August 2, 2010
I need to start packing up my apartment so that I can move at the end of the month.
And by “can move” I mean “be economically forced out of the best apartment ever into a 5th floor walk-up 2 bedroom”. That’s right. I’m getting a roommate. I am going to have to live with a girl. I haven’t lived with a girl since 2002. And I, for one, am NOT looking forward to it.
My roommate, on the other hand, is waiting for me to move in with bated breath. We can share clothes! And food! And we’ll never have to be alone because we’ll be living together!
But, um, I looooove being alone. I’m pretty good at it. I like not answering to anyone, coming home and making noise if I feel like it. Going to bed at 7pm. Doing my homework in the living room. Leaving dishes in the sink. Laundry on my bed. My decorations. My stuff. My clothes. My food.
I worked so hard to be independent after my divorce that this seems like a massive move in the wrong direction. Financially necessary, but emotionally painful. Here I am, at 27, getting a roommate. I feel like I’m about to mourn the loss of some major freedoms, and can’t help but wonder what I would have thought of this situation a few years back.
While I love my roommate, there are two ways I’d like to be living right now, and that’s a)alone or b)with someone who I have sex with.
And no, boys, I’m not having sex with her.
May 21, 2010
We did it. The first year. The storied year. The year that everyone promises will be the worst.
It has, hands down, been the most jarring, enjoyable, and ridiculous experience of my life. I am so completely different from I was on August 20th. I fell in love. I made new friends. Had my heart completely broken. Got back up. Struggled against the darkest depression I’ve ever experienced. And I grew.
We finished our exams at 12:30pm. Bouncing up and down in our seats while our exams loaded into the system. Hugs all around. Comments on the boy’s ridiculous Western facial hair grown just for the finals. Because thanks, J, that’s not distracting for any of us. And no, NO ONE wants a ride.
We threw laptops and outlines into our lockers and didn’t look back. By 1:30pm we were slurring and there was more hugging and complete exhaustion.
And at 1:34 I got the call. The call that I had in fact been chosen for an internship at a family law firm that specializes in Divorce Mediation. Exactly what I want to do. Working for a woman I’m referring to as Future Me.
So there was crying and more beers and then a burger and far too many phone calls to my mother. Bless her for being my best friend. Bless time for making her the person I want to call when I’m falling down drunk and crying and happy all at the same time. Bless redial. Also, bless the cab that got me home at 6pm where I passed out with my Hunters on.
So yes, I now have something to say I’m doing for the summer when everyone asks. Something amazing. Something forty hours of unpaid a week amazing. And a class twice a week. But I’ll be able to do it. Because if I managed to do this… I can certainly do that. Though the idea of writing a book over the summer was tempting (which is what I promised myself I’d do if I didn’t get the internship).
That and my overwhelming desire to create a family will have to wait. More transitions. I love this life.
May 14, 2010
I’m alive. I may not have showered. I may be sleeping on a 1/4 of a bed because the rest of it is strewn with clothing and things I don’t have time to put away. I may have eaten ice cream for lunch and gelato for dinner.
Haven’t run in days. Juggling men. Throwing out lines like “if an ex-boyfriend comes crawling back I thought he was supposed to bring flowers. Or gin. Or remorse. Or gin.”
And if my aching ovaries could just give it a rest for the next week or the next two years that would be fantastic.
May 3, 2010
Finals start this week.
The city of Boston has no potable water.
Thus, no coffee to be found.
Currently juggling multiple men, internship interviews, unnecessary weight loss, and legal subjects.
I’ll be back on the 19th.
March 23, 2010
I have a date on Friday night. With someone who I blew off six months ago because I was completely consumed with what I thought was going to be my person.
Ahem. And this date on Friday night may actually be interesting. He owns a successful company in an industry I understand. We have a mutual friend. He has the same name as my ex-husband (oh I’m so not kidding).
And he would like to take me out for drinks to a very popular bar where it’s a 50/50 shot that my freshly ex-boyfriend will be running his evening event of charming every attractive woman in Boston. Really looking forward to it.
March 17, 2010
I don’t come home to Maine that often. In fact, I think I’ve spent one night in my parent’s house since I moved to Boston. But here I am, on a day that began at O’Hare and is ending, please god, with a lot of beer.
My life in Boston has been a fantastic ride over the past seven months– the ups and downs of law school, finding my way around a city that feels like my own, and falling head over heels in love with someone who I found in my life the first week I moved.
And now Boston will be different. When I return to Beacon Hill on Friday it’s going to be with a heavy heartbreak. A few weeks in the making and something, that for once, I never thought would happen. It’s a rude wake-up call when you think things have fallen into place and that you’ve found everything you were looking for in a package you never expected… and then that package tells you that he doesn’t feel the same and drives you home at 1am in silence. I ran from his car to my apartment, clutching a bag of the things that had found their way into his home over the past seven months.
Running from a car I used to run to with anticipation. Running to an apartment I never really made my own. Running into a lonely that stings at every other moment.
His friends, his places, his smell. They are intertwined with that city and I’m not sure I’m ready to face them.
March 16, 2010
My favorite cities have all involved landmark moments. We’ve covered New Orleans. We’ve slightly covered San Fran.
And then there’s Chicago.
I’m currently sitting on the 22nd floor of a hotel on State St with open fresh blisters from a walk down Michigan and a potential nap in my future. The last time I managed to make it to Chicago I came with my father and the intention to get a job at a company his tradeshow was co-located with. It worked. I was there for five years. I fell in love with Chicago then, and I’m in love with Chicago now.
I strongly considered coming to school here, and I have to say that if I had I think I would be as happy here as I am in Boston. I ran ten miles along the water today, from Navy Pier to Lincoln Park and back again. It felt like it could be home. And it was the first time I’ve smiled from ear to ear in a few days.
There’s also a champagne bar that opens at 3pm a block away. Yes.
If anyone has suggestions for something fun to do in the Windy City tonight please let me know… back to New England in the morning.
March 14, 2010
Failed Relationships: 17(?)
Next up, rebounding. At least I’m leaving this one skinnier than I went into it.
March 5, 2010
Two days and nights to kill in Chicago in two weeks… any suggestions?
March 1, 2010
Future 1Ls have started visiting the classrooms and it’s throwing us off. We’ve finally learned one another’s faces and bam! there’s a fresh one sitting in the back. It’s easy to tell because they’re dressed impeccably well and they look fascinated. Some of them take notes. I shit you not.
It’s an interesting contradiction to the rest of us, 81 somewhat unwashed beings on gchat and facebook. Surrounded by the camps we set up for an hour or two– Dunkin’ Donuts cups, water bottles, cell phones on the lowest setting of vibrate available, power cords, highlighters, a surprising number of Pop-Tarts, on rare occasion a book. Name tags are long gone and the professors know they’re calling on the same pool of three unless they stick with the Socratic method.
Come to think of it, those three still dress for class.
The rest of us have resorted to hoodies. Maybe leggings and a hoodie. Sneakers. Definitely sneakers.
So yeah, it’s difficult to process the college senior wearing a skirt suit. Wearing eye make-up she applied TODAY. Looking perky. Looking excited. Looking hopeful.
I mean, really. Take a careful look around, kid, because this is going to be it. This could be you– hunched over a MacBook wondering why you thought this might be a good idea.