Another one by David Sedaris

Those of you who read this blog regularly, know my love for David Sedaris. One of the greatest presents I ever received was his book, "Me Talk Pretty One Day". As she handed it to me, she asked, "If I buy you a book do you promise to read it?" I'm standing there thinking, "Is this a trick question? Is she serious? Does she really think I wouldn't read a book for her?" I answer quickly, "Yes. Absolutely." She bought me the book. Isn't she great? When I read the book, which she was still really shocked that I did, I remember the love creeping through my body. The wit, the humor, the openness and honesty. What a great book.

David recently did a piece for The New Yorker. You should check it out. Perhaps you too will fall in love with this little man with a very humorous family, and a knack for relating anecdotes.

Law School

I told Ari that I would do a post on law school awhile back, and then a bunch of stuff came up and I kept not having the time or inclination to write about it, but I said I would and I always follow through when I tell someone I will do something. So here we go.

I was an Orientation Assistant and a prospective student tour guide. I was as honest as I possibly could be with the prospective students about to enter the noble profession that is law. Basically, I tried to talk them out of it as much as possible. It's not that law is a terrible profession or that it cannot be rewarding. It's that law can be a terrible profession and oftentimes is not rewarding. Law school, in my estimation, is something that you should not undertake on a whim because it's a ridiculous experience where you basically go to very difficult classes with a bunch of people that have reverted to high school level social interaction. Many marriages and relationships end during law school, and it will, generally, completely change your way of thinking and dealing with the world and information.

You should also not go to law school for money. Lots of people finish law school not making any more than someone with a much less advanced degree could achieve by working during those same three years. The ones that do make lots of money are usually working enough hours to equal two full time jobs, have lots of extra student loan debt to pay off, and never really get the chance to enjoy it. I have a friend who is a general contractor for a heating and air conditioning company, and she makes far more than most attorneys I know, and leads a much more enjoyable life. I have another friend that worked as an administrative assistant at an investment company, and she made more than I did at the time. Oftentimes, the difference is that if you don't burn out, and if you are successful, you will make a lot more money after you have been practicing for 5 to 10 years.

Really, the only reason I could ever think of for going to law school is a love of law. The law school experience is different for everyone, of course. However, everyone that I knew in the top of our class, generally, worked their asses off to get there. During my first year of law school, I studied at least 8 hours per day outside of class. We had about 4 hours of classes per day. So that means I studied at least 12 hours every day. Could I have passed law school by doing less? Yes. Did I know people that did? Yes. Would I want them handling my legal affairs? Maybe. Your performance in law school does not necessarily reflect how good of an attorney you will be. I worked hard in law school because I love law. I love the intellectual aspects of law, and I genuinely felt that it was important that I study and learn what the professors were trying to teach me while I was there. I was a nerd. I was always prepared, even when I knew that I wasn't on call. I usually knew the answer to whatever the professor was asking (even though I tried not to volunteer unless necessary), and I often felt I understood the concepts and legal arguments being made better than about three quarters of the class. However, it was a tiring process and not really one that I would undertake again.

The legal practice itself is interesting. The most true statement I have heard about the practice of law is "There are all kinds of lawyers." You will find some that are less ethical than others, some that are lazy, some that are smart, some that are very personable, some that are incompetent, some that make tons of money and some that make moderate amounts, etc. There are really all different types out there, just as there are different types of doctors. A lot of attorneys are quite good at what they do and try to do the absolute best they can given time constraints and simply the nature of the profession. However, it is a sad truth that oftentimes, the less personable attorneys get more complaints. Attorneys that are completely competent in the law sometimes neglect to keep their clients fully informed, and they are more likely to get sued for malpractice than the incompetent attorney who calls their client everyday to keep them informed.

Overall, I think the decision to attend law school is an important one, and one that should not be taken lightly. For anyone that does decide to go to law school, I wish them the absolute best. It can be a tremendously rewarding experience, and the profession can really be great. Just try not to go into it with false expectations.

My Interview

I had an interview yesterday. No, it wasn't for a job in Indiana, silly. It was for Big Brothers and Big Sisters. The two things that surprised me were one, how long it was, and two, how personal they get in their interviews, with family history, and all kinds of stuff. I guess they want to see what kind of person you are in an attempt to weed out the undesirable freaks. (I really hope I am not one of those.) My interviewer was very attractive, and was all business with her slight New Jersey-ish accent, which she was surprised I noticed. It was really quite interesting.

If all goes well, and I "check-out", I will be meeting with a student after school one day per week. Yes, I do not know how this will help me meet people either. But it did help me meet a cute interviewer and perhaps I will meet people at the school. No matter what, though, I will be making a difference in someone's life, and contributing to the betterment of my community in my own small way, which will be quite satisfying.

Death Watch

I had a really rough weekend, except my weekend began on Thursday....

My mother had a very traumatic childhood, replete with abuse in all of its wondrous varieties. It is that history that helped encourage her to marry the man that would become my abusive alcohol and drug addicted father and would land the both of us in therapy, and me in odd relationships with women that I attempted to save and rescue but who really had no desire to be saved or rescued from their worlds of abuse, denial, and avoidance. To all the women I loved in my adolescence, rest assured you were one of these women. John Maher's song, "Daughters" has become my mantra.

Therapy helped me realize so much about myself and my own limitations, and how important openness and truth are. I was lucky to start therapy young, but my mother was forced to begin much later in life before being treated for advanced Hodgkins disease (advanced to the point where they could not believe she was still walking and believed her to be beyond hope for a cure). When they began her treatment, they insisted she see a psychologist, as they were about to give her stronger treatments than any human had been exposed to before, they felt that it would be an exceptionally traumatic experience.

I often listen to stories of family and happiness and somehow these two concepts interlinking with one another seem quite foreign in my head, and at times in practice. I know few families that are altogether wonderful. Generally, the people that tell me how wonderful they think their family is find it easier to say that than to confront everything weird about it. That's not to say that their families are not special or good, but this simple description somehow avoids addressing all the little idiosyncrasies of the people in it. In most cases, families are a little weird or odd. It encourages me greatly when the person I am speaking with can admit that their family is a little ... off. I do not believe in the picture postcard families. I'm sure they exist, but they seem to me to be a little like Big Foot, I know that they could exist, I am just rather skeptical. So when someone tries to tell me how wonderful and great their family is, I get nervous because I feel it must either be denial or truth, neither one of which am I exactly sure I will know how to handle, as though Charlize Theron walked up to me and confessed her undying love for me.

When my mother is victimized in the course of her life, it can be really difficult for her to deal with. Not necessarily small insignificant things, but more particularly injustices. Most recently, my mother was teaching at a school where she was awarded a large budget, was able to garner large private grants, received spectacular classroom reviews, and was bettering students' lives. This was cut short by a vice principal that wanted her to give a student a better mark. He said she just did not understand Mexicans and that this student should receive a better mark. She wouldn't give him one. The vice principal wrote her up for not teaching well. She contested this on the grounds that he had never observed her classroom - in fact at this point no one had, which violated Florida law. Suddenly, evaluators appeared to assess her classroom, and she received excellent reviews.

At the end of the school year, the administration decided not to retain her. She began looking for new jobs, and driving throughout the state for various interviews. However, for some reason she simply was not getting offers. The mystery was dispelled when it was confided to her that her former principal was giving her a bad reference. Despite having great things in writing from the man, his oral recommendation, or lack thereof, was leaving her unemployable and depressed. (In Florida the former principal must be called as a reference.) Somehow she no longer had any control over her life again. She was made powerless by another man.

Thursday, my best friend called me from Germany, very worried and scared about my mother and feeling she might do something "drastic". He wanted me to call her. He wanted me to fix her. He wanted me to do something dammit, and there was really nothing I could do. I tried to call her but she could barely talk to me. Miserable, depressed, barely able to speak, hanging up the phone oftentimes, and really in a dark place where it seemed to her that living and life were simply chores, like dishes, that really should be done by someone else. I was at a loss because I honestly had no idea what the outcome would be. She would get sad or depressed in the past, but this time I had to agree with my friend, this was much worse than ever before. I had no idea what would happen, and I really had no idea what to do about it. Depression does not lend itself to comforting or consoling. I learned this when I dated a girl that became clinically depressed. The more you try to help, the more likely they are to snap back at you to get you the hell away from them. It's an odd and difficult thing to understand, and not something people generally talk about in mixed company. I would offer a better explanation, but I am no psychologist, and I cannot really explain, in rational terms, irrational desires.

Fortunately, the darkness broke and the sun seems to be shining, if only partly, in her life again, and things are moving forward. The thing I do not know is how I would ever "watch" all of that again. I really hope she is able to work through whatever still lingers in her mind that makes this happen because I know she has a lot to offer and it is never really as bad as it seems.

The Apartment of Death

I was in a dead person's apartment today.

I have never really had to deal with death in my life. The only person really close to me that ever died was my godmother. I have only ever been to two wakes, and I don't think I have ever attended a funeral. I had friends in high school that died, which was always very weird, but I never felt close enough to them to actually attend their funeral. However, working in the field of estate planning and probate, I deal with death in other people's lives quite a bit, and sometimes it affects my life more than others.

Recently, we had a client die, and the partner of the firm was named as his personal representative (or executor). Once we had gone to court and filed the necessary documents to "open the estate", we had to travel to his home (an apartment in a retirement community) and go through his belongings trying to find all of his financial information, important papers, remove perishable foods, find his wallet (which the partner told me would likely already be cleaned out of cash - and it was), and the like.

It was such an odd sensation for me to be going through someone else's personal belongings: photos, nick knacks, etc. Seeing pictures of loved ones and memories, and items that were clearly important to him at one point in his life. His altar to his deceased wife, who he clearly was still in love with even after her death, and his continuing love for Oreo cookies (of the double stuff variety). I felt like an intruder. Like I had walked in on a scene I was not supposed to disturb, and yet, I knew I was doing the right thing, and what needed to be done. There are deadlines, and things must happen within certain time frames.

I was reminded again, as I went through this gentleman's belongings that memories of career successes are not the ones that travel with us into our old age. The items that he seemed to treasure most were memories of family and friends, and the good times they shared. You cannot grow old with your letter openers, file cabinets, and swivel chairs. They will not laugh at your jokes or share in your memories, and they will offer you no comfort in your years of twilight. For those who rank their careers above all else this may not be the most heartening news to hear, but it is likely something that should be said and considered.

The Daily Show

I love the Daily Show. I know this may make you think that I am a liberal bastard, but I'm really not. I hate Bush - the political figure, not the anatomical feature. (Incidentally, has anyone ever noticed that Bush is paired with Dick? I just find this incredibly amusing and ironic.) I love McCain. I loved Clinton, even though there were so many reasons not to, and I hated Gore. On some issues, I come out incredibly conservative, and on others, I'm a complete liberal. I never really have been able to do the whole conformity thing. In college, I wouldn't join a fraternity because I never wanted to have to socialize with people I wouldn't have socialized with otherwise. I feel the same way often about political parties. I cannot join either one because I feel like it comes with a whole additional ball of wax with people feeling betrayed if you vote against what the party wishes. Give me a break.

That being said, it is my humble opinion that The Daily Show, with Jon Stewart, is one of the best programs on TV, presently. Last week, however, they moved to a new studio with a new set and it is driving me bonkers. Fortunately, I found out today while reading boinboing that I am not alone in my distaste for this new scenery. Someone even started a blog about it, and it references an artilcle from Slate Magazine giving a negative critique of the new set.

My Insignificant Weekend

Dinner was consumed as my desire to make friends was discussed, and suggestions were made. I know that I need a hobby or something social that would allow me to meet people. I just cannot think of a hobby that I would want to take up that would allow me to meet people. When my ex-girlfriend and I were together, we were going to take up dancing. Correction: I was going to learn to dance so that I wouldn't embarrass her so much on the dance floor. However, I don't want to take dancing if I have no girlfriend with which to dance. Maybe this is a backwards approach. Perhaps I should see dancing as a way to meet that girlfriend to share a dance with.

I considered getting a part time job. Something stupid. I would want it to be at a place where there might be people my own age, like a bookstore or something. This idea received favorable support, but another friend reacted very negatively towards it. "You can't work at a bookstore. What if you saw a client there? They would think you were struggling trying to make ends meet. That's not the image you wish to project." There went that idea, and I really liked that one too.

I also considered teaching classes to paralegals, or maybe volunteering in some sort of group. I really like working with kids, so maybe I could help underprivileged youth. Granted, the youth won't be my own age, but perhaps the other volunteers would be. I would first have to find such an organization. Teaching paralegals would be interesting I'm sure, but it would also be very time consuming, and would involve creating lesson plans and writing and grading exams. Teaching kids how to read or do math is easy. Teaching a room full of paralegals complicated aspects of law is not as easy.

This weekend was rather uneventful. I saw "The Wedding Crashers". What a fun movie. There's a hobby I could take up. I got some shopping done, including picking up a copy of the new Harry Potter book. However, as I had not finished David Sedaris' new book yet, I had to take some time and complete that before I could embark on the next chapter in the epic adventure that is Harry Potter. I also spoke with some of my friends, and listened to the drama of their lives.

Can I Quote You on That?

I was recently asked to do an interview. I hate interviews. I really hate them, but I like the person that asked me and it would help them so I said yes. I used to like interviews ... or I liked the idea of them until I had been interviewed a few times, and then I stopped liking them. It seemed that no matter what I said during the interview, it came off wrong when it was in sound-byte form. The last interview I gave was after a kid committed suicide at our campus.

I was stranded underneath an overhang waiting for the rain to subside, and there was a reporter there filming her story. We started talking. She seemed nice enough, and wanted me to say something - discuss the things that may cause someone to become depressed while at school. I discussed the stresses of school, and life and all of the rest and tried to give an empathetic take on the situation. Later that night, my friend found me.

"Justin, oh my God. That guy's parents must hate you right now."
"What?"
"The interview."
"What interview?"
"You were just on television regarding the guy that killed himself. You said 'It happens.'"
"What!?"
"I think we should get you a T-shirt that says 'UM, where IT happens'."
"But I said a lot when I was interviewed! I didn't say that! I didn't mean that!"

I felt terrible. Here I had tried to do a nice thing, and a decent thing and I had been sound-byted into an unsympathetic bastard. From that day on, I stopped doing interviews, until this one. Now that I have done it, I really worry what I will come off sounding like - what I will be sound-byted into. I hope the person that asked me to help won't end up regretting it.

Job History

Fortunately, I was quickly offered a new job in Coral Gables, Florida. After having spent eight years of my life there studying, I really did not want to go back. I do not like the Miami atmosphere. I find it too superficial, dirty, congested, and annoying. However, the job was there, and I definitely needed a job. The firm had been looking for someone with three or four years experience, but they liked me and decided to give me a chance. They started me on a temporary basis - try me for thirty days, if you don't like me you can return me ... sort of deal. Within a week or two they were impressed enough to hire me.

There were some minor problems with that job. Some of the problems I was not even aware of until after I left the firm, and had a chance to learn more. However, overall, I think it was a great firm for me to learn at. The problem was that I was not really a good fit for what they needed. They needed someone they did not have to train (someone with three to four years experience) and I only really ever got along with one of the partners (in a two partner firm). The partner I did get along with was really cool, and a lot of fun, but the other partner - from what I am told - never got along with a male associate at the firm. After about eight or nine months I parted ways with the firm. They confessed that they really lacked the time to train me, and I was miserable there. The partner I liked, who I worked with most of the time did tell me I was one of the smartest people he had ever met and thought I was advanced beyond my years in the practice of law. I never knew how sincere he was in this assessment until I heard him give a reference for me over the speaker phone at my next firm - as my stomach was in knots in fear.

I remained unemployed for months. Praying I would find a way to afford my rent and find a way to eat. It was very disconcerting. See you have to understand, I finished in the top of my class in law school. I was on law review, I was a teaching assistant, I had scholarships and was awarded fellowships. I was accepted to the two top tax programs in the country, and performed quite well there as well. However, the market was just plain terrible. First there was 9/11 and then there was Enron and Worldcom. The demise of Arthur Anderson had flooded the market with experienced tax professionals. Finally, I found a job in Naples. (It was at this interview that the partner I used to work for gave me the great reference on the speaker phone as I held my breath.) Unfortunately, this firm was almost as bad as the one in Tampa. While I was there, he went through three other associates. One quit within two weeks of his arrival. It really was that bad. The attorney that ran the firm tried to do too much, and he simply was not qualified for all the areas in which he practiced. There were so many mistakes made in that firm, and he would never listen to anyone else about how to handle matters. I feel really bad for many of his clients.

My girlfriend, at the time, had taken a job promotion and was moving anyway, and I wanted to be near her, and my job in Naples was terrible, and I had been advised by the Florida Bar, yet again, to get out and get out soon. So despite my $12,000 raise and large bonus, I left for my present job, with a pay cut, in Boca Raton (again that same partner gave me an amazing reference). I was really nervous when I took this job because it was another small firm and I had been burned so many times before - ending up with absolutely terrible jobs. The last thing I wanted was to arrive here, only to experience more of the same.

Fortunately, while I lost my girlfriend, and have few friends to speak of in this city, I really did wind up at great firm.

Hodge Podge

I'm not bothered when someone messes up with the complicated grammatical rules, like the difference between "awhile", which is an adverb and "a while", which is used when "while" is an object. It's when people get the simple rules, the ones that you were taught in grade school, wrong. For example, "cannot" is one word; there are three different varieties of the word "to" - two (the number), too (indicating excess or in addition; also), and to (the preposition); and, quiet and quite are two entirely different words with two entirely different meanings.

The little things are the ones that just drive me insane, but what bothers me even more is when it is not a one time occurrence. It is not like the person misspelled it once, oops, whatever. They actually consistently get it wrong, and show no signs of ever improving. It just boggles my mind. How do these people hold a steady job? They have college degrees? What institution possibly granted them the degree and can I petition to have it revoked? Alright, so it's not that bad, but the more I see of it, the more it just bugs the bejeebers out of me. So much so that I end up ranting about it on my own blog. Sad.

Moving on to a much more ... uplifting subject, I learned something about Flickr yesterday from reading Chris' blog. Apparently, if you search through Flickr correctly you can find all sorts of exceptionally naughty pictures. Not only that, people have created Websites devoted to finding and hosting just these types of pictures! For example, "flickrbooty, chicksnbreasts, and flickrchicks. I was astounded. I had thought Flickr's only real purpose was so that I could scope out beautiful scarlet haired female bloggers, in search of those haunting eyes and adorable freckles, but no, there's an even more exciting, if slightly unnerving, use!

My weekend lacked all excitement as Dennis the Menace ruined all my plans. It was terrible. Not only that, I didn't even get any rain after Friday, except on Saturday night. So it wasn't like I could use the rain as an excuse for the lazy weekend. I did experience the most unbearable humidity in recent memory, and watched several really good movies, including "The Astronaut's Wife" (which I thought would suck), "Pleasantville", "Monster" (it was the first movie in which I didn't think Charlize was hot), and "Fantastic 4" (of course). I also played some pool at this local little spot that a friend of mine and I discovered about a month ago. Excellent atmosphere. Overall, however, my weekend left a lot to be desired.

Series of Thoughts

I wrote this post, but realized when I was re-reading it that the paragraphs do not flow together very well. They sort of stand there as individual thoughts and ideas, all sort of hovering around the themes of relationships and love. Almost a stream of consciousness, but not quite.

"You should come visit me." Another moth lured to the flame. "You live so far away though. I would want more." I sat there patiently, flickering, as she talked us into and out of potential.

The world of blog is odd. People read about you and get to know you, or a certain extent of you, and form opinions about you. Being that women often fall for my mind, it's an area fraught with uncertainty. Everything is theoretical in the world of cyberspace. The person you meet through this medium may become, and remain evermore, a person of your dreams.

I'm hoping for a date this weekend with the woman I am convinced does not exist. The Loch Nes Monster of our times, folks - beautiful, smart, funny, great conversationalist, everything one could want. I will be shocked if it happens. Somehow, these women are always somewhere I'm not. I swear, if I lived in Texas or the Midwest, they'd be in Florida. This is extremely pessimistic of me, but will likely fade into the shadow as the flame is stoked, but at the moment, the feeling resonates within me. Florida State University has one of the greatest ratios any man could want - something around 3 women to every 1 man. It is a college guy's dream. I went to Miami, where things are different. Perhaps I have always been in the wrong place at the wrong time.

My lack of optimism or my weariness of the dance are nothing knew. Many have expressed this thought in much more poetic ways than I am here. Ella Fitzgerald sang, "Turn off that charm; I'm through with love for awhile; I'm through and yet, you have a fabulous smile; So if I forget; Not to find you so attractive; Remind me; That the world is full of men". Jane Monheit echoed, "I'm through with love I'll never fall again; Said adieu, to love, don't ever call again; For I must have you or no one; And so I'm through with love". Finally, Billy Joel and Ray Charles threw their gloss on it, "As for woman; They don't last with just one man; But baby grand; Will stand by me". Clearly, I am not the only person to ever just want to hang the whole thing and say to hell with it all, I will become asexual and enjoy the company of other like minded amoebas. I, obviously, would be joining truly good company.

I have been reading some classic Mark Twain, as of late. I grew up loving Mark Twain. I think I wrote a biography, or did a project of some kind on the man, every year I was in junior high and high school. Reading him reminds me that some of the greatest minds and artists of our times had some really rough days. Losing his wife and children to disease. I cannot even imagine the loss he felt. I can barely imagine finding a wife, let alone losing her and our children. It is people like him that make me feel like a wimp. Bless his heart.

My best friend in college told me one night, "Love is pain." I stared at her. It was not a fanciful vision of love or a thought of how love solves everything. It was, in her estimation, an honest analysis. She was not trying to say that pain is the only thing love is, but was being honest in her recognition of the fact that in order to love, you will likely experience pain, among other things, along the way. I really respect that type of honesty.

*Published at the request of Kiki*

Out of Context

"Are you going to come?" "That thing is huge." "The first thing we do, let's kill all the lawyers."

All of the foregoing are statements that, when taken out of context or the moment, can easily be misinterpreted or misperceived. The latter comes from Henry VI, Part II, Act IV, Scene 2. It is spoken by an anarchist that is discussing the necessary steps that any tyrant must take to destroy freedom. The idea Shakespeare was conveying was that so long as there were lawyers, people who knew and understood the law and recognized what the tyrant was trying to accomplish, freedom would be preserved. Hence, while the quote is often cited as a derogatory comment towards lawyers, it is actually paying homage to the profession.

I find the creation of this type of confusion is even easier with email. Michael Eisner stated at a commencement address he gave at Berkeley years ago that email was one of the largest dangers facing our future. For while it is a very efficient way to communicate, it has many hazards. For example, the angry letter that you write the night before, will likely not be able to be torn up the next morning. The mighty send button has been pressed and the bytes are floating through cyber space, landing on a hard drive somewhere.

Adding to the confusion is email's complete inability to convey emotions. I had a girlfriend that asked me to never email her anything important. She explained, "you come across as cold and mean, and I know that's not how you are. However, I can't read your emotion, inflection, and mannerisms into the text. So I end up getting hurt and angry, even though I know if we had spoken, I wouldn't feel any of those things."

In law school, my best friend and I would email while we studied. We were both sarcastic and witty people. However, we knew this about each other. If you read our emails out of context, not knowing us or the type of people we were, you might think several things about us, depending on which ones you read. You might think we were fighting; you might think we were dating; you might think we were friends that quite simply could not study without emailing. (The bombs going off in London today remind me of her, as her boyfriend works over there, and so I will be very concerned about them both until I hear from her.)

I realized that this habit I had in law school, has carried over to my professional life. Email is my form of communication, oftentimes, while I am at work. It is just easier for me to type out a message than carry on a full conversation because I can compose it as my day goes, or write a short note while I think about the document I am drafting or whatever. However, I learned last night that this can be a dangerous pasttime in some cases because the people receiving my short quips are not hearing the sarcasm, are not catching the dumb jokes, or sensing that this is simply silly banter. In short, people are getting hurt, when I was only trying to make them laugh. I have to be more careful about who I email.

Pals

I keep thinking about moving. Moving to somewhere where I could actually afford the real estate. I would like to have a house one day. Heck, my rental payments are more than my mortgage payments would likely be if I could actually afford the down payment. I love my job though. I think I work in the greatest office I have ever worked. The pay isn't great, but it makes life so much easier when you can wake up and not dread the place that you are about to enter. I am not sure even more affordable real estate would be enough to make me abandon it. Perhaps if I simply could not afford to live here anymore, which is a possibility, or if the decision involved a significant other, I would have cause to move.

One thing that bugs me is how few friends I have in the area. A lot of the friends I have here work all the time, and others are moving away. When I lived in Naples, all my friends on the east coast of Florida would taunt me and tell me how I should move back to the east coast so that we could hang out. Now I'm back here and I never see them. I think that is the part that sucks most of all. Doing the single thing isn't so hard. It's doing the friendless single thing that sucks. It really is rather humorous too to think that I have so few friends anywhere. Through college, I couldn't go anywhere that I didn't know someone. It was my extroverted personality shining through.

It's odd because my friends often snowball. For example, when I began undergrad, I really didn't have many friends. I had a ready made girlfriend inside the first week, and a few friends (about 4 or 5). By the end of my first year, I had no girlfriend but a veritable plethora of friends. I had friends for all occasions. I had friends that would never have been friends with each other. It was great. The next year, I had an entire floor of women adopt me as their older brother, which involved lots of free massages, cookies, and advice. Oh and of course the shoulder to cry on when things went bad.

Being with so few friends in my area still throws me. I feel like a fish out of water. It is so odd for me not to have an entire list of people that I could hang out with, and it is sort of getting to the point where I ask myself, have I outgrown my community? Should I look elsewhere?

All of my friends are elsewhere, or are very busy. I have friends in Tennessee, Chicago, Germany, Punta Gorda, Jacksonville, Miami, Orlando, Boston, North Carolina, New Jersey, etc. I have no shortage of friends. I simply have a shortage of local friends, which sucks almost as much. However, I probably expect too much. Bill Murray in Meatballs said "If you make one good friend a summer, you're doing pretty well." Although I do ponder on occasion if it would not be easier for me to just go and start completely over somewhere else.