion?  no, we reunited today for a funeral of one of our classmates, one of our friends.  one of our own.  


it was clear that we weren't accustomed to funerals of our peers.  sure, we've said good-bye to grandparents, relatives.  but we're not used to saying goodbye to one of our own.  our parents might be. our grandparents certainly are used to doing so.  

are we allowed to say, "It's good to see you"?  are we allowed to say, "Things are good"?  are we allowed to ask what's new with work, and boyfriends, and to give good news? 

i don't know.  most of us didn't seem sure about what was appropriate, because but we're not accustomed to the situation.there was so much love in the room, but we didn't feel comfortable smiling.  we were happy to see each other, but too sad about saying good-bye to a lovely friend to enjoy the reunion.  i guess we're not used to seeing the same people who we usually see drinking at engagement parties now crying into tissues.  we're not used to seeing our old beer pong partners acting as pall bearers.  

we're too young for this.  or at least we were.  i think my friends and i aged a bit today.
 

walsch says...

Your light is seen, your heart is known, your soul is cherished by more people than you might imagine.  If you knew how many others have been touched in wonderful ways by you, you would be astonished.  You are far more wonderful than you think you are… Rest with that. Rest easy with that. Breathe again. You are doing fine. More than fine. Better than fine. You’re doin’ great. So relax. And love yourself today.

 
some days you just need a self-indulgent pep-talk.  or is that just me?

*breathes*
  
   

post(ing) secret(s)

shine for no reason

i often notice people -- well, usually lawyers.  older lawyers, especially, because those are the people around whom i spend my days -- who smile only when someone important is looking at them.  whether that important person is a client, a juror, or more often a prospective client or business associate.  smiling as they hand over their business cards.  hoping to drum up new business.  hoping to make money.  hoping to appear to have charisma.  hoping to appear as more than an empty, workaholic shell.  

i don't ever want to be like that, for the record.  'ya hear me?  

i don't want to ever be the type of person who only shines, who only smiles, as a performance.  i want to shine most when i am around people i see every day.  i want to shine when i'm giving directions to an old woman on the street, when i'm asking a paralegal to do something for me, when i'm ordering a coffee at starbucks. 

everybody deserves a smile, not just those people from whom we want something.

and sure, some days it's tough to smile.  sometimes it takes a little extra effort, and you may have to force a little bit of light.  but the surprising part is, when you do try, before you know it, it becomes genuine.

just something that's been on my mind.

post(ing) secret(s)

why i'm SUCH a good person

do you think that you're a good person? 


just curious.  i don't mean to pry.


i've never thought to myself, "I'm a good person."  although i do occasionally say, "Because I'm *such* a good friend."  but yesterday morning i found myself thinking that i might be a good person, in a way, perhaps, just a little bit, possibly.

i was leaving a subway train, heading toward the stairs toward street (aka non-urine-smelling) level, when a voluptuous black woman rushed past me down the stairs toward the imminently departing train.

i wanted her to make it.  
i wanted her to breathe a sigh of relief. 
i wanted her to make it to work on time.
i wanted her big boobs to fit onto the train.


i turned back to check.


she made it.

i smiled.


i was unreasonably glad. 


does that make me a good person? is the sky blue?  there is only one answer to questions such as these.


 

to be a jerk or not to be a jerk

how bad does a zit have to be before i can guiltlessly cancel a date? 


here are the factors:

1) it's bad. similar* to:

2) he's nice, and it's not our first date.
3) he's not the type to care about certain things, but
4) i am. 
5) i really am. 


:-/  this is tough. 


p.s. i made it through my adolescence without acne, so why do i get random zits now?  stress?  not washing my face for 12 hours during the day? not enough vodka during the week?


most likely the latter.


*please rest assured that i looked through thousands upon tens of photographs of zits before i came to the conclusion that this was the most similar to the one currently plaguing me.

an update

tonight my Ma asked if i'm coming home for Thanksgiving.  my response was, "Wow, that's almost here?"  time flies.  and the real answer to the question was, "Probably not."  i want to sleep that weekend.

work stinks, but i tell myself that everybody feels that way.  remember that old joke, "Oh, you hate your job? There's a support group for that.  It's called EVERYBODY, and they meet at the bar."  yeah, i tell myself that. and i chuckle.  i chuckle so much :-/

it's cold in the morning.  my bed is heaven.  have i told you lately that i love my bed?


speaking of which, my Pottery Barn faux fur throw feels exactly like my catticus.  i never know which one i brush against in the middle of the night.  neither of them purrs.  

i can't think of anything that i want for Christmas/Chanukah.  my Ma keeps asking.  i told her that vodka is a safe bet.


i'm ready for that trip to Ireland. time to start thinking ahead and convincing my BFF it's time. 

i bought Ricky Martin's memoir, entitled "Me" most likely because the title "Yo" was already taken by Julia Alvarez (love that libro).   am i ashamed to be reading something that sounds so vapid? NO!  though i did turn it face down at the check-out counter.    because it would've made me look gay or whatever.


i have a bunch of new music on my iPod, including new Ke$ha and Rihanna and Nelly.  but every morning on my way to work all i want to listen to is This Ain't A Love Song (below, see?) and La Belle et Le Bad Boy.  over and over again, on repeat.  i should just make a playlist of those two songs and call it, "Grumpy Mornings."  ask my roommates.  i'm not a morning person after all.


i have to go watch Vampire Diaries now.  it's my guil--- no.  it's just a pleasure.  all pleasure.

ask me what difference