"Reminder: I still have no idea what I'm doing with my life.
We're in the same boat, you're just a little further downriver and have had more fun."
Yep. That. It's the "I have no idea what I'm doing" part that freaks me out. The "omg the next 30 years in an office filing motions is my future?" realization of things. The "But, what if that's not what I want?" thoughts. And it's not what I want. Which I discussed with Lindsey at lunch yesterday. "Um, this may not be the career path I wanted..." she said, realizing it may be a little later to change directions on that. I'm in the same boat, sister. And yes, there, despite trials, tribulations, and sheer stupidity, been a lot of fun. I mean, I got five mardi gras under my belt, y'all. (Chuck shout out.)
But about this future thing: The reasons I even went to law school are all a bit amorphous right now. I wanted to be SMART. I wanted people to know I was smart. I think. I wanted some immediate authority with people, a chance to get a modicum of respect without trying. I hated my old job? I didn't want to turn into my mother (which more and more doesn't seem like all that bad of an option.) Eh. Whatever.
Because funny enough, I feel REALLY in control right now. I dunno. The weather is fantastic and fall like. My football team is being talked about endlessly four days after the most bat shit crazy ending to a game I've ever witnessed. I've stopped worrying about other stuff. Not to get too ahead of myself (as that usually sets me up for a giant setback) but, ya know, things could be worse. Child soldier in Uganda and all.
I've been working out like a crazy person and it feels good. I'm seriously considering the Louisiana bar. As my trainer pointed out, "How do you know you don't just love vacation down there?" I don't. But as Linds counter pointed, "You won't know for sure unless you try it. And if you hate it, you always just move back." Yeah. That. And after years of trying to get everyone in my circle to love LSU the way I do, I finally converted the one person I should have always banked on being able to: the stepsis. Who in the middle of game day in Baton Rouge turns to me and says, "Can I go to grad school here?" Absofreakinglutely! Something about being there makes me a lot happier than being here. So I'll ponder this further, take some steps to figure out what it would take to get back there. (No, seriously, the stepsis and I are discussing this for like REAL. But tabling 'til I get bar results and she saves some cash.)
I also started writing fiction again. I haven't done that since undergrad, when I was graded on it. It was surprisingly easy to get started and I actually LIKE it. I will post for your evisceration when I have a finished product.
So: despite intense terror and uncertainty about the future, the present is pretty awesome and I'm enjoying it. Thanks all of you are who are contributing to that. And the sun. Which I am not off to enjoy...
Update: this is what I get for bragging about perfect days. For grinning as I walk along the Upper Great Highway, as a Navy ship sits just outside the bay waiting to enter for fleet week. I get tripped by the dog. My thirty pound little beast apparently doesn't like bicycles on the Great Highway. When we walked the lake, he was fine. But the Great Highway? He chomped at every single one of them. We're on our way back, around Rivera, and I have him on a super short leash, trying to introduce the concept of "heal" so he won't go after the bikes. I have my ipod on, but not too loud so I can still hear what's going on, when he lunges and however I was standing, between the dirt and the cement path leads me to just eat it. Glasses flying, ass on the ground. Bicyclist says, "ARE YOU OKAY!?" Yes, I'm fine. I'm embarrassed at my lack of balance, PISSED at the dog, but I'm fine. Except I'm not. I have dirt and gravel and a nice gash in my hand. And now I'm sort of just generally sore. And I'm still pissed at the dog. WTF, dog? It's a BICYCLE!
But still. The sun was shining, the day was nice, and it's fleet week! Can't wait to hear the Blue Angels thundering over head. And, ya know, boys in uniforms.
Update: this is what I get for bragging about perfect days. For grinning as I walk along the Upper Great Highway, as a Navy ship sits just outside the bay waiting to enter for fleet week. I get tripped by the dog. My thirty pound little beast apparently doesn't like bicycles on the Great Highway. When we walked the lake, he was fine. But the Great Highway? He chomped at every single one of them. We're on our way back, around Rivera, and I have him on a super short leash, trying to introduce the concept of "heal" so he won't go after the bikes. I have my ipod on, but not too loud so I can still hear what's going on, when he lunges and however I was standing, between the dirt and the cement path leads me to just eat it. Glasses flying, ass on the ground. Bicyclist says, "ARE YOU OKAY!?" Yes, I'm fine. I'm embarrassed at my lack of balance, PISSED at the dog, but I'm fine. Except I'm not. I have dirt and gravel and a nice gash in my hand. And now I'm sort of just generally sore. And I'm still pissed at the dog. WTF, dog? It's a BICYCLE!
But still. The sun was shining, the day was nice, and it's fleet week! Can't wait to hear the Blue Angels thundering over head. And, ya know, boys in uniforms.
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