Single in Saint Louis

The Most Commented On Entries

Wed, 27 Aug 2008 15:40:32 GMT

In case anyone is interested, I found it interesting, here are the most commented on blogs on this site. Lawyer Stick People, Sept. 30, 2005 My Space Teen, June 30, 2006 Forget the UN, July 18, 2006 Heritage, May 22, 2006 Graduation, May 20, 2006 12 Honest Truths About Women, Dec. 15, 2005 Depression in the US, May 26, 2006 Catwoman, Nov.9, 2005 For Adrian, Whoever you are, May 25, 2006 In Defense of Men, June 29, 2008 Cell Phone or talking to oneself? Jan. 12, 2006 A Little Native Culture, Oct. 3, 2005 My Life as a TV Drama, Oct 2, 205 Law School Debt, Oct. 4, 2005 The Stormy Stormy Night, Nov. 6, 2005 Dollhouse, May 26, 2006

Tango

Mon, 25 Aug 2008 10:46:12 GMT

There is an entry coming from Friday night's extravaganza, but it isn't ready yet. It is being edited.

Restless Nights

Mon, 25 Aug 2008 10:22:04 GMT

It's just God and me at 3:00 am. We're awake.

My stomach is queasy, and has been since around 9:00 last night. About the time my friend from GC left from having a cup of tea and my next door neighbor went down to the creepy basement to get an extra bedframe that I have stored away. About the time that ex showed up to give me the pictures of my Goddaughter's baptism and my swearing in ceremony. Right before I realized that even now, months later, we cannot have a conversation without grating on each other's nerves on some level, and minutes before I knocked on next door neighbors door again to go back down to the creepy basement with me while I "got my laundry, which I hate doing in the creepy basement at night", which was actually a girl code for needing the presence of someone for a few minutes. Then, I sat at my table and drank a cup of tea, randomly opened the Bible, and read a verse that had nothing to do with anything going on in my life at the moment. I suppose that is because I wasn't looking for guidance, I was looking for comfort. When looking for comfort, it really doesn't matter what God says so long as it is something vaguely familiar.

At bedtime I was sleepy, but I had this weird sensation in my left leg, it was twitching. I noticed I was biting my bottom lip, a nervous habit of mine that has existed since I was probably two years old. As tired as I was, I was physically too active to go to sleep. I called Salsa Girl 3, the late nighter, who was driving home from a rather eventful weekend of her own life. I preferred listening to her story over telling my own. I eventually fell asleep.

I know why I woke up. It was the dreams again. The "ex" dreams. Of course I was going to have them after seeing him, as briefly as it may have been. Although I know while I am awake that everything is for the best. My dreams twist and turn things and screw up my chi. They make things that were, what they were not. Things that are as they are not. This is what dreams do by their very nature. Without realizing that, they are very dangerous things indeed. I had to wake up to regain some sense of reality.

When I had been awake for about five minutes the headache started. A sharp pain from the back center of my head to the front center. First in a little streak, then a couple then my head feels hot, then my body feels hot, then my head just aches, then it starts getting worse and worse until the tunnel vision begins, I know the drill. Not the first time this has happened. I flip on the light only to feel the pain intensify, my eyes begin to hurt. I put on sunglasses to walk to the bathroom knowing the bathroom light is going to cause an unbearable pain. I grab some Migraten. If I take it now, maybe I can get back to sleep tonight and sleep off the migraine before work tomorrow.

I cannot read or anything so I just sit and think waiting for the meds to start working their magic. Thinking proves dangerous too. It is a to do list a mile long of things that need to be done. Things that haven't been done, and things that should have been done a long time ago. It doesn't help the headache. I think of resentment. I think of money, student loans, jobs, and many other stressful things. Obviously, none help. I try my best to think of anything in my life that is not stressful in its current state of affairs. hmmm...nothing, but the fact that I don't have to worry about anyone but myself. A small amount of solace. Then I get a distinct thought that it would sure be nice to have someone take care of me from time to time. Especially, in times like right now. It would sure be nice to have someone do my dishes. Dishes stress me out.

I aim for the more mundane. I make a conscious decision to think through book titles of books I have read and one thing I liked about each book. Luckily, that did the trick. It was just mundane enough to calm me down. I slowly start to drift back to sleep.

Equality, Courtesans, Husbands, and Wives

Sun, 24 Aug 2008 03:17:21 GMT

Why have my last few dates been with men who generally do not understand wit, cannot spell, and have no real life goals? I was starting to be concerned that I am just a magnet for this type. Good thing I am not really out on the "market" looking for a serious relationship yet. However, I was put at ease with a little research I did today.

Back in the sixteenth century there was no such thing as love as it relates to marriage. Marriage was a business deal. It was all about movement up and down the social ladder, money, dowrys, and helping men secure high positions in the community. There was no "love" in marriage. The idea of "love" in marriage doesn't enter history until the protestant reformation. This means that for centuries, "love" had nothing to do with anything. "Passions" were left for Courtesans. "Wives" were just partners in a business deal whose duty it was to produce and nurture heirs.

The more I read about traditional marriage, the more I learned about the traditional "wife."

Traditional wives were inconsequential and desirably uneducated. Yes, that is right. It was best for women to be uneducated until the Protestant reformation and Renaissance, and even then, it seemed a wife was limited in her education. You didn't want a wife to be smarter than her husband! That would be atrocious. The wives were often incredibly unhappy or led a completely separate life from their husband, they were kept uneducated about nearly everything in the world that didn't relate to child rearing or social circles. There was no companionship in marriage.

The unmarriageable women were destined to a life as a courtesan. As a courtesan they were well-educated. If they were lucky they would be held in high regard, treated as a royal, and well-respected like Madame Pompadour. If they were unlucky, they would end up as our current idea of prostitute. It is like the difference between a geisha or misstress and a call girl. Courtesans had great power, wives had no power. I find this most interesting. I think it is still reflected today in our societal interactions, rules of the workplace, and most of all the requirement to wear wretched pantyhose.

The real reason for this, and the deep rooted association, is actually power. As the common stereotype goes: Powerful is sexy. Sexy is beautiful. Beautiful is intelligent. Intelligent is threatening. Thus, many Courtesans died with their heads getting chopped off. Many modern women hit glass ceilings.

This leaves me perplexed. There are more women hitting glass ceilings than there were courtesans. Do wives stll exist?

It seems now days the majority of women would fall more into the category of Courtesan than wife. The modern husband is now more like the "Don" of a Geisha. A man dedicated to one woman by love and committed to support her (although she is capable of supporting herself) while she provides companionship for him. Which says something huge for society. We are going through a giant transition and are just nearing the end of it now, after thousands of years. Women have become powerful. Love is now a basis for marriage.

All these things that were once set in separate circles of life are merged into one big constantly moving social circle. Wives are called to be mistresses and mothers with still little help from men, no wonder they are worn out. However, this idea of "love" keeps a woman and man together. It is all very intriguing. And men are starting to change, albeit slowly. No longer is it expected that they stay in their "manly" world of business and cigars. Men are sometimes choosing the housewife route too, and yielding business and cigars to women.

This makes me think that all this quest for women's rights has actually gotten us somewhere. A world that has not only opened the doors of men to women, but the doors of women to men. Ultimately, that is what we were fighting for with all this women's rights stuff. Societal progression has gotten us to a point where men are starting to equalize themselves with women.

All that being said, this solves the burning question of why my last few dates have been with men who are generally uneducated and disinterested in being anything but whatever I want them to be. Apparently, I am a poweful enough women, that those men want to be my "husband" defined as a traditional wife. Only, I think I would much rather have a male courtesan as a companion.

The World Follows You Around

Fri, 22 Aug 2008 13:02:26 GMT

My alarm goes off at 7am. I roll over and hit it, wishing it was Saturday, that I didn't have to go to bed, that I didn't have to go to work, and really that I didn't have to move. I roll back over and bury my head in the pillows to keep the sunlight that is starting to sprinkle through my windows from waking me. I get 9 more minutes of blissful sleep. My alarm goes off it's 7:09 am. I roll over and hit it, grab my blackberry and immediately check my email. I am lured by the blinking red light. It taunts me. No real email, just about fifty from listserves and various other stuff I am signed up on. I return some emails that were sent last night. I am more awake now. I walk to the living room to get my laptop. I grab it and bring it back to my bed. I sit for the next fifteen minutes checking the news and reading the newest comments on the blog. Soon, I will get ready for work where I will spend my day sitting in front of a computer screen. I will most likely come home, have to work on my private practice and spend the evening sitting right here, in front of this computer. I will wake up and do the exact same thing tomorrow. Which makes me realize something...My entire day is spent with a computer and a blackberry. They follow me everywhere I go all day, every day. It is starting to get annoying and I can only wonder how much I would get done if I didn't have them following me all day. I pick up my laptop and take it into my office. Open it back up and check my schedule. Apparently, next Saturday I am free to not use technology, and I am going to not use it. We are so accessible these days to everyone in the entire world, all the time, that there is always someone there, something to do, and something to be read, seen, heard, experienced. I am starting to think the entire world might be on experience overload. The constant over stimulation of our everyday is starting to be reflected in our behaviors toward others. Our constant pressure to get somewhere quickly, so much so that we have raised the speed limits and feel it is necessary to cuss relentlessly at that car in front of us that is moving slowly because the large semi truck in front of them is moving slowly because a school bus is in front of him. We are so surrounded by people all the time, that we don't truly appreciate the people that surround us. I wonder what would happen if you gave a high school student these days a typewriter? If you slowed life down just enough that it was noticeable. If you were allowed one day a week and evenings of not being accessible to work.

90 Hour Work Weeks

Fri, 22 Aug 2008 12:34:02 GMT

There has never in my life been a time when I am more tired than I have been these last few weeks. I've been putting in 90 hours a week just to get by. But in the words of a good friend, "Such is the life of a solo attorney! Perhaps in a couple of years you can get down to 80 hour work weeks, but not any time soon." For someone as into balance as I happen to be, this is absolutely insane. I really need to just start making time for my life again. As such, I made the decision that this week is my last week of 90 hours. Next week, I am going back to my balanced schedule. More got done on my balanced schedule anyway. So, if my writing is AWOL, so sorry. Will be trying to write more in the weeks to come when things slow down a little.

What Your Searching For...

Tue, 12 Aug 2008 13:12:52 GMT

You all have been busy searching! Here are some of the more recent searches that hit this site, and my commentary of course...

1. Stories that teach Christian Values. I am sure there are some good Christian values somewhere in this blog.

2. Fiction Stories that teach Christian Values. See above

3. How to believe when you pray. If you believe, you will believe when you pray. Look within.

4. Dehli school of Economics Awesome. Dehli.

5. Relationship Stages

6. Guy communicates via away messages Seriously, need to find a new way to talk. Try calling him. Just to be funny, or send and email.

7. Buy Aloe Wine China Michael claims there are no words. He would like to know if he is going to be the wine or drink it.

8. Saint of relationships ST. Valentine (fianced), St. Dwynwen (lovers), St. Regis (Married), St. Benedict Joseph Labre (single men), St. Anne (Single ladies)

9. Personal Assistant Cover Letter

10. Single Station Saint Louis

11. Locked out, how to break into house.

12. Working as a 1L intern Hope it works out for you!!!

13. My feelings for my ex, go away. They will, give it time, absorb yourself into your own life. They will fade.

14. I want to believe in love again, tired of everyday, I just wanna break free. Do the Beth Moore Bible study on my page, a little yoga, and don't put pressure on yourself, you will believe when you are ready.

15. Worst ways to dump someone.

16. Black interview suit

17. Olive Oil good for complexion

18. Manizer means...

19. Mediocre 1L grades. Don't worry about it, just do better next semester.

20. If your ex is mean to you does he still like you? No. The answer is No. he doesn't like you, he will not like you, now move on and leave him!

21. Learn to trust after a break up It's a choice, and a tough thing to do.

21. Across the floor hip hop doing happy dance!

22. Should I care what my ex thinks? Again, no, Really your ex is your ex, let him be your ex. An ex is an ex is an ex.

23. Way to say hello via text Hello works, also hllo and hi.

24. Job Date Someone else is a bit of a workaholic.

25. It is time for you and me baby Is it really darling?

26. How to end a relationship with your sibling. You really shouldn't. You're probably just mad at them, and family is family.

27. Light gray interview suit law interview Don't wear it. Gray isn't a powerful color, you will blend in with the background.

28. My bride's maids

29. queen bees and adult women I'm so glad I am getting some working women on here! Yeah!

30. Respect for Women in the workplace

31. How to get over a broken engagement This has hit the site approximately 20 times from different searches. Glad I could share with you my journey.

32. Letting you go. Wow, big transformation here!

33. So Pathetic Y'ar not.

Coolest Olympians Ever (To be continued...)

Mon, 11 Aug 2008 08:50:21 GMT

Two words. Mike Phelps. Next two words Dara Torres.

Why Mike Phelps is the coolest.

Mike Phelps is the coolest because his coach has been and always will have been the equivalent to that dude that teaches swim lessons at the local YMCA. He wasn't some great olympian himself, just a guy with an eye for talent that knew what he was doing. I am sure Mike could have kicked the coach and got a new one, but he stuck with who got him where he was going. His mom rocks and yells for him from the stands and holds nothing back to show how proud she is of her son. Most importantly, he is competitive most with himself. It isn't about who is swimming next to him and beating him, it is about how fast he can go, what records he can break, and how many medals he can get. There is something to be said for that.

Why Dara Torres is the coolest.

Dara Torres is the coolest because she has single handedly proven to all the women in the world that you can be 40, have a kid, and still have rock hard abs and a chance at a gold medal. Need I say more?

I Believe

Mon, 11 Aug 2008 08:42:06 GMT

I have been reading the book This I Believe and felt compelled to write a list of what I believe. I quickly came to realize, I believe a lot.

I believe in God. A source much larger than we give him credit, much different than we imagine, and much more encompassing than we are taught.
I believe in Love. I believe God is love, and that is part of the reason why we don't fully understand God.
I believe we are all somehow related. We are all a part of this world, we are brought into each other's lives for many reasons, and there is no person who is not important in some way to shaping your spirit.
I believe that sometimes our greatest mistakes are our biggest lessons, that our weaknesses are often our greatest strengths, our failures our greatest successes, and our fears our greatest achievements.
I believe I can do it. No matter what it is. It just might take a little help.
I believe that sometimes you just have to let go and move on.
I believe that the little things in life are far more important than the pomp and circumstance.
I believe that multigrain cheerios really are good for you.
I believe that music speaks to your heart, and those that make it are truly a gift to this world.
I believe I have worked too much this week, and last.
I believe there are more important things than your job like family, friendships, and taking time for yourself.
I believe that money grows on trees, I just need to find the tree.
I believe rolly pollies roll up because they are scared.
I believe everything in this world has a spirit of its own and we, as humans, are protectors of those spirits.
I believe we exploit a lot, destroy a lot, and disrespect a lot of what nature gives us for less important things, like money, land, and large buildings.
I believe gas prices are still too high.
I believe in hope. Because sometimes that is all there is to believe in, and I believe hope makes faith.
I believe my view of existence is limited to that which I can see, but that there is so much more going on around me than I am capable of ever seeing.
I believe those that love us are with us, watching, and guiding us even after they die, especially after they die.
I believe humanity doesn't really know it's purpose, but fish and plants very well might.
I believe everyone has a voice, and should be able to use it.
I believe in second chances and forgiveness.
I believe you should be nice to the people who take out your trash, deliver your whopper, and wait on your table. I believe they are public servants just like lawyers, doctors, firefighters, policemen, and teachers, and deserve the same level of respect.
I believe in slowing down for construction workers.
I believe a lot can be resolved with a good nights sleep.
I believe that sometimes its ok to run away for awhile.
I believe that you never leave your roots no matter where you go.
I believe you should stand up for what you believe in whatever that is, and whoever disagrees.
I believe you can and should compromise.
I believe that everyone has a purpose, a direction, and a reason to be here.
I believe that purpose doesn't manifest itself until heaven.
I believe that most lawyers are not shady and are actually genuinely respectable people with big hearts that like to help others.
I believe sometimes God whispers, sometimes he talks, and sometimes he Screams!
I believe that a good education is worth something, and a college degree is worth more than the paper it is written on.
I believe that things will get better in the stock market.
I believe that someday I will find my companion in life.
I believe family is important.
I believe my car is awesome!
I believe life will turn around.
I believe that if you do good, good will return to you.
I believe in mercy.
I believe peace can be achieved without war.
I believe the lessons learned from failure are more important and useful than the lessons from success.
I believe in life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness.
I believe we can learn a lot from history.
I believe those heels look awesome with that skirt.
I believe you are beautiful, just the way you are.
I believe dancing is a window to your soul.
I believe the fastest way to really lose weight is to jog a mile every two days, and do some yoga.
I believe children should be required to go outside to play.
I believe this list could really go on for days so I am going to quit now.

Relief.

Tue, 05 Aug 2008 01:50:42 GMT

The dreams of last night were active dreams as my brain processed a huge chunk of the reality of my broken engagement and the emotions that came with it. Giant loads of information must have been stored. It was restless sleep all night long. I woke up at one point after the voice of the woman who was to be my future mother in law told me I could come back. I could be engaged again.   In my dream I was unsure that being unengaged was the right decision. In my wakeful state, I knew it was the right decision by my pure deep down inner bliss. I also knew that I was processing a doubt from several months ago. I remember the doubt. I remember when it arose. It was just now hitting my mind. It is only now, months later, when the water is calmed that my brain is cool enough on the subject to store the information, the insecurities, and the precious moments from the heat of the situation leading to my decision to end my engagement. That is why each of the dreams was so vivid, so oddly arranged, and so made of emotions and situations that had actually occurred in the past.

I found a meditative place with monotony at work. I found a soothing pattern of point and click at my computer screen that soothed me. I usually despise the monotony. Today I reveled in it. I found an inner peace with the point and click that kept me focused for longer than I have been able to focus in months. I felt quiet inside. I am usually outgoing and talkative, friendly and receptive. Today, save a few conversations with my closest colleagues, I was quiet, and completely in my head. So, much so, I decided to double check my work tomorrow before sending it to the powers that be.

On my way home I had several moments, again, more processing past events. A fleeting reality of everything I gave up for my relationship to work overtook me, pangs of heartache wrenched as I thought about my nephew's first birthday, a day I had missed. I thought about the ones I loved that I removed from my life. I felt anger with myself.   How long had I failed to listen to the things that were most important to me? Where have I been? I pulled up to my apartment with trickling tears running down my cheeks. Not sad tears or angry tears, but tears of release. There were less than I thought there would be, and each tear did more than I thought it would toward forgiving and healing.

I walked in my door to my frigid apartment. The room was cold and a stark contrast to the ridiculous outdoor heat.   I went directly to my room where I changed into my yoga wear and headed across town for class, making one stop on my way at the dancewear store to buy some tights. I walked in the dancewear store and saw the little pink tutus. I remembered being the little girl that dreamed of wearing one. It made me smile. I walked directly to the tights, picked up the ones I wanted. I knew exactly which ones, the same black capri tights I always wore in dance. I paid and left. Smiling again at the tutus as I left the store. I changed into my tights in my car. A trick learned from years of dance training. It reminded me of watching my mother squiggle into pantyhose after hers had torn before church on Sundays. I could do it now myself. I could change my own tights in the car. A marked sign of womanhood. It is on the same level as running in heels.

As I drove to yoga my brain felt mushed. I called Mom to try to see if I could carry on a conversation. Mom tried to talk about everything, about the weather, about her anniversary gift, about my nephews upcoming birthday party, and I was unable to verbalize much of anything. I had too much in my head, so I gave her a to do list. "I need to do some work. I need to type a pleading. I need to send this email." Mom understood I was struggling for words and with love and compassion said, "It is a good thing you are still doing yoga. I know you really like it. It chills you out."

I pulled up to the yoga studio knowing the need for this workout was greater than it had been in months. I could feel my back tense as I sat on the mat before class. I lay down to start class and realize I am in physical pain. Tons of it. My entire body feels as if it was hit by a truck. Each muscle is it's own little version of whiplash. I focus on my breath because my body is aching. Occasionally, a sharp pain will shoot down what is definitely a nerve in my leg, then my shoulder. I know these pains well. I used to feel them in dance. They are from muscles that need to stretch. It is the undoing of poor posture. "Om Namah Shivaya." I chanted it internally through my entire class in an effort to keep my focus inward.

Then came Savasana. Savasana is always an out of body experience for me. After years of practice in meditation, I find I can fall into a deep deep meditative state, a dreaming/waking place. It is the perfect place to pray. I am not in the world, but in it. I am watching while participating. It is a very interesting place to be indeed. Today, Savasana was much needed, and there I was, I was here, and I was there. My mind fell quiet as I lay perfectly still and relaxed to the bone. I felt a fly land on my forehead, I didn't move to brush it off. It just flew away. As if I was receiving a message from myself, I thought, "Welcome back." It was an odd thought, but I just let it be. When I sat up I felt different. I felt relaxed.   I went to pay. "What 's the date?" I asked my regular and favorite yoga instructor as I filled out my check. "August 4."

"Oh my gosh! Where have I been! Is it really August 4?" She laughed. "You've been in your head for three months!" I laughed, but I knew it was true. I knew as I walked to my car that for all the turbulence of the last couple months I was in my head. Now, I have processed those months and I can come out. I stepped from yoga and breathed in the fresh air, smelling summer for the first time this year, feeling the heat on my skin, soaking in a little sun. Resigning myself to life and all that comes with it. I feel at peace and ease.

I could have come home to work more. I suppose yesterday that is what I would have done, but today I can feel the remnants of the stress of the last few months in my body. I decide to take some time for myself. I need it. There is nothing too urgent on my list of to dos. There is nothing that cannot wait until tomorrow morning. I concoct a bedtime routine complete with a healthy dinner, a bubble bath to soothe those aching muscles, and a cup of hot tea to help me sleep tonight.   I turn off the ringer on my blackberry, so I can have some quiet. I turn off the television. I sit in the peace and quiet of my home, and start to listen to myself to what I really want, what I really feel, what I really need. Again, relief.

A Whole New Garden

Sat, 02 Aug 2008 18:11:58 GMT

Written and lived by Michael the Aloe, the coolest Aloe plant ever.

I am here, alone, in Single's apartment. Her cell phone went dead, she left her charger at the office, and she is making a rather slow and deliberate rush to Salsa girl one's for a charger, breakfast, and a little bit of bookstore perusing. Since she has little time to read these days, she will inevitably come home with a pile of books on cd to play as she works. I like the books too. I wonder which she will pick this week. The neighbor here has a garden. Pretty flirty flowers. They are young and annuals. I am much older than them now. Wow! I remember being able to hang with the flowers. I am in a whole different league now. They are fun to watch though, squiggling their way through life. Coming and going flippantly with the seasons. I fondly remember that part of my life.

I reflect. I have come a long way since my meager seedling beginnings to a full grown aloe. I have been so many places. Seen so many things. Met so many plants. It is quite amazing. I feel like if I grow big enough, I might just reach out with each of my long leaves and feel the entire world! It is a fantastic feeling. I am far away from where I started. I am over 1000 miles from where I was planted. I have traveled by car and truck and SUV. I have been carried by hand, and strapped in by a seat belt. I have love and been loved. I have grown and been grown. My only constant, and she is not so constant, Single. What would happen to me if she were gone? Where would I go then? Maybe it is morbid, but you know, a plant thinks about these things. Surely, Fish, that fussbudget in the living room, would die. But us plants, we would probably be taken to new homes. I wonder what those new homes would be like. I wonder what it would be like to live in the garden next door. Am I the only one who ever thinks about this? Mischa says I should just be happy where I am. We have it good. We really do, but I feel like there is so much more in life to be experienced.

I can tell you one place I wouldn't want to live is in Fish's bowl. He has to be the fussiest fish ever. If Single is a day late in cleaning his bowl he will float at the bottom of the tank and play dead. He is the ultimate drama fish, and feisty, oh so incredibly feisty. He will flare his fins at you if you get to close to the side of the tank. Maybe even a little narcissistic. He plumes constantly, watching his every pose, as if the whole world is watching him in his fishbowl. I would love to be the first to tell him that the only person watching is Single, and occasionally a friend, but I don't have a mouth, and I can't stand to break his poor little heart.

Enough of my ramblings. Single's key is in the front door. I must strike my own Aloe pose. Lean toward the light...no a little more...there. Out!

Ok fine.

Sat, 02 Aug 2008 13:29:59 GMT

I realize my blog entries have gotten a little long lately. I will try to make them shorter, but if it is something like my entry I just wrote about football, I can't make that shorter. Football is just far to important to write one paragraph about. I am sure you understand.

Finding a Real Pro Love: My ode to football, the best sport like ever, and also hockey is right after football, and then baseball, but football is first.

Sat, 02 Aug 2008 13:20:55 GMT

The sunlight is trickling through my window and casting that precious early morning glow on my room. This is one of my favorite times of day. As much as I hate waking up, I am somehow, a morning person.   I roll over to my first thoughts of the morning. The early morning glow this morning reminds me of something very happy. Football Season. (Not soccer, but American Football for my international readers.)

I have always loved football season! I love football! I remember cheering for football games in high school. It was one of my favorite things to do. The late Friday nights bouncing around with organized precision, eleven other girls surrounding me, Pom Pons flying, bands playing, and pep clubs cheering.   My team were something like ten time state champs or something. They very well may still be. There is nothing like a good hometown southern high school football game. Nothing. If you haven't experienced it, you just don't know. And that is where my love began. Way back then. In a land where football is life. Before I ever learned what a first down was. When I just wanted to jump around, do some kicks, dance around, and shake my Pom Pons. Could that really have been over ten years ago I was sporting my red and silver every Friday night?

Then came college. There are no fans like Oklahoma College Football fans. None. With no pro sports teams, those college teams were who we had. You were a Sooner or a Cowboy, and life, friendships, and even some religion is decided by which team you align yourself with. (Everyone knows God loves a Cowboys fan most!) A very powerful influence indeed. I am a Cowboy. I wear orange, still, even sitting on my couch watching the college game from home.   I can't help but remember walking down to the stadium and tailgating with my friends.   The "Cowboy first down in ten" being screamed over the loudspeaker as a crowd of thousands in orange scream with the announcer. The crisp fall Saturday mornings crawling from the student section to the alumni section to sit with my grandparents at the fifty yard line. The Cowboys didn't always win. In fact, Cowboy fans are true fans, we cheer for our team even when they lose. In my opinion, some of the best college football fans in the world. I see my diploma in my office.   What happy times from five years ago.

I think of my first year in Saint Louis getting up early to play flag football with the people I worked with. People who would somehow end up weaving their way through my life in the oddest circumstances. I loved those mornings. The sunshine would gleam through my window just like it is doing this morning. A friend would pick me up and that crisp fall breeze I remember so dearly from college would hit my face. I would run and play and sometimes tackle. Our team had so much fun! Then I would come home, sit on the couch, and watch football for hours. Sometimes alone while doing laundry. Sometimes with friends. It is still one of my fondest memories of Saint Louis. The absolute blissful peace of football day.

It has always been the only sport I can watch on television. In fact, Super Bowl Sunday in my world is like a holiday. It might as well be. I try to make it a point to do something with friends. To have some sort of a party or go to one.   But it seems every Sunday in my world during football season is a little mini Super Bowl, and for that matter every Saturday college game too. I can't imagine dating a guy who doesn't like football, or who isn't, at least, loyal to the sport. But honestly, I need someone who isn't going to judge as I scream at the television about stuff I really know nothing about.

Even with this incredible love of football, I don't have a favorite pro team. I love the sport, not a particular team. I love what it stands for, what it reminds me of, and what new memories come from it every year. I had a friend from my high school play for the Chicago Bears, and I cheered for them, but it was more for him. This year I am going to find a pro team to love. A real true pro football team type of love. A team I get behind like my college team and who I can cheer for like my high school team.   And then I realize I have never been to a pro football game. Never. In my life. I make it a point. I am ready, willing, and able to fall in love with a pro team. I have learned what I need to learn from my life to take on this endeavor of the one pro team I can spend my life cheering for. In goodtimes and in bad. Sickness and in health. Maybe, I should just love the one I am with, maybe the Rams will be my team, but we need to spend some time together first. I need to go to a few games. See if we have chemistry, and see how the relationship grows.

Picking a pro team is not a little choice. It's a big deal. I'm even going to have to support them when their season sucks, which means I need a team who I respect, who keeps me excited, and who I can keep coming back to year after year. The nachos and popcorn at the stadium will be of he utmost importance, just as important as the other fans and if they are positive supportive fans or fair weathered jerks. This is the real deal. If I am spending my life with this team, it needs to be for real.   In the words of Audrey Hepburn, "No longer will I play the field." It is time to find a real pro love.

Happily Ever After Revisited

Thu, 31 Jul 2008 12:34:18 GMT

She is dancing a quadrille! Everyone knows how to dance a quadrille! How unrefined if you do not! The beautiful dresses that require people to actually put clothes on other people are twirling. The flirting is done with wit and obscurity. A very disciplined form of the flirt. This relationship thing...that we constantly sit around now trying to figure out was actually an art form at one point in history in certain societies.

The rules of etiquette, the breach of which could leave a woman pennyless, were a full time job. Perhaps, rightfully so. Women weren't allowed to do much else other than strategically manipulate men into marrying them. It was a game to get the richest, the most noble, the most respectable man. There were rules to follow to get that man. Marriage was a business venture a job. That being said, because marriage was a business venture in the 18th century and not a fairytale, there were many different types of marriages. People didn't get divorced as often because it was perfectly ok to do whatever you chose in the relationship as long as both husband and wife agreed to it. There were acceptable affairs, acceptable flirtations, even acceptable mistresses and misters. As long as there was an open trust in the relationship, it wasn't a big deal. There was so much room in every relationship that the world could be swallowed into it! Each relationship defined itself.

Now, it is just not like that. Now, you can't even flirt with someone on a night out without being in a "committed relationship," and a first date is pretty much a marriage if you make it to the second date. This is quite ridiculous to me. People go from mini marriage to mini marriage without taking time to get to know the other person first. You are committed before you even know if you like each other. Why is that?

Men and women alike seem to be steadily more jealous and possessive than they have been in years before. Could it be that this idea of what a marriage is and isn't that is perpetuated by our Prince Charming Stereotypes is a complete abomination of the institution of marriage? Could the teachings of the "one" be keeping all of us from finding the "one"? Are we rushing into business ventures because we want a happily ever after? I can't help but think that maybe we are.

People can live years under the guise of the happily ever after without ever looking at the business aspect of marriage. It seems every girl wants to be a princess, who wants a Prince, every man is trying to be a Prince so he can get the Princess, but it is gone about all the wrong way. The problem is that
"Prince" is now followed by "charming" and "charming" implies some kind of magical enchanted happily ever after moment that everyone is waiting for. I have enough married friends to know that happily ever after is quite different than it seems.

And I hate to break it to you ladies, we are not all Princesses, most of us are Queens, and Queens these days own land, businesses, and can support ourselves without a Prince. We rule our own worlds. As such, we need Kings not Princes. Someone of equal rank and prestige. Someone with the confidence of nobility. Someone who is not threatened by our power but sees it as an opportunity. Someone whose ambitions match our own. What we should be looking for is someone who we want to work with, who's world we can merge with, who's kingdom we can both rule and as such have a larger kingdom. Perhaps, this searching for a love truly is a business venture as it was in the 18th century and not at all a happily ever after?

Making It Grow

Tue, 29 Jul 2008 12:55:20 GMT

I stare at my post it. I have written on the little hot pink square paper two numbers. Where I am, and where I need to be to stop working two jobs. There is a significant difference. Overwhelming. "How do I get there?" I just keep staring at the two numbers. I think it is funny that there is potential that someday I could look at this post it and think "Oh, how cute, that is the amount I started with that seemed so overwhelming!" That confidence isn't enough though. I need a good dose of reality.

"How do I market myself within the confines of all the ethical lawyer advertising rules? How do I network? I up my overhead, adding in, for the first time since I began the firm, a marketing budget. I begin to make a list of goals, starting with networking. Then I itemize out the baby steps to get to where I want to go. The honest truth. I will be in the workforce and have two jobs for the next six months to a year if I do not take out a small business loan. I can't grow as much when I am not doing my own work full time. Which means, two full time jobs."

I sit back, put on my cowgirl hat, and kick my feet up on my desk. "Well, cowgirl.." I do my best John Wayne which sounds distinctly like Audrey Hepburn instead, "your on the horse, you better learn to ride it." I chew on my pen like it is hay. My denim skirt and white tank crumple. I feel pretty. It makes me feel better to feel pretty when I feel overwhelmed. I stare out the window. This has quite possibly been the most important thing I have ever learned as an attorney. I learned it from a mentor at the prosecutors office during law school. It is a great way to stop the overwhelming feeling of possibly being in over your head. You just turn your chair, prop up your feet, stare out the window, and eventually relax and float.

I think of the people I knew from my past life in the arts. I think of the struggling dancers. The struggle before that "big break" comes. They tend bar, they wait tables, they work in retail shops, the lucky ones get jobs teaching dance. They work twenty four hour days coming into rehearsal after a full night of cooking in kitchens. I feel like that. I feel like I am waiting on a big break. It takes about thirty minutes of blank staring before I find my peace again from the small business panic.

"How do I overcome this plateau of business? How do I make this puppy grow? What do I do while it is growing? I don't have a dual income. I have no husband. No second means of support, no life savings like many people in my situation do. This is a reckless venture. I realize that, but just because something is completely reckless doesn't mean it won't work at all. Imagine if any great entrepreneur took that attitude! We would be nowhere. Look how far this business has come even within the last year! This time last year I was doing a pro bono traffic ticket for a friend. Yes, that is right one friend, one traffic ticket. In November, I had saved enough from contract work that I was able to start a business. Now I have a very thick file of clients, some of whom have adopted me as their personal attorney, and keep coming back with cases ranging from traffic tickets to small business structuring to divorce and felonies and everything in between. It is crucial it grows, not just for me, but for these people in this file. I am no longer in this by myself. I just have to have bread and water while I am waiting." It is a challenge. I think harder.

"I can keep working two jobs for as long as humanly possible. I can try doing independent contract attorney work for very busy attorneys. In fact, contracting might be great, I could learn a little more, meet people, and get moving. I have to meet attorneys. Where do you meet other attorneys? Bar events. They cost money." I add it in to my overhead. "More overhead means more contract work. I am going to have more bills to pay. All of a sudden, I have an inspired moment. My dad has almost always worked two jobs. The thought creeps sneakily into my head. It is not the voice of my mother laying on caring and motherly guilt about becoming financially independent, but this comes from a source of inspiration from somewhere deep within. Something from an example my father has set. Something he never said a word about. If dad can work two jobs for the vast majority of his life to support his family. I can work two to support myself."

I pull it together. I sit and begin to write a marketing strategy. A to do list to get to the next level of organization, an organization system that will have to pull me through as I grow a clientele larger than the one I have now. A plan for making money while I lose overhead it to a a brand new business. I look forward. I look to the present. I look back. I look up, and then, most importantly, I look down. I come up with Plan B. I pretend for a second I am my own lawyer. I am consulting myself about my business. I tell myself about the thing a small business owner doesn't want to think about, failure. It isn't that I am afraid of failure. I have faced it before. I know what it entails, and I know that there is always a Plan B. Plan B, needs to be written out, and not in that dissolving business way, but in that personal, what am I gonna do if this doesn't work way. There should always be Plan B. And Plan B is required for everything else too. A Plan B for if my marketing strategy doesn't work. A Plan B for budgeting and financial planning. I Plan B, my night.

As I am finishing up adding a layer to my business planning, reviewing my notes, checking everything twice, and realizing it will change a million times within the next six months, maybe even week, I can't help but wonder where I learned to do this. It wasn't law school. It wasn't college. It definitely wasn't high school. I might have had some inkling of it from watching my parents as I grew up, but the gravity of a Plan B, it's importance...I think hard. The Bar Exam. My greatest failure and, in turn, my greatest success. This is the lesson I learned from failure, an invaluable lesson. The intense planning, the humility, and, most importantly, the ability to fail and live. If I happen to fail again, I should have a plan of what I do to live. Because failures, whether in business or life, happen. They are not discretionary. Every person will have theirs. You will never be a success until you have felt the gravity of failure because you will not truly learn the lessons failure teaches.

And for that very reason, I feel like my chances at success are a little higher than some. It might take years to reach my goal, but glitches in the system cannot deter me from what I really want. Failure is not a freefall into a pit without a bottom, but a staircase where you trip, fall back a couple of steps and have to get up and keep climbing and watch for what made you trip last time.

Too Much to Do, Too Little Time

Mon, 28 Jul 2008 12:02:40 GMT

It is funny how these days there are so many technological advances that SHOULD be making our lives easier. They SHOULD be freeing up time to get more done. They SHOULD make more time for your family, your friends, and your life. We have every opportunity to have balance, but the vast majority, do not. In fact, these technological advances make life harder. Not because of the advancement, but because of the new American Lifestyle. I am convinced it contributes to everything from addictions to divorces to the economy.

It seems that because we SHOULD have more free time, but it seems now people expect you to work more hours. Personally, I have not had a full weekend not filled with work in over six months (exception: Vacation, so make that two weekends and on one of those I had to work). This isn't just because I am working two jobs while starting my own business. I am not the only person who I know this way. I believe standards have changed, and not necessarily for the better.

I read an article not to long ago about how America is sabotaging their workforce with long hours and no lifestyle. Going to a funeral, wedding, or needing family time is no longer considered and excuse to not work. We have blackberries and laptops and i-phones that follow us everywhere. You can be sitting at the dinner table and check your email, respond to your boss, and forget all about the chicken in front of you. The interesting part is that this type of behavior is the norm. It seems the only place you can get away from a cell phone is a movie theatre, and even then you have "silent mode" in case you want to check mid movie.

We are taking advantage of our workforce, and not in a positive manner, it has turned to taking them for granted. As a result, production is lower quality, and people are more disaffected, more disinterested in working, and looking to move from company to company in an attempt to find somewhere that appreciates lifestyle. It isn't just all about money. The problem is that coming from a booming economy to the current sucky state of affairs, means that people expect more pay AND lifestyle. Good quality isn't valued as much as "getting it done," and we have started to forget that sometimes, in order for people to be most efficient, they need time to be inefficient.

As such, I have made a very big decision for my own business. My doors will be closed on weekends. When I get to the point that I have associates, their lifestyles will be important. None of this you need to work so many hours, you can't have a long weekend to see your family, etc...That stuff is important, and I trust that anyone I hire can judge their priorities correctly. Otherwise, I won't hire them, and if my job is their first priority, I'm not sure I should. As long as the important work gets done, I don't see the problem with leaving your weekends free, taking two days off and going out to enjoy the sunshine and sleep in.

Wine Tasting and Salsa Night

Sun, 27 Jul 2008 15:13:43 GMT

"What am I supposed to wear? Do I dress for wine, or do I dress for salsa? It's my first big party with friends as a single in a long time. This is an occasion. I should wear something smashing!" I scan my closet while continuing to talk to myself. "No, not the little black dress. I am wearing that Thursday. How about...The other little black dress...or the Party girl dress! I will wear the party girl dress!." I pull out my little black fun party girl dress. I have now acquired three little black dresses, something to be proud of in my world.

I slither into my dress. Mess, with my hair awhile, and decide that tonight...I will wear a flower in it. I clip a rose from the dozen I bought for myself earlier in the day at the Farmers Market. I strategically pin it in my hair behind my right ear, leaving my hair long. I strike a pose. I then reach down to buckle my silver salsa shoes. I love my silver shoes. Three inch heels. It's amazing I can dance in them, but I guess all those years of ballet paid off for something. I twirl in my living room, find my car keys, grab a bottle of Cote du Rhone from my wine rack, and head out the door to pick up Salsa girl 1. My "date" to the party.

"What if there are cute guys there?" The thought crossed my mind once. I squish it with my next thought. "This is a fun night out with friends. Don't go ruining it with checking out cute guys." I squish that one. "Well, maybe if they are really really cute." I squish again, "Just go have fun. You aren't on the prowl for chrissakes." My internal argument continues. Salsa girl 1 comes bounding out of her apartment in her striking black salsa dress her hair pulled back in a low bun on the left side of her head leaving one strand dangling on the right side, but still sleek. "Should I have brought wine?" She asked as she crawled in the car. "No, I got it." I show her the Cote du Rhone. We head to Hip Hop's condo, and walk in the door.

"Hi!" Hip Hop runs to me and gives me a big hug, and I introduce her to Salsa Girl 1, she takes my wine and sets it on the counter. I chose the right dress. It fits with this crowd. I begin to mingle. "Hip Hop says you're a doc review attorney too. What firm?" The guy is toying with a glass of wine, rolling it between his finger and thumb. "That's one of my day jobs. Big Firm, and you?" he laughs, "Little Firm." I laugh, "I own my own little firm too." I reply with a laugh. "I hear that also." I've clearly been talked about. I grab a glass of Sangria. I check up on Salsa Girl 1. She's making the rounds too. I observe the room for a second.

Everyone is a young professional. Doctors, lawyers, and other professions that need MBAs and PHds. Three guys, on the couch watching the Cardinal's game. One girl on couch, I know "one girl," from other parties in the past. She is prowling. Obviously prowling. Salsa Girl is in the kitchen with Hip Hop and an unknown lady. I go talk in the kitchen. Nothing too exciting, I move to the living room, if for no other reason but to watch one girl prowl. I plop on the chair next to the couch and talk Cardinal's for a bit. "I am horribly upset that Jim Edmonds got married. He must have missed the memo that he was supposed to marry me." The guys all laugh. "I guess I have to settle for Molina now." The next ten minutes were spent finding a Cardinal for me to woo. We made it to Carpenter and the Mets got another run.

One girl is now sitting next to a disinterested guy, waiting for her chance to make him interested. "So how have you been? I haven't seen you since...well...October!" I am always interested to hear everyone's story. "Oh, busy, went to Spain last month. My first time out of the country!" She recounts her Spanish stories of little towns. The guy next to her becomes slightly more interested again. I mingle back toward the kitchen, grabbing a bite of hummus and some strawberries on the way. "Oh! We are missing the dance lesson! Single! You teach us the steps!" At first I refuse, saying it's easy and everyone will be able to pick it up. "No, please!" I am dragged into the living room and I teach a quick lesson of a basic salsa step. It takes about two minutes before everyone in the room can do it. Everyone heads to the salsa club.

It's clear from the second we walk in that Salsa girl 1 and I are known here. The owner walks up to us, gives us a hug, welcomes us, and we are quickly whisked onto the floor by the regulars. I spend the next two hours being passed from regular to regular dancing stopping only for an occasional water break and a little flirting. "You have a flower!" My little old salsa man exclaims as he twirls me (note: each of the salsa girls have one old man that we always dance with at the salsa club. It is of the utmost importance for young ladies to dance with very old men, they are the gatekeepers to the club.) "It's real!" He sniffs my hair and feels the petals." I laugh, "It is! How have you been?" He tells me about his last month. "How about you?" I reply, "Good." He tells me a story of when he was in the military, of his world travels during the war. The war meaning WWII about how he didn't have time for a wife because he was busy living life, and he really doesn't regret it because now as an old man he can dance with pretty ladies at salsa clubs." I laugh and look around, "Oh! That lady over there is beautiful!" I point to another dancer. He laughs with an appreciation of my wit and twirls me again. "When you and your friends come, we old guys get to dance with the most beautiful women in the club!"

A younger guy takes me for the next dance, the younger guy I know. He does landscaping on my street during the day, by night is a salsa king. From him I am handed off to another regular, and then another, and then another younger guy who I usually dance with at the club, then another, and finally I end up dancing with an engineer from Qutar. I am not entirely sure where qutar is, but he can dance pretty well. He has some good moves. I am twisting and turning and then I am getting accidently kicked in the shin. Ouch! I finish the dance, "Are you bleeding? I am so sorry!" He says. I reassure him I am fine, it is just a shiner. I walk over to the table with the partiers.

"You guys don't get let go when you walk in here!" Document Review partygoer says to me as I sit down and put my cold bottled water on my leg. Then, he gets up and goes to the bar and returns with an ice pack and puts it on my leg while holding my foot. "That is one nasty shiner. You are going to have to come up with a good story for that one. Does it hurt or not? Shiners only go one of two ways, either they hurt like hell or you can't even feel em. You got quite a little lump there on your leg." I laugh, "It's not too bad, but it hurts. The ice helps. Thanks." The rest of the night was spent talking to doc review attorney and the other partygoers and having my leg held by various people. Occasionally my old man would walk by to check on me, make sure I was ok, and let me know I was still his favorite dance partner even if I am out for dancing for the night. Doc Review attorney asks for my card, which I do not have on me, I ask for his, he doesn't have one either. He hands me his cell phone. I give him my number.

Then Salsa Girl 1 finally gets a break from the floor, "I'm worn out, let's go." She whispers in my ear, "What happened to your leg?" I giggle and whisper back, "The guy from Qutar accidently kicked me in the shin." She laughs, "He's a wild dancer! I danced with him too!" The mostly melted ice pack fell on the floor. I pick it back up, thank everyone for the evening and leave. As I limp up the stairs trying to get a peak of my inevitable bruise, Salsa girl 1 twirls around the corner to the street "What a fun night!" I smile. "It was!"

Hopeful Romance

Fri, 25 Jul 2008 03:16:51 GMT

Tonight I was horribly disappointed by Lena Horne. I love a good dose of blues and jazz from time to time. Especially on my long hard nights. It usually reminds me of a time when things were harder. I know history well enough to not fool myself. Back in the day, they had things like typewriters, long nights at the office, and World War II. So, I love me a good jazz night. The problem, tonight, I found the most annoying jazz song ever created. Only it isn't per se annoying. It has a nice catchy tune. It is happy jazz. Happy Jazz like "Baby It's Cold Outside" and "It's All Right With Me" and "High Hopes."   The name of the song, "Wives and Lovers" by Lena Horne.

Let me summarize. The entire song is about being a good wife, getting all dressed up for your husband before he comes home from work. Cleaning the house, and getting dinner ready, the table set, the candles lit, and then it's "time for love." I wish I was naive enough to hear this song and think that is what marriage was really like. Instead, I was saddened by the little happy tune of hopeful matrimonial bliss. I couldn't help but wonder how many women danced around their houses and apartments getting ready for a night with their husbands while listening to this song, cooking his favorite meal, putting on his favorite color, and a pretty dress only to find that when her husband got home he was too tired from work.

Here is a woman, going out of her way to look pretty for her husband. To make his evening this perfect picture of "romance." She made herself feel pretty. She made herself feel romantic. He was just supposed to follow suit. I can't help but wonder how many guys didn't. I have spent many a pretty night sitting at home in my own romance while a sports game blared on the television, the dog needed to be walked, or the ipod needed to be synced. I've been guilty of the same neglect when the computer took precedence, when the person calling on the phone or emailing was more important than the person sitting next to me. And I guess that is the ultimate in my heartbreak. It is the reason I am so flattered by flattery.   I have never, truly, been appreciated by any man I have ever been with. Only it isn't fair to say that goes one way. I am sure I have never really appreciated any man I have ever been with either. Well, at least not how they needed to be appreciated.

Which brings me to "the one." Which I have never believed in before tonight. After careful consideration, I think there is a "one" for most people. It is someone who appreciates the things you do, and who you appreciate in return in a way you both understand. You understand each other's language of appreciation and communicate with it. Which means you have to have shared experiences. Not necessarily with each other.   Your values must parallel at least to a point where you are able to compromise and without similar experiences in life, they won't.

Realistically, maybe this says something about where I am at right now, about how closed my heart really is to love right now. Maybe it says something about the fact that I do not hold the idealistic dream of being married like I did when I was a little girl. Maybe my reality, has shown me that love is just more complicated and real, than idealistic and romantic. Maybe, just throwing this out there, I am no hopeless romantic.   Oh, but I try. I am just no good at being hopelessly romantic. I am much better at being hopefully romantic.   I wish I could find someone who was also hopefully romantic, but it seems everyone is trained to be hopeless romantics. It is difficult being the hopeful one climbing in the world of hopeless ones falling.

Michael the Snoop

Wed, 23 Jul 2008 13:21:40 GMT

For those of you I do not know, I am Michael, Single's aloe plant. It is nice to meet all of you. I have missed my writing, but now that Single works all the time, I have free reign over her computer while she is gone to work. I miss my window. I've been really moping about her new "eurochic" apartment since November.

Single moved me into her office this past weekend. It is WAY more interesting than my window. I read her case files when she isn't around. I mean, who am I gonna tell? I am an aloe plant. I also go through her law books. I find them enthralling. I got ahold of a big thick one a couple weeks ago about being a Guardian Ad Litem. It's the person who represents the kid in divorces. My FAVORITE are the criminal law journals. Single loves criminal law. There are all kinds of fun exciting stories in them. Murders, thefts, kidnappings, all the makings of a classic movie, in one little magazine. Then last week Single started a new research file. I had seen her do this as a law clerk or early on in her career, but not lately. I had heard her talking to Salsa Girl 1 about getting more into a new area of law, I wondered what it was...I made a bet with Mischa (my sister), I bet it was personal injury and she was going to end up on a TV commercial somewhere. Mischa thought it would be plant law until I informed Mischa that Single was a lawyer. Humans call plant lawyers Biologists and Horticulturalists. We dived for the folder as soon as Single left for work.

She has written in bold print, "Wild West." I was hearkened to memories of John Wayne, holsters, horseback, tumbleweed, and saloon girls. Everyone knows there were no laws in the Wild West. "HOME HOME ON THE RANGE..WHERE THE BEER AND THE ANTELOPE..." Mischa interupted me "It's deer not beer. Have you had too much miracle feed today it's only 8am?" I opened the file. It was all about the most techy ridiculously nerdy area of law I can think of next to that patent law stuff that Salsa girl 1 always talks about, Internet and Technology law. The entire thing is about internet criminal law. Stacks and stacks of research, laws, and articles from internet harassment to every other imaginable internet related area of law. I could spend the entire day learning the ins and outs of internet law. I could be Single's new law clerk. She wouldn't have to pay me. Just feed me from time to time.

I have sat here for years watching Single learn to design websites. Learning the inside track of the internet. Learning about writing on this blog, and not writing on this blog. I really should have seen it coming. Internet law. What a geek! I love her, but what a geek! I think surely she has a case, I go rummaging through her files. I can't find one. If she has one, it must be with her. Why would she VOLUNTARILY, be learning this stuff? Oh, because she likes it. She comes home each night, puts on Pandora.com, and just reads for literally hours, and then types a motion, and then reads some more. I'm proud of her. She found something she likes, even if it is a little nerdy.

The Dream

Tue, 22 Jul 2008 01:27:46 GMT

I am not myself, but I am. I am floating high in the air, soaring over my beloved ocean, free like a bird. No care. Just me and this place. My heaven. My soul soars alone, not restricted by my body. I can feel the ocean breeze. I can feel the sand, but not between my toes. No, a vivid memory of being in the flesh. So vivid, I can actually feel the sand. I float gently to sit on the beach and watch the waves. I write even though I have no hands. My thoughts appear on the paper in front of me. I write an entire novel while sitting on the beach. A novel that will be famed. A novel about humanity and the ways of the world. Observations. I am a scholar, an author, and free from the concerns of money. I write because I love writing. I don't need money. I have thought. Thought is more powerful than money.

The only important thing in this dream world is fulfilling my purpose. A purpose set by God. Maybe if I fumble around enough I will make the impact I am intended to make. Maybe if I walk aimlessly through life I will fall into my path. Maybe I will find my purpose. But first I have to believe I have one. Just out of curiosity I rise above the beach and think hard about making the waves rise. I wonder if my thoughts are enough to make them move. Can I move an entire ocean? The waves grow tall, but still crash gently on the shore. A gecko runs past me in the sand. The sun is rising. I inhale. Sweet air. I float gently back to hovering just high enough on the beach.

I feel a presence beside me. It is God. "It is beautiful!" He thinks in my direction. I hear him. I hear him as if his thoughts were my own. "It is my favorite place, at my favorite time of day! I am doing my favorite thing!" I exclaim through my own thought. "It is yours. You created it." God tells me. We sit in silence watching the waves. God sits silently by my side. Ever present to my thoughts and thoughtless moments. I have nothing to hide. No reason to feel ashamed. No mistakes. No fears. No work awaiting me. Just freedom to take in the beauty that surrounds me. I soar up high in the air and surf along the waves bouncing with each crest. Then I settle back beside God on the beach. I have never been so happy. Genuine happiness.

The only thing that matters is being with God. Having him beside me and loving him, the world, and all its beauty. I smile. I smile so brightly that I glow. Only without a body, I am just a glow. "It will all be alright back on Earth. You are on your path. It is just a rather fun twisty turny path." God speaks and reminds me I am a human. I am a human somewhere far below heaven. Sleeping right now in my bed. "How many paths do I have to walk?" I ask God. "As many as you need." I laugh at his comment. "How many is that?" God replies in a constant patient tone, "As many as you need."

"What if I get tired of walking?" I think of myself sleeping below. I see all my everyday worries as clear as if I were an outside observer that knew every detail of my life. "Then you fly."

My alarm rings. 4am. I drudgingly roll over to notice my throat is hurting. My body is tired, but can't sleep. My agenda begins to run through my head. My to do list a mile long. Update business finances. Update files. Type motion. Go to work. Get car fixed. I crawl from my bed. It is doing no good to stay there. I walk into my office, and stare out the windows into the early dawn. The sun rising. An eery light blue rising in the sky. I have a flashback to my heaven. "How do I fly?" It was my first thought. "How do I fly?" I repeat it, as if I am going to get an answer. I hear nothing. My heart leaps a little in my chest. I find myself panicked. I think again about my heaven. My heart begins to slow.

I shut my eyes, and fall asleep in my office chair, legs propped up on the desk, watching the sun rise. I am back in my dream world, my heaven. "Why didn't you give that woman on the street your watermelon the other day?" God asks not judging, just saying. "I could see your spirit wanted you to give her that little bit of lunch. She was hungry you know. You might not have had money, but you did have food. You still have things to learn. Go learn them. Go learn to listen to yourself, to me, and then you will learn to fly. Learn what is important."

I don't wake up again until my alarm is blaring in the other room. Screaming at me to go to work. To indulge in my humanity. I feel my sore throat. A pain that is distinctly human. I feel exhausted even though I have just slept. I am crying. I have been crying in my sleep. My first thought of the day is "How do I learn to fly?" I recognize it's oddness while walking to my bed. My feet sting. They had fallen asleep. I lie back down in my bed. I turn over, wrap my blanket around my cold shoulders and pull it over one ear like my mother used to do when I was a child. I stop crying. I think about the lady on the street. The one I wanted to give my watermelon to. I should have. I made a mistake. I vow to give her something if another chance comes. I pray for a second chance.

I am not myself, but I am. I am walking steadily toward my office my mind racing with things to do and worries to worry. My reality. I avoid making eye contact with people for fear that they will judge me. The early morning breeze blows through the high rise buildings and lifts my hair. I have a vague fleeting memory of the world of my spirit. I need money. I need food. I am needed by others. Other people, on other journeys that intersect with my own. All of us learning the same thing. How to fly.

Book List: My Bookshelf

Fri, 25 Jul 2008 04:08:46 GMT

My Bookshelf

Jeremy Blachman: Anonymous Lawyer
Fun, from a fellow blogger!
Betsy Israel: Bachelor Girl
For Single's Everywhere! A history of singlehood.
Beth Moore: Breaking Free
My Bible Study
John Burnham Schwartz: Claire Marvel
All I remember is that I loved this novel.
Elizabeth Gilbert: Eat Pray Love
Inspiring, and healing.
JK Rowling: Harry Potter
Need i say more.
Charlotte Brontë: Jane Eyre
My favorite since Jr. High.
Louisa May Alcott: Little Women
A favorite since grade school.
Jane Austen: Pride and Prejudice
Ahh..Austen
Ceri Marsh: The Fabulous Girls Guide to Decorum
A must etiquette book.
Caitlin Friedman: The Girl's Guide to Being a Boss (Without Being a Bitch): Valuable Lessons, Smart Suggestions, and True Stories for Succeeding a
Oh, read the title.
Delphine Hirsh: the Girls Guide to surviving a Breakup
The best breakup book ever!
Jennifer Musselman: The Hip Girls Handbook
Another how to book that is worth your cash.
Suze Orman: The Money Book for the Young, Fabulous & Broke
Money for women
WILLIAM MAKEPEACE THACKERAY: Vanity Fair
My favorite since high school
Linda Sparrowe: Yoga Journal
My happy moment of each month, and how I find peace.

Blog list: Happy List

Fri, 25 Jul 2008 04:00:15 GMT

Happy List

Mexican Food
Abuelo's
Godiva Chocolate
Caribbean Inspired Fish
Flowers (daisies or roses)
French Tulips
Trips to the Caribbean
Blue Oceans, Fish, Seashells, Saltwater
Independent Films
The Ballet
Football Games
Artwork
Jazz/Blues Music
Nice Wine
My Family
Cooking
Listening to Music
Getting Control of the Remote Control
Winning
Beautiful Mornings
Springtime Smells
Space and Sunlight
My aloe plant named Michael

Custom List: Fave Blogs

Fri, 25 Jul 2008 03:59:56 GMT

Fave Blogs

Dre's Blog
Mommy for the first time
Catholic Mom!!
She's Great! And Likes Nuns!
Anonymous Lawyer
A cynical jerk of an anonymous lawyer, but funny. Very funny.
Derrick's Site
On Becoming Single once again...
Thotman
Where I go for inspiration
Kate's Blog!
Live from Florida
Billie's Ongoing Saga
A great read!
Nate's Blog
Former Infantryman buddy o' mine writes about his experiences in Iraq and here.