Easing back in

So...a lot has happened since I was regularly posting.

One of the biggest things is that I have a job I enjoy.  It's not without its challenges and stresses, but mostly I feel good about what I do.  I still don't want to talk too much about my work in this forum, but it's mostly good.  And having a job I enjoy makes me feel like an actual adult, which is kind of nice.

One thing that has not changed is that my relationship with my father has continued to be weird.  I don't know how else to really describe it.  Did you know after my mother's death, he didn't call me?  He did call my brother but only to ask for her death certificate so he could begin collecting his full retirement (part of which she was collecting as part of the divorce).  He did send all three of his children e-cards.  As I remember, it was an animated thing with a lone wolf looking wistfully at the moon.  So, you know, he felt my pain?  Anyway, it has not gotten a lot better.

I got an email from him shortly before my birthday in December.  The email was addressed to my sister, brother, and me.  It announced that my father had gotten married to his woman-friend.  And he had done so December 31 of the year prior.  I was bothered by that.  Not so much that he got married, because they had been together either a little (or not so little) before or pretty much since he filed for divorce from my mother (depending on whose story you believe).  It was inevitable.  It also didn't bother me that I had not been invited.  After all, I did not invite him to my wedding--a slight, I later learned, that still miffs him.  But I get it.  It's his wedding, he can do it however he wants.*  No, what bothered me was that he waited, or felt like he had to wait, to tell me.  And that he did it in an email.

But fine.  I took some time and responded.  I wanted to respond in a way that would make things better.  So, I wrote an email that congratulated him first and a few times.  Then said, hey, you know, this is a sign that our relationship is not well.  And yeah, that's my fault, but it's your fault too.  I said I feel like you've tried to act like there is not a problem, but because you waited, that seems like an admission that there is a problem.  I think I said it was a positive step, because now we can figure out how to move forward.

I was happy with my email.  I thought, maybe it was even a mature response.  Adult-like.  And maybe it was.  But it was not perceived as such.  It was perceived as an attack.  So, my father responded very angrily.  He acknowledged there was a problem (which is progress), but said the problem was (pretty much) all my making.  Well, not really all mine, because he addressed his response to all three of his children, each of whom had expressed in separate emails our separate and individual problems.  But all the same, a good many of the grievances he aired were aimed at me.  Take for instance that 9 years ago I had decided not to invite him to my wedding.  I had not consulted with my brother or sister.  It would be weird to assume I had.  There were other things listed off, but most of them were aimed at me and my actions.  And, let me assure you, I did not handle his actions in the wake of his filing divorce with the kind of grace and aplomb you might normally wish for.  And I could try to justify that lack of decorum.  But I don't really.  I should have been better.  I often look back on my actions and think I should have done better.  I thought that was at least partially expressed in my response to his secret wedding.  But.  But there is a catch.  Here was my father telling me everything was all my fault.  Here he was inviting me to re-litigate our whole issue, when in all truth I felt he had been dishonest before and was continuing to be dishonest.  Here he was saying you either agree with me about the way I exited my marriage to your mother, or....well....he didn't state an "or" expressly.  But, I still felt it there shrieking at me from between his lines.

And I did not initially know what I wanted to do about it.  The thing is, I want to have a relationship with my father.  I had been willing to swallow a lot of what I thought was right.  I had been willing to try to bury my anger about how things had happened and say, okay, we move forward from here.  I suppose it wasn't a relationship as much as a detente.  A momentary lapse in the fight.  It was still there.  These were problems that needed to be solved if we're going to have an actual, real, meaningful relationship.

So, I set about writing another email.  I still wanted to respond in a way to make things better.  But, I didn't want to accept his "or".  And I wanted it understood that I was not going to agree with his version of things.  So.  I told him pretty much that.  I told him, I had been trying to get things to move forward and I was surprised by his anger.  I told him he should deal with his children as individuals and that if he blamed my siblings for my action, that he was mistaken.  And I told him I am not going to agree with his version of things, but that it's up to him to decide if he wants to find a way forward.  I tried to keep it positive.  I tried to keep it peaceful.  But I feel I failed on both accounts.  I think on reading it again my message shows my angst over this whole situation.  I think the end either can be read as a demand for him to help me find a different way to address things, or as a desperate plea.

Because that's the shitty thing about it.  He's my dad.  As much as I want to be angry with him, I know I owe him so much.  And there's a very big part of me that will always blame myself for pushing him.  I was in an emotional place, but so as he.  He was going through a divorce.  He was finding someone he loved and who he wanted us to love too.  I should have dealt with it better.  I should have been more patient.  I should have listened.  And that's all 100% true.

Here's the thing that keeps me from completely letting him have his way.  I'm willing to be introspective and adjust my behaviors and change my stance if and when I see my mistakes.  My father is saying the same thing and making the same demands since this all began.  He's made no apologies for his actions.  He's made no change in his stance or admitted to many (any?) mistakes.  It's not that I feel I should be stubborn to match his stubbornness.  It's that there is no negotiating with someone who will only take from you and not give you anything.  He'll just keep trying to chip away at me--at what I believe--until I believe exactly what he believes.  And in a relationship that should be based on love, that's really bad.  A betrayal, really.

So.  I will wait for his response.  I will wait for his response and know there's a high probability that I will be disappointed.  I am going to try to give him as many chances as I can--there's a reason I think of him as the prodigal father.  And I will try not to be angry or pushy.  But man it's a challenge.

*Turns out, how he wants is at an Original Pancakes house, which, alright, cool, I guess.

I don't know...

Maybe I will post on here again.  I mean, it's still here.  And I still like to pass the time by writing about myself.  And it's not like you have to be reading this shit.

Sometimes Music is no substitute for tears...

Tomorrow is the one year anniversary of my Mother's death.  And it has been a rough fucking year.  The kind of year that makes me miss her unconditional love.  Even if she wasn't always able to talk to me the way I would have hoped, I knew she loved me, fiercely and without any qualms over anything I have ever done or said.  And there was nothing that could change that.  That's such an amazing thing that I not only took for granted, but that I didn't understand.  The world is a much scarier place without that kind of support.  And I have not figured out how to be brave.
*********
I can't thank Neil Young enough for his album "A Letter Home."  I first heard his version of My Hometown while I was driving down to see Mom for the last time.  I cried when I heard it, because his voice so perfectly captured the remorse and sadness I was feeling.  And the whole album takes me back to that feeling.  It has helped me get in touch with the feelings I would rather bury.  And it has kept me human in this year.
And if you have listened to the album, you know he's using it to talk to his mother.  The way he talks and the things he says makes me feel so warm and so happy.  It makes me wish I had a magic box too.
Music is amazing, because if you let it, and if you're lucky, a song, or a whole album of songs, can be there to help keep you going.
***********
This year has been one of such disappointment and sadness.  But, the nice thing is that I feel like things are now heading in a good direction.  I just started a job that I like.  And I work with people who seem pretty great.  And I have been so lucky to have friends and family who love me and who support me.  And that keeps me young, even as it feels like the world is pulling me away from youth and fun and life.
Things are going to be okay.  Hell, they might even be great.

drek

It's been six months (just over) since my Mom died.  It seems like I should be less surprised about that.  Or less surprised that it hurts still.

In which I stumble on a thought, maybe a point, and maybe even an idea that might be helpful to no one but me.

When someone you love dies, it changes you.  Or at least it changes how you see yourself.  Which is my way of saying my Mother's death either changed me, or it changed the way I see myself.  I am not sure which, but one or both is definitely true.  

I know I'm technically still my Mother's son.  It just feels like that doesn't mean the same thing now.  Not that I had completely figured out what being her son meant when she was alive.  It's complicated, and probably more than a little boring for someone to read about.  Not that boring you is going to stop me, but it's not exactly what I'm trying to think about here.  What I'm trying to think about is how does her death change me.  Is it just in how people view me, or is it also about how I view myself.  And is this a permanent change or something that I'm going through and will come out the other side of, at some point.  

Certainly, I'm feeling and thinking about things differently since her death.  And I'm not my sunshiney-best right now, that is for sure.  But I feel like that is the superficial stuff.  That stuff will change as I get used to the idea of her not being around.  Of her being dead.  

Oh, I'm beating around the bush, I think.  There's a thought here that I'm not quite expressing, mostly because I don't know how.  So, I'm just gonna type and we'll see if I get there.  My mother died almost four months ago.  I've muddled through, all the while hoping that I would either be a different person or be the same person, and never knowing which, if either, is happening.  On the one hand, I watched my mother die.  It should be really traumatic, and it was.  But, I don't have any idea what that means about me.  I don't know if that's a natural thing I saw happen.  I don't know if I am scarred by it, or if I find it comforting that I got to be there for here at the last.  I feel both, which is okay.  So, yeah.  I'm conflicted.  Okay.  That's progress.  Progress is good.  

I wish I weren't conflicted, which only adds to the conflict, but that's me.  That's always been me.  So, that's good.  I'm still me.  

But at the same time, seeing that was traumatic.  There is scarring.  And that's the kind of scarring that changes a person.  Have I changed?  Probably.  But it's hard to tell for sure.  It's only been four months.  So, yeah, who knows, I guess.  Not a terribly comforting way to leave things.  But the comforting thing is it's still so new* that I can hopefully help shape the way this changes me.  I don't want to be someone who faces disappointment and loss by simply enduring the hardship.  I want to continue to learn from loss.  I want to find bright spots.  I want to find a way to live positively.  

How to do that, is the hard thing.  My Mother's last few years were not, by my estimation, happy years.  Her husband of over 30 years divorced her, leaving her for another woman.  She never quite recovered from that loss.  She was still angry about it the last time I saw her, which was over six years after it happened.  She had every right to be angry.  I was not, and am not, happy about it either.  But, she let that loss determine too much about who she was, and how she thought people saw her.  Other losses, prior to the loss of her husband, also seemed to have this effect.  My Mom loved to smile and laugh, but it grew harder and harder to see that smile in her last years.  She seemed just to endure life.  There was little joy in her life, it seemed to me.  Some of this, no doubt, was depression or some related mental illness.  And that complicates how I look at things, because it means that in a lot of ways, her actions were not the ones she would have chosen if she had not been suffering from those illnesses.  But, if I am able to choose how to approach life (and I think I am at this point at least)**, I do not want to simply endure.  I want to make sure I find joy no matter what loss comes to me.  

My Father's last few years, on the other hand, have been outwardly happy.  He is living with his woman-friend.  They are not technically married, from what I understand, for financial reasons.  But other than having the legal paper, they are married.  He lives near his family, and gets to visit them.  He seems to frequently visit his woman-friend's family.  He calls their children his grandkids, and seems very happy.  But I like his path less than my Mother's.  My relationship with him is reduced to pretending everything is okay and not discussing anything that might be uncomfortable.  My Father does not endure, he only enjoys.  And if he does not enjoy something, he ignores it.  I don't want to do that.  I want to be able to face my challenges.

So, as I have done so many times before, I look at my parents as cautionary warnings.  I think I am much more susceptible to going my Mother's way, mistaking silence for strength, and not getting help when it probably would be better, healthier.  Being aware of that is probably helpful.  Hopefully it means I am on my way to doing things differently.  Doing things my own way.  I think that's part of the reason I share my thoughts on this blog.  I don't know that anyone reading this gains much by it, but I gain a lot by having a place I write down my thoughts and share them.  It's therapeutic.  And I think it keeps me thinking about who I want to be, and how I can get there.  

*Note 1. Four months isn't that long a time to be dealing with this, I think, especially since some of my dealing with it has been trying to not deal with it.

**Note 2.  I do not mean to make light of my Mother's possible mental issues, or to brush them aside.  They were a big part of why she acted the way she did in her last years.  I don't mean to imply she could have acted differently if only she had made the choice.  I only mean that I think I can act differently because I do not suffer from depression right now.  

Gumshoe continues

It's like I didn't forget about this.  Sorry for the delay.  It's been busy.
http://desmoinesgumshoe.blogspot.com/

More about me

Last night I had a dream about my Mom.  I've had some of them over the last couple months since she died.  Most of them I don't remember.  The ones I have remembered have been pleasant.  Mom is happy or smiling.  It usually leaves me with a melancholy happiness.  I'm sad when I wake up, but in a way that feels natural and good.  I miss her, it makes sense.

But last night's dream was different.  It was the first time she talked to me in her dream.  She only said my name, before I jolted awake.  I'm sure there was something in my head, some memory floating in there somewhere that tried to make her voice sound the same, but it didn't work.  I knew it wasn't her, but at the same time, the fact that she spoke to me in my dream was very disturbing to me.  I'm having trouble putting a finger on why.  I'm not someone who believes the dead communicate with us through our dreams, so it's not that I think my Mom was trying to communicate with me.  If I had to guess I would say it's a subconscious way of trying to get the contact I'm missing.  And maybe I wasn't ready for it.

*******

I have this recurring feeling that everything should stop.  That work should stop, that the lawn shouldn't keep growing and need me to mow it.  That it should all be put on hold so I can think about what the loss of my Mother means to me and how I want to deal with it.  But, of course, none of that stops.  And I need to take the time to think about that stuff on my own.  Except that I really have not wanted to.  I've enjoyed being a little overwhelmed with work stuff, and the lawn.  And when I have the free time, I've buried myself in books, video games, movies, or anything else that would let me feel like I do not have time to think about my Mother's life and death.  It has only been semi-conscious, but it strikes me that this is probably not all that healthy.

Of course, sharing all those thoughts here is probably not the best idea either.  But at least I'm going to start doing some of the work.

And of course, none of that stuff is going to stop.  And that's good.  In a lot of ways it feels like I stopped.  Stopped being a part of things in the same way.  Like I was jarred out of living the way I had been comfortable living, and now I'm rejoining things.  Slowly.  Or, I was trying to do it too fast, and now I'm going to do it more slowly to give me time to be more conscious about what I'm feeling.  I need to be more reflective when I'm feeling overwhelmed.  I need to be more thoughtful when I'm hurting.

Mom's last years were not happy ones.  It makes me sad to think about that.  It makes me feel guilty.  But it is the truth, I think.  There's nothing I can do to change it now, just like I think there wasn't much I could do to change it as it was happening.  I loved my mother, but she made some decisions that I think she regretted.  She made some decisions I didn't agree with.  And I don't view her life as any sort of cautionary tale, but I know she wouldn't want that for me.  She wanted me to be happy.  So, I have to do things differently.  I have to commit myself to living a happier life.  The misery is fine if it's not a permanent thing.  And it hasn't been, really.  It just washes over me sometimes when I don't expect it.

Maybe none of this makes sense.  It's hard to make sense of my feelings right now.

My Mom.

My mother died just over three months ago. 

I’ve started this entry a number of times—each time with the length of my mom’s death from now changing.  And each time, I’ve stopped right about there.  In a lot of ways, that sentence says it all.  People, even people with living mothers, understand a lot about what happens to someone after they read that sentence.  That sentence is somewhat universal.

But it doesn’t capture everything.  Everyone’s relationship with their mother is different, and how someone deals with that loss is different.  I haven’t really dealt with it all that well. 

***********

Last November, my mom had successful open-heart surgery.  It was successful in the fact that she did not die, and that it was supposed to help her with clotting issues, and general tiredness she’d been dealing with in the last few months before the surgery.  The day of her surgery was hellish.  It was my brother’s birthday, which had to have been completely unpleasant for him.  My wife and I drove with my sister to the hospital early that morning.  We met up with my brother in my mom’s hospital room, where she’d had to spend the night to be monitored.  Then things happened fast, and all I remember is flashes.  We were making awkward small talk, and she was taken down to an area to get ready.  We were able to go with her.  We were asked who should be the contact person, and we said my brother.  Mom requested a priest, or pastor, or whatever the spiritual hospital person is called.  That person came and a prayer was said.  And then she was gone. 

They showed us to the waiting area, where we took up residence at a table and pretty much played games all day, while keeping an eye on a screen that was to update us about Mom’s progress.  For most of the day, it simply said, “in surgery.”  The day went pretty smoothly.  I don’t remember much about the day, except that I did everything I could to stay busy or distracted.  I didn’t want to let myself have too much time to think about what might be happening in a room not that far from where I was.

Eventually, the surgeon came out, and said that everything had gone well.  Mom was alive.  The surgery was a success.  And we were all thrilled.  So happy that now Mom would have a better quality of life. 

*************

After the surgery, everyone was happy, and Mom seemed to think the surgery had gone well.  She went to a facility where everything seemed to go well.  Not perfectly, but they decided that she could go home, and that everything was good.  But then it seems as though it didn’t.  There’s disagreement about why things went south.  I go back and forth about the reasons why Mom didn’t recover as well as hoped.  Some days I assign the blame to doctors, care workers, Mom herself, or Me.  Other days, I think this is just something that happens.  Sort of like an accident or fate.  Maybe nothing could be done. 

Either way, the fact is she did not recover.  She had trouble walking.  She would fall and have trouble getting up.  She seemed weaker.  She would see things or be really confused.  Once she swore the light in her room would move down toward her bed.  Another time she swore the paint in her room was a different color yesterday.  She also swore to having conversations that did not happen.  But she also refused to leave her home and go somewhere that would be able to help her.  My brother did the best he could, but she needed much more help than anyone who was not trained was going to be able to give her.

She eventually did end up in a facility.  The plan was for that facility to help her get to a place where she could live alone again, if possible.  Unfortunately, while she was there, she caught an infection.  By the time it was noticed, it was too far along.  It shut down her organs and there was nothing that could be done.

********

Sunday, April 20, 2014.  I got a text message from my brother saying I should come down and see Mom.  I knew things weren’t going well, but I didn’t fully realize how badly they really were going.  I told him I would be down on Monday, but that I didn’t know when I could leave. 

I went into work Monday morning, told my boss the situation, and left.  My wife and I left a short time after that.  The drive down took forever.  I remember hearing songs from Neil Young’s new album being played on the radio.  If you haven’t heard the songs, Neil Young recorded the whole album in a vinyl recording booth that makes actual vinyl records of the music being made inside.  The sound is scratchy, beautiful, and has an instantly retro feel to it.  One of the songs was Springsteen’s, “My Hometown,” which was intense, and gorgeously done.  Neil Young’s voice was so sharp and so honest, it made me cry.

We drove to the hospital.  When I entered the room, I felt like I had been running.  I saw my sister and brother sitting in the corner, both trying their best to hold it together.  My mother was in her bed.  Her eyes were fluttering, and unfocused.  Her arms were strapped down and moved on their own.  Her breathing was assisted by a respirator.  She was cool to the touch.  My mother was not really there.  The smiling, generous woman who loved to be goofy and always wanted to help me was gone.  But she was still alive. 

It was quickly decided that Mom wouldn’t want to live like this.  It was the obvious decision, given talks Mom had had with each of us.  Looking back on this, the fact that it was so quick and so obvious makes it harder to deal with later.  Decisions like this are supposed to be hard, and should take time to come to.  In the trial’s I’ve observed since, attorneys describe the “beyond a reasonable doubt” standard by saying it’s the kind of doubt you would have if you were making a decision about pulling the plug on a loved one.  And, I agree with that idea, and I think this was the right decision.  But still I wonder if the fact that it came so quickly for me means something about who I am. 

**************

My sister and brother and I each took a few moments alone with Mom.  To say what we needed to say to her.  To make peace with the decision.  To—I don’t know.  I spoke to her.  Or at her, I don’t know.  But I said things I needed to say, and I hope she heard them.  Hope she knew them long before this moment.  That will probably be a mystery for me.  I can hunt down clues and make good deductions and inferences, but I may never know.  Or maybe that’s just where I’m at with this now.  Maybe in time it will all be clearer. 

After we all had our time with Mom, they started weaning her off the machines that helped her stay alive.  The monitors were all shut off.  A magnet was put over her heart to disable the pacemaker that had helped her heart stay in rhythm.  We were left alone, and we just watched.  We watched as Mom died.  Her breathing slowed.  Her mouth opened and silently tried to gulp in more air, but with less and less success.  Her cool hands didn’t move.  Her eyes never focused.  And she died. 

It was about 6:00 p.m., on April 21, 2014.  It was a Monday.  The sun was shining.  The grass was so green from all the rain Iowa had been having.  It was a beautiful spring day. 

**************

The last time I think I talked to my Mom was on her birthday, which is also my wedding anniversary.  My wife and I had traveled to Galena, Illinois, which is where we went right after we had been married six years before.  It was a month before my mother died, and my mother and I chatted while I stood on the steep staircase that took me from the town to where we had parked.  I don’t really remember what we talked about.  I don’t think the she had caught the infection that took her life. 

I know I told her I loved her.  I also know I was really sad after her call.  Most of her calls had made me really sad.  That’s just where she was then.  She had a rough time dealing with her divorce from my Father.  She never really bounced back from that in a lot of ways.  I feel guilty about this now, but it was hard to look forward to calling her.  I skipped some weeks, because I did not know what to say to her.  Because I wanted to help her feel better, but I knew I wouldn’t or couldn’t.  She was depressed, probably in the clinical sense, but certainly in the less technical meaning.  It bothers me that I was not able to help her.  It bothers me I couldn’t get her to help herself.  But it really bothers me that when I think of my Mother, this is the person who comes forward first.  This person is my Mother.  But she’s just part of her.  She’s not the whole person.  She’s not the person who raised me.  She’s not the person who is proud of me, and wanted me to be happy and proud of myself.  She’s not the person who taught me to work hard, and led by example.  And the fact that I have to remind myself of that makes me sad.

But every once in a while, I remember something that makes me smile.  I suppose that’s the sadness falling away.  The stress easing.  The shock wearing off.  I know this is going to be something that will take a while to process, but sometimes those little moments lift my spirits so much. 

But mostly, I still miss my Mom so much. 

***********

I’m not sure why I wrote this.  Or why I’m sharing it with anyone who might stumble across this website.  I was hoping it would make me feel better, and it has—at least for the moment.  I was hoping something might be gained in my grieving process as a whole, and maybe it has.  I don’t know.  It seems like there’s a whole lot of things I don’t know right now.

And that’s okay.  Things are getting better, I think.  The other problems that have come up in my life are pressing, but I mostly feel optimistic about them now.  I mean, it comes and it goes.  

Gumshoe...

Chapter 3 is up....
http://desmoinesgumshoe.blogspot.com/

Gumshoe

Part 2 just posted.  Sorry about the delay.  

Gumshoe

http://desmoinesgumshoe.blogspot.com/

Just posted the first part.  Enjoy.  Let me know what you think.

Reviving....

The bar is over, and after a weekend of lazing and celebrating, mixed with feeling a little run down, I'm feeling like a normal human being again.  For the first time in a long time, I don't have any studying to do.  I don't have any papers due or anything that needs to be done.  Except for stuff I want to do, and look for a job.
So far the job stuff is looking a little shaky.  I've had some leads and I'm thinking something might pan out.  I'm hopeful.  We'll see.  I know that sounds cryptic, but at this point, that's about all I've got.  No sure things, but a good feeling.  Don't know that it means anything, but it's something.
But in the mean time, I'm getting a chance to catch up on some house work that has been languishing while I studied.  I'm not a particularly handy person, but I like the feeling of learning and working to make my house better.
The second way I'm planning on using my time is to return to writing my Gumshoe stories. I've been working on the second story for the a while now and I'm getting close to ready to start publishing it.  Same as last time, I'm be putting it out on a blog and hoping some people read it and maybe like it.  Different from last time, I've written the first few of them so that I hope to not have any delays from delivering on a once per week basis.  Here's hoping.

Keeping the Faith...

Still studying for the is what is taking up most of my thoughts these days.  Bar.  Bar.  Bar.  Bar.  It sucks.  I'm tired of studying for it.  Kind of bored going over the same material time and time again to make sure I've got it.

But I'm also thinking about life afterwards.  It's the subtext to all the bar worry.  I mean, it's hard to be worried about a test that 90% of people pass...except that there's so much at stake.  If I don't pass this time, I have to wait until February to get to take it again.  Meaning for those 6 months, I stay in this limbo of not really being able to work, and I get to take it again.  So.  Yeah.
But I still don't know what my life after the bar is really going to look like.  I've been sending out applications to many places I think would be good places to work.  Either because of the area of law, or because of the things I've heard about those places, and I think I would fit in well there.  Being an older law student, I feel the need to find a job that I will enjoy for the long term.  I don't have to find the perfect job, or my last job.  But I want to go somewhere that I can be for at least 5 years.  Or I want to go somewhere that is designed to be short term, so everyone knows that I'll be there for only a set amount of time, and I will get experience that I can use to find the job where I can be long term.
And so far, this has not gone well.  I got another rejection yesterday.  It was from a place that I had only applied to the weekend before.  This means they probably looked at it first thing Monday and decided quickly I was not what they were looking for and decided to send out their form letter almost immediately.  The career development people here tell us that the average person looks at a resume for 2 minutes, tops.  And that seems to be the case here.  And it seems unfair, because I'm sure everyone is putting hundreds of times more than 2 minutes into researching places, typing up the cover letter, tailoring the resumes, and all of that.  And I know the reason we have to spend that time is because it has to be clear and concise, so that someone who's going to give it 2 minutes will see something they want to look into further.  I know this logically.  But man, every rejection still feels personal to me.  It's not for them, I know.  But I still haven't gotten good at not taking it personally.  I probably never will, honestly.
I always feel like I spend so much time telling them how great I am, and their decision is them saying I'm not that good.  It's stupid of me.  And I know it's stupid, which makes me feel worse, because it doesn't change the way I feel.
I know I'm going to get a job.  It will happen.  I did too well in law school, and I'm working too hard now for it not to happen.*  Not to sound too conceited.  But, you know, it's true.  And honestly, if I've learned anything through this process, it's that there are few other people, if any, who are going to look at the positives and point them out.  So I have to do it myself.
I just need to patient with myself, and with the people who are making decisions.  I'm making mistakes and so are they.  It's gonna be okay.  I just wish I knew when and where.  It would make the planning so much easier.

Of the future--opportunity and anxiety

It has been a long time since I've posted, and for that I am sorry.

The lack of updates has not been caused by lack of subject matter.  Since my last post, I applied for admission to the Minnesota Bar, took my last law school exams, graduated (in a weekend that involved my mother and father being in the same room and interacting for the first time since their divorce), and began studying for the bar.  Oh, and I bought a house with my spouse.  So, yeah.  Lots of things have been on my mind, but they all basically lead to the same place--my future.  My undetermined and wide-open future.

******

Buying our house was not terribly difficult.  We only looked at 7 or 8 houses before we found the one we wanted.  It was in the right neighborhood.  It was the right size.  The only problems were that it was a house that had been foreclosed on, which meant we would be negotiating and dealing with a bank (which sucked*) and that the house wasn't in good shape and needed work.

It's been almost 3 months since we bought the house and 2 months since we moved in.  And it's coming along.  We've got the once-patchy lawn to look a little more green.  We've painted most of the rooms in the house.  We've taken care of most of the big problems (plumbing and electrical).  There's still some big items on our list, and they're getting prioritized and dealt with as much as we can.  It's a process and I think we're moving toward where we want things to be.

So, it would seem that this part of my future is solved.  I know where I'm going to live for a long time, which is comforting.  I also know what I'll be doing with a lot of my free time from here on out.  I'll continue painting, weeding, planting, mowing, fixing, and otherwise trying to improve and maintain my house.  This is less comforting.  Of course a lot of this this improving and maintaining is beyond my skill set, so we're going to have to have other people do the work.  Which means everything here would be quicker and easier if I had a job.

In the two months of actually owning the house, it's started to feel more like a home.  The physical moving-in process is complete, but my mental moving-in process is not complete.  And I'm not sure that I will feel fully moved in until I have a job.  Weird as it sounds, having somewhere I have to be that is not the house, I think, will make the house space feel more like a home.  As it is now, I do a fair amount of studying at home.  I relax at home.  I spend most of my time there.  Which should be great.  But it's kind of not, because I know it's temporary.  I know at some point (though I don't know at what point) I will have to go to work.  I will have to do things elsewhere.  And I secretly like having routines and structure--if for no other reason than breaking those routines and structures.

*******

Graduating law school was awesome.  It's been three years of really hard work, all focused on getting through and pushing forward with my life.  The ceremony was enjoyable and I really enjoyed the talk given by the new associate of the Minnesota Supreme Court, Wilhelmina Wright.

What was odd though, was getting dressed up in the regalia.  In a lot of ways I felt like my trip through law school was an individual one.  I did all my work.  I chose my classes and took the tests.  I read the assignments, wrote the memos, met with the clients, and decided what I needed to work on, and how I was going to get better.  I obviously leaned a lot on my friends, and especially on my wife.  But, at the end of it all, I was making a decision about where I was going and how I was getting there.  Dressing up in the same black robe as everyone else, complete with the same medals and chords, I felt very much like I was just one person out of many.  Sure my grades and all that is different, but if I wasn't there, there would be another robe in my seat.

And today, when I picked up my diploma, I had the same feeling as they sorted through the pile of papers that were all the diplomas they were handing out.  I was at the top of a pile only because of where my name falls in the alphabet.

As you might expect this is a disappointing feeling.  I feel like I accomplished so much by going to law school, and by doing well.  I wanted these moments to feel relief, a sense of accomplishment, some contentment.  Something.  But mostly, I felt like there's so much to do.  So much I want to do.

There's the bar.  There's getting a job.  There's the rest of my life.  And ultimately what I do from here on out is what is going to have to differentiate me from everyone else.  Maybe later on I'll have a better perspective that will help me figure out what I'm going through right now.  But right now, I can't really describe it very precisely.  It's an uncomfortable mix.

*******

The day after graduation, I went to my first bar-prep class.  Which is good, because it's providing structure to my studying.  And that is what I need.  But it was also a very odd thing.  I went from working very hard to understand arguments and nuances, to memorizing rules that I will need to regurgitate on the days of the exam.  Which sucks.  It's designed to suck, honestly.  Which is fine.  I'm am putting in my study time and will pass the exam.  I'm not afraid of the bar right now.**

But, it's raised a real issue for me.  I really do not want to end up in a job where that's all I do.  I know some areas of practice where practicing is about churning out essentially the same thing over and over again.  One of the biggest reasons I went to law school was because I wanted a challenging career.  I want a job where I have to think, and where I'm being challenged most days.  I am fine right now, for another month and change memorizing rules and preparing to show the bar examiners that I have the most basic qualifications required to be an attorney.  But after that I don't want to feel like all I'm using is those basic qualifications.  I want a job that will allow me to grow.  I want to continue to get better at being a lawyer.  I want to explore and hone my skills.  I want excellence and am willing to continue work hard to get there.

And I hope I can land somewhere that wants to get that kind of effort and skill from me.  And will help me get there.  That's why I went to law school.

********

The thing about looking for a job in the law right now is that the market is not great.  I've been hearing for a couple years that it's getting better.  Note that "getting better" does not mean that it's good, or even better, yet.  It's just not as crappy as it has been, which means that every job I apply for is also being applied for by hundreds of other students who graduated this year, as well as others who have been holding down a chair the last couple years waiting for better opportunities to come up.  This is the source of so much angst and worry.

For the most part, I think things will turn out all right though.  Mostly, I see that this is an opportunity to really land in a great place.  And while I vacillate between moments of confidence and sureness and moments of complete insecurity, those moments are not long-lasting.  They come on like a sudden rain storm, leaving me with fresh fear to push me forward.  So,  I guess that's good, right.

********
*Note 1.  Seriously, this bank was so hard to get in contact with, and very cavalier about certain terms in the contract.  Being a law student, I thought I would have a handle on how to deal with stuff like this.  And it did.  But being emotionally involved with the outcome of buying the house made it really hard.  This, I decided, is a very important reason for people to get attorneys to help them through things like this.
**Note 2.  I will be once we get closer, because there's so much at stake with passing the bar.  If someone doesn't pass this bar, they have to wait until February to take the next one (which will be a re-designed bar, so that extra sucks this time).  If someone doesn't pass, they cannot practice law.  So basically, there's a 6 or 7 month no work penalty for not passing the bar.  Too much at stake to take it lightly.

Competitive Friendships, or the Pettiness of Law Students

Me mid-finals period.  It ain't pretty, but I'm getting through this

Law students are a bitter, hard-bitten lot.  And none more so than 3Ls, with the great, wide world waiting to welcome them so soon, but the grip of the classroom still holding firm.  Even with the job market not being the best, we 3Ls are ready to leave what is now the mundane day-to-day of the law school semi-existence.  We have put in almost three years of hard studying and work at the expense of doing many things we enjoyed.  Even if we're not technically licensed to be lawyers, we're ready to get out there find jobs and start doing things--even if it's not exactly what we thought we would be doing when we came in.
I can't speak for everyone's reasons about being tired.  But for me, one of the biggest is that I'm tired of the forced competition.  I know at Mitchell, I have it pretty good.  There are not many cutthroats and we use the term "gunner" mostly to mean someone who talks in class a lot.  This is not the environment where someone steals your books, or takes all the necessary material out of the library, or any of the other horror stories that happen around other law schools.  But the way every law school is set up is that there is direct competition on an almost daily basis--which makes sense given the adversarial system we'll all be working in.  We're all competing for grades in classes, for class rank, for externships, for clerkships, and ultimately for jobs.  It's an odd situation, because I have gotten to know a lot of people here, and like a great many of them.  And yet, the competition always kind of there.
I have made it a policy not to discuss my grades with anyone.  I tell my wife, but other than that, I don't really talk about them.  It has been my attempt to minimize the interaction of the competition on my life and my relationships with people.  But, as you might expect, the fact that I have a policy does not mean that others feel the same way.  I think others don't see why grades are a big deal one way or the other.  It's ultimately all about getting a job, right?  Grades have some bearing on that, but they're not everything, so why is it a big deal to talk about them?  The answer to these questions are that we don't all feel that way about grades.  In fact, it's been my experience that some who claim grades aren't that big a deal are people who really want to know how you've done, for whatever reason.
I had an uncomfortable situation yesterday when two friends started discussing their grades, specifically in a class that we had all had together.  They mentioned that someone had won the CALI* in that class and how that person probably didn't deserve it.  Both my friends started talking about their grades in this class and then in others and their class rank.  All the things I don't like to talk about, so I just kept my mouth shut.
And another part of me worried about how my silence might be interpreted.  It would be easy to take my silence as embarrassment about my law school performance.  Or that I had done so well that I don't worry about grades.  Or that I was somehow above it all--which is certainly not true.  I worry about my grades a lot.  Too much.  And I would if they were higher or lower--it's just how I am.
I found the conversation uncomfortable not only because of the ugliness of the comments, but also because it was a reminder that I am competing with these people.  If I had won the award, these kind of comments could be aimed at me.  And given that I have become a talker in many classes, these kinds of things are probably being said about me.  It was a reminder that in law school, you're not really a member of a team.  I'm trying to do my best, and even when I'm studying with others, there's a tension because there are only so many A's and there's every incentive to learn what you can from the other person and not give up your great ideas.  I'm not sure if that's what was going on yesterday or not, but after that conversation, I can't say it's not a possibility.
I can't say that out in the real world this problem will go away--it won't.  We'll be competing for jobs, clients, awards, and verdicts.  It's a competitive business by its very nature.  But at least there you have a really good idea who's team you're on.  If they're on the other side of the -v-, then they are not on your side.  If they are on the same side of the -v-, there's a good chance they're at least working toward something you're working toward.  And if you're in a firm, yes there's competition there (promotion, office space, mentors, good assignments), but I have to believe (and have to end up somewhere where) everyone wants the firm to succeed.
If nothing else, once I'm out of law school, I will meet people who aren't law students and lawyers.  I will have time to spend with them and become friends with them.  And I will not have to compete with them.  But all this competitive pettiness has really missed my college friends.  I never questioned their motives.  I still don't.  We argued, but it was never a question of whether we respected each other or who had better grades, or other petty bullshit.  It was usually over whose turn it was to get the six pack.  And anytime any of you are up here, I'm saying right now I will get the next one.

*Note 1.  The Center for Computer Assisted Legal Instruction gives out an award to student who earns the highest grade in every course (unless the professor declines to participate).

Not dancing yet, but I will

Remember that Springsteen Concert, I went to?  Well, right after I came back to St. Paul, my big toe started hurting and my left foot swelled up.  I couldn't bend the toe and it hurt to put weight on it without wanting to collapse.  At first, I wrapped an Ace bandage around it and tried to tough it out, figuring it would figure itself out.  After a week, though, I couldn't take it anymore and went to a Clinic to have a person smarter than myself deal with it.  The doctor who looked at it said it could be three things.  It could be a stress fracture, severe tendinitis, or it could be gout.  And she was sure it was gout.
For those of you who don't know, gout is a condition caused by the build-up of uric acid in the blood stream, and it commonly flairs up after someone indulges in high-protein foods and/or alcohol.  Given that I had noticed the symptoms right after going to Chicago and indulging in some amazing food and more than a bit of alcohol, the diagnosis made a lot of sense.  But, we wouldn't know for sure without a blood test, which I would have to come back for next week.  She seemed pretty sure it was gout though.  I hoped to hell she was wrong.
Gout, as you probably know, is not curable.  It's a disease that once you have it, you keep having recurrences of it throughout your life.  Which means you need to avoid alcohol and protein.  And that does not sound like a lot of fun.  But more than that, I really did not want to believe I could have something at this age that could not be cured.  I didn't want to believe that my body was defective, for lack of a better word.  I know my body will turn on me at some point and I'll get some condition, disease, or problem that I won't have any choice but to deal with for the rest of my life.  But, I didn't want to believe I was old enough for that to start happening now.  Which is ridiculous, but that has not stopped me from believing irrational things in the past and I doubt it's stopping me now.
The doctor prescribed some anti-inflammatory meds, which is apparently the treatment for any of the problems it could be and I scheduled a follow-up visit with my regular doctor.  In the interim, I wore around a walking boot for a couple of days, which aggravated my back and made me feel even older and more infirmed.  I was miserable.  I take walking around, dancing*, and general mobility for granted and this was pointing out to me how important those things are to me and my sense of well-being.
By the next week, the inflammation and swelling had gone down and I was in much better shape.  It still hurt, but it was better.  We did the blood test and he examined the joint that was the problem and he decided that I had merely sprained my toe joint, which most likely happened when I was dancing at the Springsteen concert--Wrigley Field had exacted its revenge on me once again. 
I say merely a sprain, because it's better than gout, but it was a really good sprain.  Luckily the same anti-inflammatory medication was the right way to go and all that was necessary was to rest it and do some physical-therapy-style exercises.  So that's good news.  And in fact, things now are almost all back to normal.  I've been wearing some spiffy tennis shoes to school for a couple weeks and that's helped insulate my foot and I'm doing my exercises.  I'm probably at 85% now.  Not dancing yet, but I will soon.
*Note 1.  Not good dancing, but dancing around my house when I'm feeling good or when I need to feel good.  Or just for whatever.  This is generally not the kind of dancing I would inflict on others.

Mooted

So.  I am looking over my off-brief argument for moot court.  For those who don't know, some moot courts require contestants to argue the case they're given both ways.  That is, everyone is required to turn in a brief of their argument and then during the oral argument phase, they are required to argue for their brief (the "on-brief argument") and later against the position of their brief (the "off-brief argument").  It's designed to make you better at oral arguments, because you're looking at both sides of the argument and can then prepare for what the other side will say.  But, because I was writing a brief on one side, that side got much more attention and was better researched.
This hadn't been much of a problem until two weeks ago when I was last giving my off-brief argument.  And I got completely destroyed by a professor.  I mean destroyed.  He decided that my reading of a convention was not correct and, after us going back and forth (me respectfully, him less so*), he just happened to have the convention with him and read it out--looking straight at the convention and reading it out slowly and methodically.  And where I contended the language was "as such," he read out "such as," which changes the meaning of everything I was saying and pretty much killed me.  It was embarrassing and humiliating.  It was beyond discouraging.  It meant I needed to re-do all the research I had put into that argument, and given the fact that we're so close to the competition date, it meant I had wasted the prior time and I had to get my shit together.
This professor and I have a history.  I took a class with him last semester and ended up really respecting him.  He's sharp, articulate, and prepared.  He was the smartest guy in the room, and I couldn't blame him for enjoying that.  We didn't always agree on the subject matter, but I received good feedback throughout the class with him.  I also did a writing project with him that further showed me that he was a great guy.  He was not always happy with what I had written and had a tendency to be very dismissive when I was on the wrong track, but I always thought it came from a place of helpfulness.  I thought he really wanted me to succeed and do better work than I had.
So.  Fast forward to today when I am doing my research.  I looked at the convention as it was reprinted in our packet for the competition.  And it says "as such," as I contended.  Okay.  No biggie, we're supposed to be using live legal precedents and such, so it's probably just a misprint.  I mean, this professor was looking right at the friggin' thing.  And this at least explains my problem.  I hadn't researched this as thoroughly as I should have.
So.  I look it up from a reliable source that does not make misprints.  And it says "as such," as I fucking contended it did.  I've checked 5 different and very reliable sources.  They all agree that the conventions says "as such," which means either this professor of law didn't read it correctly when he was stridently reading out the convention to me, or it means he lied for some reason.  I can't help but think he lied.  I don't want to delve into the possible reasons, but he was reading it very carefully and very slowly and looking specifically for whether it said "as such," or "such as."  And I wouldn't mind so much if after we were done, he didn't look at me and say, "Well, I got you on that point."
I guess I have to chalk it up as a lesson.  I'm not exactly sure what that lesson is, beyond you can't take anyone's word for it, even if they're reading from the book.

*Note 1.  Which he explained as preparing us for the judges who are likely to be less than patient with us.

Jobs (or breaking out of my paralysis)

So my moot court brief is in.  The worst of that is over, and now I have to turn my attention to what I have been putting off since...well, since a long time ago.  I have to turn my attention to getting a job.
About a year from now, I will have (hopefully) just been told I passed the bar and that my career as an attorney can officially begin.  And my goal is to have a job at least close to in place by that time.  But, of course, there are obstacles to this.  Some of them I have absolutely no control over (the job market*, the whims of employers**, and the randomness of job searching).  I need to let go of as much of that as I can and concentrate on what I do have control over, because I have focused so much on all of that and I have come away feeling depressed or angry.  But more than that, I've come away feeling paralyzed.  And I cannot afford that anymore.  I have to get moving.
So let's focus on what I can control.
First--my grades (more or less).  I don't know if now that I'm done with OCI*** that the employers I will be looking at will be less concerned with grades.  I've been told that by a couple of people, but I'm not quite buying it.  It probably cannot hurt in any situation to say, 'but look at my grades, I'm awesome.'
Second--my networking.  I am not comfortable with "networking" as a concept.  I am not comfortable with "networking" in action.  I am a quiet, introverted person and getting out there and asking people a bunch of questions, while also giving them information on me and what I'm looking for in a job, is daunting to me.  But this is how jobs are found, I'm told.  And it's not like I'm an uninteresting person.  I just have trouble opening-up, which I think is pretty common.  So.  I just have to be more assertive and confident.  Which I can do.  No, I really can.
Third--my goals.  A) what kind of work I want to do.  This has probably been my biggest problem with the whole job-getting thing.  I don't know exactly where I want to work.  I have friends who love love love criminal law, or tax law****, or elder law. I have not had that, exactly.  I have really liked working with clients.  I really enjoy the times when I've been able to counsel them (under supervision, at this point), talk with them, you know, actually be a lawyer.  I've liked the areas I've worked in, but I think more than the law, I've liked the clients.  And if I had to distill it all down, that's what I want--to work with individuals, and not huge corporate entities (by which I mean small business would be fun to work with, but not gigantic corps.).  This eliminates some career paths, but not that many really.  And when someone asks what sort of law I want to be in, I feel odd saying, 'I want to help people.'  It just feels like something a naive person says.  And it doesn't say anything about what I want to do, really.  You can help people in almost any type of law.
At this point, I am really having trouble breaking it down farther than that.  I don't want to foreclose an area of law that may end up being interesting, but I also don't want to come off like an idiot who doesn't know what they want to do (even though this might be true).
B)  where I want to work.  This is actually a much easier question for me.  I want to work at a medium or small firm (or in the government if possible).  I want to work in an atmosphere that allows for challenge, but I don't want to feel like I have not time for life.
Fourth--my expectations.  Look, it is shitty in the job market right now.  So, yes, I have to hustle and get to know people, hoping they'll want to help me out.  But I need to allow for the fact that a lot of my running around may lead nowhere.  And that has to be okay.  At the same time, I need to be smart about using my time, because I am still pretty busy with school and such.  I won't get a job in one day, so I just need to allow for that.

*Note 1.  For the love of all that is good, can any attorney I talk with about the job market not mention the words, "tough," "rough," or "shitty" to me?  I know it sucks.  Reminding me of it just makes me feel like I should be doing more.  (And, yes, I probably should be doing more, but reminding me of that is not necessary.)  I also don't need to be reminded that competition is fierce.  I can compete.  Trust.
**Note 2.  One actual job interview I went on involved the interviewer speaking in the most convoluted way he could think of (and he was really creative about it) and then asking me, "Now, what did I just say?"  He was testing my ability to reason on my feet, which is fair, I suppose.  But man that sucked.
***Note 3.  Ugh.
****Note 4.  For real.  LOVES tax law.  I took income tax this semester partially hoping I too would fall for the sultry seductress of spreadsheets, but alas, it was not meant to be.

The Springsteen Concert--Told in Mosaic

Wrigley Field the night of the concert.

Last Saturday I was lucky enough to have the chance to get to see Bruce Springsteen in concert.  In Chicago, which, as anyone reading this probably knows, is a place I lived for almost 10 years.
As most of you probably also know, I have been a Springsteen fan for a long time.  And one of my regrets was that I had never had the opportunity to see him live before.  Either because he was not touring, or because when he was I just couldn't pull the money together to get to the nearest concert.  So when he announced a tour for his newest album, I was determined to get to see him.  When the dates were first announced, they did not include anything terribly close to me, so I talked Dinah into going to Chicago to see him.  I am a lucky man, because it did not take long to convince her, despite the fact that I am a law student, which means I am not making money right now and disposable income is not the easiest thing to come by.
So.  Saturday.  I was so excited all day.  I tried not to appear too anxious, but I had been looking forward to this all day.  All week, really.  Probably longer.  Walking up to the concert was exciting.  A horde of people had descended on Wrigley Field.  And it was electric.  People of all different ages and backgrounds coming together for one purpose.

The stage before the concert

The show was scheduled to start at 7:30 and we got to our seat at 7:15.  And we waited.  And waited.  People were still filing in at 7:45, and I sat there waiting for it to start.  Thoughts started creeping into my head.  Maybe this isn't happening.  There's been an accident.  Or there's an ordinance that won't let him perform tonight.  Or something.  Around 8:00, I was starting to twitch a little when I heard people on the roof decks next door start to cheer.  And I see they're pointing.  And I smiled.
Quickly, I could see that the cheering had made its way to the field, as the band was making its way to the stage.  Now, not any band, mind you.  This was the E-Street band.  The excitement was coming to a boil.  Bruce Springsteen and the E-Street band was walking to the stage and they were going to play music--their music--for me.  Very soon.
I think the concert started around 8:05.  I don't really remember.  I remember the whole concert, but not in a way that is tied to time.  I remember it in a way that is tied to the way I was feeling.  Before the concert, I felt nervous and anxious.  As soon as the music started, I felt such joy.  All the previous emotions exploded and I was able to just enjoy everything.  So what happens next, in this blog isn't really tied to time or chronology.  It's just a few things I can share.
*****

Official (blurry) Wrecking Ball flags

"Sometimes I feel so weak, I just want to explode..."
They started with "Promised Land," I started crying.  Everything was perfect.  The music hit me like a ton of joyful, happy bricks.  I was surprised by the harmony and the sudden sensation of music filling the night.
***
"Because the night belongs to us..."
Nils Lofgren.  His guitar solo on "Because the Night" was amazing.  He tore that song to shreds, as he kick-whirled in circles and took that song to a place of such intensity that my heart pounded in rhythm.  I don't do his solo justice.  It was the most awesome display of uninhibited badassery that I have ever witnessed.
*****
"Now get yourself a song to sing and sing it 'till you're done
Yeah, sing it hard and sing it well
Send the robber barons straight to hell..."
Tom Morello is a technical master of the guitar.  He should be studied by scientists and musicians.  And his guitar solos were also fucking amazing.  The big screens showed closeups of his hands as he was playing, and that was fucking mesmerizing.  His hands seemed to be lightly touching the strings, but the way he made the guitar shriek and shudder was gorgeous and haunting.
And the fact that he written on his guitar was "ARM THE HOMELESS" just added to his amazingness.
****
Speaking of haunting.  Eddie Vedder.  I had no idea he was a Chicago person, but when he and Bruce sang "My Hometown," it was so affecting.  But nothing beats hearing Springsteen and Vedder's duet on "Darkness on the Edge of Town."  So much soul.  So much heart and pain.  And so fucking rocking.  Vedder's voice is perfect for that song.  I can't.  I don't have the words to explain how amazing that song was.
****
And really, I don't have the words for anything that happened afterwards.  When "Born to Run" came on, I felt everything in my body shake.  I felt energy shoot through me.  I've never felt anything like that.
****
"Hold tight to your anger,
hold tight to your anger,
hold tight to your anger, and don't fall to your fears..."
When he sang Wrecking Ball, something in me that I didn't realize was asleep woke up.  And, of course, I cried.  This is where I put the concert in the context of my life...so if you're looking just for concert blabbering, you probably want to skip ahead now.
As most of you know, I'm in law school.  My third year of law school, which means I have to find a job soon.  And the market out there is really tough.  It's been three years of assuming everything will work out, even when things haven't worked out.  It's been three years of working really hard, mostly alone--and feeling that loneliness very much with me most days, especially these days.
I remember listening to this song when it originally came out before I started law school.  I was sitting in the old white caravan that Dinah and I had bought from her parents.  I had downloaded the song and had been listening to it almost on repeat for a while.  That particular night I was meeting Dinah and some friends at a Thai restaurant for New Year's Eve, I think.  I was a little late getting off from work, because I was the only person who needed to stay late on New Year's Eve.  Just as I was parking, "Wrecking Ball" came on.  I sat there in the space and just listened to it, thinking about law school and wondering whether I was really up to it.
And that night came back to me as the song rushed out at me.  Law school had been popping in my head throughout the night.  And that's the genius of music.  If it's good music, it can capture you.  It can hold your attention, while also drawing you to the things in your life that are on your mind.  And this song called up the many moments where I've felt the body blows of law school.  And it reminded me that I've survived them all.  And I will survive this getting a job thing too.  
*****
"I think perhaps "C" protected me from a world where it wasn’t always so easy to be an insecure, weird and skinny white boy either.  But, standing together we were badass, on any given night, on our turf, some of the baddest asses on the planet.  We were united, we were strong, we were righteous, we were unmovable, we were funny, we were corny as hell and as serious as death itself."

There was a moment in the first part of the concert where he talked about ghosts.  He said we're always taught when we're young that ghosts are something to be afraid of, but they're not.  Ghosts are the pieces of things we carry with us, that remind us of who we are.  And he told us to close our minds and think about the ghosts we carry.  Think about them and they will be there with you.  Think about them and they will be standing with you.  I closed my eyes, thinking about the moving eulogy (quoted above) Springsteen gave for Clarence Clemons. And with tears seeping between my closed eyelids, I could see my ghosts.  I could see the people who helped me become the person I am.  I could see them standing next to me.  Not just people who are dead, because I've been pretty lucky not to have lost too many people close to me.  The people who stood with me were people I don't get to see much anymore.  The people who I miss like they were family, even though many of them aren't.  I miss all my Chicago family, lately very desperately.
I've been so worried about law school and getting a job, and being a grown-up lately.  That I've really longed for the days when it was easy for me to have a family.  I've really longed for a group of people to tell me, or show me that everything is going to be all right.  Poor Dinah has had to shoulder a load that used to be spread over a number of people, and it has not been fair to her.  I've been feeling so alone and so alienated from everything.  But I'm not alone.  The ghosts aren't gone.  They're standing there with us.
*****
There was another moment during "Tenth Avenue" when the music cut and a montage of Clarence was shown.  So affecting.  The specter of Clarence hung over the whole concert.  At first I wasn't sure how that was making me feel.  It was odd to see another sax player, even if he was Clarence's nephew and he was tremendous.  But I came to understand, partially through the earlier talk of ghosts when we all knew Bruce was talking about Clarence, and partially through this moment, that this was a celebration of Clarence.  It was special to be a part of it.
*****
I am never going to meet Bruce Springsteen.  As amazing as that would be for me, it's just not something that seems really likely.  But there is something very beautiful about his music--it speaks to me in a way no other musician's music can consistently do.  His music has given me courage, and made me feel more like the person I dream I am.  Just listening to it on CD, or radio or iPod--whatever--it can make me feel so many different things.
But hearing it live.  Hearing it straight from the man himself.  I can now say I have met the music.  I interacted with it.  It was a living, breathing, fiery, terrifying, sensitive being of soul and heart.  And it knew me.  It pushed me past feelings of insecurity, sadness, loneliness.  It corralled something I haven't really been able to tame for a while.  It was purifying.  It was maddening.  It was everything I wanted it to be, and more than I could have expected.  I can hope to meet the music again (and I do...I really do).  I hope that a little part of that night, the ghost of that music, will always stand with me when I hear the music.  I think it will.

Why yes, it has been a while since I posted...But now I move forward...

There are many reasons I have not posted here in a while.  The first was law school was busy last semester (and will be this semester too, so...).  The second is this summer I really did not know what to say.  It was a good relaxing summer and a lot of things were on my mind, but I didn't really have a lot to say about them.
Not that I have so many answers right now, but I'm  at least in a mind where I can talk about them.  Two things in particular hit me this summer.
The first thing that hit me this summer was that this was my last full-summer break.  Next year I will be studying for the bar, which I hear is not relaxing.  And a good number of years after that (God willing) I will be lawyering.  So, a lot of the things I planned to do this summer, like update this blog or my Gumshoe stuff, took a back seat to my selfish feeling that I wanted to milk it a little.  I did work this summer, at two great places, and I wrote my long paper.*  But I also made sure I found time to read a couple books, see some movies, and generally mess around.  It was good.
The second thing that hit me this summer was that (and I don't know that I want to really own this statement right now) I like law school.  And.  I am going to miss it when it is over.  As I sit here going over cases for the moot court I made,** thinking about the amazing amount of work that sits in front of me this semester, I can't say I feel this quite as fully as I did back then.  But, it's still true.  Law school has been a good experience for me, on the whole.  There have been setbacks aplenty.  There have been times when I felt like I was being punched in the face repeatedly and there was no choice but to keep going.  But you know what?  I did keep going.  And I got better at it (mostly).  That feels really good.  I have no question now that I will be an excellent attorney.  I just need to find a good opportunity and continue forward.
But.  That's getting ahead of myself.  I have a long year ahead of me.  Including the moot court, I'm taking the equivalent of 16 credits this semester (beating my previous, near-insanity-inducing 15).  I have to really get on the networking/finding a job situation.***  And I still want to do well here.
So here we go.

*Note 1.  My law school requires every student to write a "long paper," i.e. over 8,500 words.  I wrote mine on transsexual prisoners.  It was really interesting and surprisingly fun to write.  It was also very depressing as transsexual prisoners are way more likely to suffer assault or sexual assaults at the hands of other prisoners or guards.  And there's not much happening to stop that.

**Note 2.  Rock!  Hopefully it will only be in a fake court of law that I will defend a corporation against "advocacy of genocide" charges.

***Note 3.  Especially since I was shut out of OCI again.  I really don't understand it at this point.  And it doesn't matter.  That part of law school is over.  Forward.