A Tale of Two Blogs

Yes, it may have actually come to this.

I started a blog long ago in a galaxy far far away. In fact, it was a Livejournal, and almost no one, except my best friend, ever read it. At the time, I was wasting away in the lovely city of Naples (*BLECH*), and needed somewhere that I could vent my frustrations and unhappiness. My friend also felt that maybe I could somehow meet other similarly situated people in my area through this medium. I only really ever wrote one post and quit. I didn't really like the whole Livejournal format and I was not really sure what the hell I wanted to write.

Many moons later, I created the blog you see today. I suddenly had lots to write about and many things to say. I also really enjoyed Blogger's format and the freedom it afforded me. Additionally, anyone could join Blogger. (I believe, at the time, you had to pay for a Livejournal account.) I instantly met people too. None of them lived near me at all, but many of them were so very cool to read and had interesting things to share. It was almost like having daily columns that you like to read in the newspaper.

This past weekend, it seems a lot of my blogging buddies had tumultuous times. There were fights with family and loved ones. One person deleted their blog entirely, another person may have ended their relationship with their partner, and yet another came close. And these are just the items I know about. I, meanwhile, spent the weekend unsuccessfully fighting a miserable cold. Perhaps I truly got off easy on this one.

I try to never make important decisions while battling a fever. As such, I have made no final decisions as to what to do with this blog. However, what I may do is start two blogs. One will be a Livejournal, as it allows me to restrict who can view it, and the other would be a regular Blogger account, which would contain some of the details of my life. Seems like a rather ridiculous measure to take on some levels. However, it may be an ideal solution. I'll know better when I can hear and speak clearly again and my head doesn't feel like it's beneath three feet of water.

I hope most everyone else had pleasant and happy weekends.

Leave of Absence

Why haven't you posted?

Well I've been thinking about this a lot, actually. In fact, while I was feeling it, Stephanie was blogging about it. I'm not really sure what got her to the same point I was, but it was really interesting to read a post that expressed almost exactly what I was feeling.

I have been seriously considering ending my blog as of late. It's nice to be out there, I guess. However, it is concerning to me that a client or a colleague would stumble upon my blog and learn all sorts of intimate details about my life. It is also concerning to me that it may offend someone I know that sees something I write here. I'm really not sure what to do. As some of you may know, this is something I've been struggling with for several months now.

Varying Viewpoints

Perspective is an interesting thing. You could take thirty eye witnesses and they might all have seen something different. They, presumably, are not lying when they relate their personal accounts of what happened. The simple truth is that seeing something with your own eyes can sometimes be deceiving. Meanwhile, a person may be utterly convinced that their version of what happened is correct and be willing to defend it until their dying breath. At the end of the day, so many of the truths we cling to come down to perception.

It is always interesting to sit back and reflect on the person that we were and what urges and vices drove us during different periods of our life. Self-assessment, like sunlight on the parts of our lives that are rarely afforded any exposure to light, can be extremely beneficial, and at times chilling. Much like a climber that reaches some sort of climax, and stops to survey the distance he has transversed. He is now intimately familiar with so many aspects of the rock face that most would not notice. Now and again you arrive at really cool points in therapy and in life where you realize that you actually are not as far off as you perhaps initially presumed you might be, and that all the work that you have been doing to date was in fact not as insignificant as a pail of water on a raging forest fire.

What is more striking is how much of our view is shaped by our own powers of assessment and our own ability to be honest with ourselves about what happened. The person that denies for thirty years that abuse ever occurred will possibly be able to carry through their entire life with an entirely different slant on what is truth and what is reality than the person that is able to surpass their own denial. The funny part is that no matter what your perspective is, no matter what path you choose in climbing your mountain, it's always right, or at least it is to you.

These past weeks have been extremely eye opening to me about so many things from my past. Some things were just more reassessments or retracings of places I have already been, and some of it has been covering entirely new ground. Because of the possibility that some of the people that my realizations relate to may one day actually read this foolish thing, and they might find what I have to say to be offensive, I feel that I cannot really write here about the specifics. What I can say is that you can look back at entire segments of your life with a new found understanding as to what the hell you were doing. Of course your new perspective could be totally wrong, but when it makes so many parts of your life line up and make sense, you begin to trust that you have in fact found that missing piece to the puzzle.

Notes

When I stop loving jazz, I know something is wrong in my life. When the smooth sounds of Duke, Armstrong, and Marsalis do not provide relief, and Coltrane, Corea, and Davis only bring discomfort, I know things have gotten pretty bad. If the crooning of Harry, Ella, and Jane fail to placate and satiate my desires, it is indeed bleak. (Ok, it's really not that bad at all, and I'm just being dramatic, but it adds to the effect.)

I spent much of my youth abhorring jazz, and confining my music selections to the likes of Beethoven, Mozart, Chopin, Vivaldi, Brahms, Bach, etc. Jazz was something my mother would force me to listen to, often to lull me to sleep. I never understood what happiness or pleasure she derived from this odd musical form. The only jazz I liked was swing (and it's still my favorite). The rest was all a waste. Fortunately, the musicians and record industry did not listen to my admonishments, and continued to plug away for all those weird people out there that still liked this crazy thing we call jazz.

Music, in all of its forms, is such an interesting art form, and one to which I happily devoted a substantial portion of my youth. It has the power to influence moods and set the tone for an event, a drive, or an evening. However, one's mood can also effect the music that is selected. For example, I had a friend in school who would listen to Sarah McLaughlin when she was feeling sad. Others might play the theme to Rocky, or some other motivational type of music when they feel defeated. Irrespective of taste, the average person is likely to have more interaction with this art form than any other.

There are certain times in my life where particular musicians, songs, or styles simply cannot touch me. Times where I need to stay away from them because I'm not feeling it. The songs are not lifting me and the notes are not touching me. Fortunately, these times are short lived, and I always end up ... singin' with a swing.

Weekend Called on Account of Rain

The best part of my weekend was Friday night when I was at my friend's house. We started going through her volumes of pictures. Eventually, we got her yearbooks out, which she evidently annotates. I'd never seen (or created) an annotated yearbook, with "BFF" and "GFF" and markings as to who was who throughout a yearbook. Maybe this is because I am a boy. I have to say, however, that this adds so much to a yearbook after years. Even your friends who never attended your school can have fun piecing it all together. At one point, I asked my friend who this one girl in her yearbook was and she got all upset. Evidently, this was the girl that had been her best friend in high school, but who had destroyed that bond by fucking her boyfriend. Good times.

Eventually, more people showed up. The cast of characters included a young woman with huge breast impants and very low cut dress. I was warned going in - "Don't stare at her breasts." I tried to explain that it wouldn't be a problem, as I'm used to women with fake everything - I did live in Miami. "You don't understand. You will try not to look, but you cannot help it. I can't even help it and I'm a girl." She was right. The funny part was that they weren't even that great, but you just couldn't help it because they were almost falling out of the dress. You literally felt that if she turned the wrong way, they could spill out. She had even asked her fiancee as they left their house, "Is my nipple hanging out?"

I ended up passing out by about 11:30, and my friends kept drinking until 2. I just can't drink the way I used to anymore. There go my dreams of alcoholism.

I was supposed to go out on a yacht in Naples with another friend on Saturday, but as soon as I got to Naples, it started to pour. So I went home that night, spending some of my leftover weekend reading some more of Augusten Burrough's Running with Scissors. Wow. I don't think my childhood was anywhere near as messed up as his. I still cannot see the humor in most of his tales. They seem so depressing. Perhaps if they were fictional they could be charterised as funny, but as soon as I think of the fact that these things really happened to someone, it just boggles my mind.

I hope your weekend was drier than mine.

Tic Tock

One of my favorite scenes is from My Cousin Vinny.

Mona Lisa: Well I hate to bring it up because I know you've got enough pressure on you already. But, we agreed to get married as soon as you won your first case. Meanwhile, ten years later, my niece, the daughter of my sister is getting married. My biological clock is ticking like this and the way this case is going, I ain't never getting married.

Vinny: Lisa, I don't need this. I swear to God, I do not need this right now, okay? I've got a judge that's just aching to throw me in jail. An idiot who wants to fight me for two hundred dollars. Slaughtered pigs. Giant loud whistles. I ain't slept in five days. I got no money, a dress code problem, and a little murder case which, in the balance, holds the lives of two innocent kids. Not to mention your biological clock - my career, your life, our marriage, and let me see, what else can we pile on? Is there any more shit we can pile on to the to of the outcome of this case? Is it possible?

Mona Lisa: Maybe it was a bad time to bring it up.

Ever since college, every woman I have met has seemed to have some sort of "biological clock" issue; some desire to mate, have children and settle down before it is "too late". For some of these women this desire to procreate is the sole driving force behind them finding a man and getting married, not even caring who the man is at the end of the day so long as everything is in working order. However, for the life of me, I have never really understood this. In fact, not many men I know do. Perhaps it's because of the way we are raised, or maybe it's brain chemistry. One of my friends has suggested that it is because men can reproduce well into our sixties, and so it doesn't matter as much to us. (There's a quote to the effect in When Harry Met Sally, but it presently escapes me.)

Most men I know who are getting married or have gotten married never expressed any desire to settle down and have kids soon, before it becomes "too late". Generally, they describe marriage as something that they do or did to make her happy. It wasn't that they didn't want to get married. It's not that they do or did not love the woman that they are marrying or that they are married to. It simply was not as pressing of an issue to them as it was to her.

I went to a cocktail reception last night for estate and financial planners, and realtors. Quite a lively bunch, let me tell you. All I kept getting asked was, "So are you married?" and "Do you have any kids?" Where are all the young people in this profession? I felt like what a woman must feel when she attends a family reunion, only to be interrogated by her friends and loved ones about why she isn't married yet, and when is she going to have children.

Digging in The Dirt

It sounded like the dumbest assignment I had ever heard in my life. "I want you to make a chart or a list of every woman you have ever been involved with, and list what propelled (attracted) you to them, and then what repelled you away from them." What a ridiculous assignment. I had different reasons for liking and leaving every one of them. It would be a complete waste of my time to go ahead and list all of them like that. However, I thought the same thing when she told me I had commitment issues, and I am paying for this advice, I might as well try it.

After I was about three quarters of the way through the list, I became disturbed. There were a lot more things all of these women had in common at the end of the day than I had ever noticed. Every one of these women had commitment issues at least equal to my own. Many of them only seemed to ever have long distance boyfriends. Many had troubled relationships with their fathers. All of them seemed to have trouble expressing and showing love, and opening up to me. I was getting into relationships that were doomed to fail; still playing the unloved victim role I had learned so well from my childhood. I couldn't help feeling slightly defeated. How far had I really come on this journey of my life, and how much further did I have to go?

"We need to explore your childhood, and the pain and emotions that you experienced in it. Not just the broad strokes, but individual occurrences." I was blank. My childhood? Yeah, I had one of those ... I think. Are we supposed to be able to remember all of that? I remembered everything from high-school (just about the time I stopped seeing my father) onward rather vividly. However, I just remembered vague things about my childhood - the yelling, the beatings, the alcohol, the drugs, and all the madness that was sure to ensue. However, I remembered much of it in the abstract. Reading Augusten's description of his childhood has sounded all too familiar in certain areas.

Slowly, almost like carrying out an excavation, memories have surfaced, and have been carefully brushed off, only to reveal more memories. Scattered and fragmented is my childhood. A sea of memories and emotions that I thought were but a series of unfortunate events best left in the past, have been wreaking havoc on my present. Attracting me to other fundamentally flawed individuals, perhaps out of a subconscious recognition of their similarities to my parents.

The Week Ends. The Week Begins.

So there is some good news to report (other than the Patriots illustrious victory over the Steelers) - no one I knew from Houston died this weekend. Although, I did have my doubts about whether they could withstand that much alcohol for such an extened period of time. Fortunately, they came through like champs. Hopefully, their livers did too.

I spent the majority of my weekend reading, watching movies, and trying to get a solid handle on my life and its direction. All this while avoiding phone calls from random girls I had no desire to speak with and roasting a chicken with a delicious lemon, honey, mango, garlic paste. Quite yummy.

I saw The Corpse Bride and Flightplan. Both decent flicks, but I'm not sure I would ever watch either of them again. Maybe I just don't like Tim Buton's animated classics. It was rather disappointing to me, however, because I had such high hopes. Somewhere in the middle of The Corpse Bride I realized that I had never liked Nightmare Before Christamas either. In fact the only reason I ever thought that I liked it was because it made my ex so happy. So I would find her things with characters from the movie on them to make her smile. Her smiling made me happy. Somehow I associated my liking her smile with the movie.... Very Pavlovian of me. Did someone hear a bell?

My reading would likely not have been very entertaining to most of you. I learned about the relocation of trust situs for state income tax purposes and for governing law purposes. You think that sounds like fun? Wait until I tell you about the articles about Internal Revenue Code section 4958 and intermediate sanctions for tax exempt organizations. (I read the tax exempt articles because I'm trying to help my friend author an article on the subject.) Ok, so I'm a nerd, but I'm a fun nerd. Oh, and I have started in on two Augusten Burroughs novels. Someone named Shane, commented awhile back that if I liked David Sedaris, I should try Augusten. So far I like him. His writings haven't struck that same funny bone in me that David strikes, but he is enjoyable. I'll know better once I get farther into them.

This upcoming weekend, I am supposed to go to Naples with my friend. She says we are going out on a 50 foot yacht. I can't really say no to that. I'm really starting to think I need a digital camera just to chronicle my upcoming weekend. Wherever there is a 50 foot yacht, fun is sure to follow ... and dolphins.

Hurricane Preparedness

"Are they crazy? Do they not understand there is a fucking hurricane coming? Do I just know better because I have lived through one now?"

These were the words of my friend that went through Charley last year, after I told her of folks I know in Houston and the surrounding areas that are staying for the wet and wild fun of Rita. What many people don't know about Charley is that it was a very small Category 5 hurricane. Powerful in force, but small in circumference. The other thing that many people do not know is it was supposed to strike Tampa, 90 miles north of where it actually ended up hitting. Hurricanes often do not hit where they are predicted to make landfall. For example, Andrew was not supposed to hit South Florida.

I was in Punta Gorda a few days following Charley, and the destruction was impressive. An entire electrical system, annihilated. Buildings, signs, trees, things that had been there for years were just gone, and would not be back for a long time to come, if ever. One of my friends lost her new house on her birthday. Happy birthday. My vocal friend from last night, lost a good portion of her house. However, the destruction from Charley was not limited to the one city. 60 miles south, in Naples, there were extensive power outages as well.

A hurricane seems to be one of those things that a lot of people simply do not understand until they live through one. It is not some rough weather. It is not just a rainy and windy day. It is something that can rip apart not only buildings and structures, but families, friends, and loved ones, as well, with no conscious or regret. My friends that survived Andrew knew people that they never heard from again.

After Katrina, I thought all of this would go without saying; that it would be clear to everyone that any storm capable of wreaking havoc and destruction through at least three states is not something you simply laugh in the face of. However, from what I am hearing, I may be mistaken.
To everyone in the Houston, Texas area, I wish you the best of luck, and I advise you now to get as far away from the possible storm track of Rita as possible. Worst case scenario, you get a nice vacation out of a storm that never came.

Faceless Strangers

They sit there quietly peering into my world. At times, I feel a little unnerved by the entire concept. There are people out there reading my blog on a constant basis, and I do not know who they are. I'm not just talking about the casual surfer that happens to stop by for a gander. I'm talking about my repeaters. The people that just cannot seem to get enough of whatever drivel I seem to be spouting for the day, but who never actually leave any trace of their presence. Who are these people, and what is their profound fascination with my life?

Through a series of linking, as I followed someone else's recent path through my blog, yes I can do that, and no, it's not as exciting as it sounds, I was reminded of random commenters that sprouted out of the woodwork when I broke up with my ex. Then just as suddenly, they all disappeared, or did they? Are they there still, merely lurking in the shadows, awaiting a new opportunity to voice their profound opinion?

Lurking and shadowy figures are the types of people you were taught to avoid as a child. Growing up, one never really thinks that they will become one of those people. The type of person you would move to the other side of the street from on your way home. You do not expect to become *that* person. The one that everyone quietly whispers about after they have passed. Yet, I know there are people out there watching my blog and my life with great interest, and they have become, in my world, exactly that.

Missing Pieces

"It's never going to work."

"What are you talking about?"

"You don't have fake friends. You've never had fake friends. You're close to your friends, and you'll just wind up getting hurt if you try being friends with her. She didn't make time for you before, why would she make time for you now?"

"Humph."

"Don't get mad because you know I'm right. Now when are you coming to visit?"

That's how my conversations with my friends go, as I afford them carte blanche to say anything and everything about my life and my personal decisions. I do not always agree with what they have to say, but I always give them liberal space to run amok, as I respect their opinions. It is not always a two-way street, however. I, at times, will encounter enormous resistance to my equally straight forward advice, but sometimes that is part of friendship. Acknowledging the strengths and short comings of the person you are friends with and being willing and able to accept them.

The sheer geography that my friends cover is rather impressive. People mention a state, or sometimes a country, and I seem to know someone there or have a friend there. However, when I am forced to look closer to home, I lack those friends. My close circle of friends has migrated to bigger and better places, for bigger and better things. Some have remianed. They are around, but busy and otherwise occupied with marital strife, enormously demanding jobs, and complex relationships. It's the one thing I find lacking in the place I live, and the thing that I feel more pronounced when I am bored, with nothing to do. It's at those times that I truly consider moving somewhere that I already have friends. However, I always remember that I had no friends in Florida when I moved here, and after a few years I had more than I knew what to do with.

Maybe that is part of the problem in always demanding close and lasting friendships - you don't make as many superficial ones that you can leave mangled at the side of the road. You expect more and you'd rather have none than the ready-made type that comes out of a box and never looks as good as it did on the cover. However, the ones you do make, often end up lasting much longer.

It all started in law school:

"I've been thinking. We're really cool people."

"Ok."

"Well we do not have a lot of free time. We are very busy, and there are lots of people that would like to hang out with us. However, we should be more particular about who we hang out with. As really cool people, with limited time, we should only hang out with other cool people. We need to make a list." She wasn't kidding.

"Will I be on your list?"

"Not if you keep asking questions like that."

Busy Bee

Somehow my week has been very full, and I am already exhausted enough for it to be a Friday. I got to see my little brother yesterday, though, and that was a lot of fun. I got an email from my.... Gosh I'm not sure what she is. I guess she's like a coordinator. She emailed me a couple of days ago and told me that they had obtained an extension on complying with the new guidelines. I felt kind of bad for my little brother, though, because I'm not sure anyone really explained to him why I couldn't see him last week. In any event, we had lots of fun finishing the puzzle we had begun two weeks ago and playing Connect Four together with other various games. I even stayed an extra half-hour, until his mom showed up. He got mad at her again for coming to get him because he always ends up wanting to spend more time with me. Very cool.

Tonight I am heading over to teach another class, which will take me 'til about 10 tonight. I'll arrive home and get to bed by 11, only so that I can wake up and leave my apartment by 6:30 to get to Miami for my seminar that lasts until 3:45, and I need to be back by 6:00 for an appointment. I'm tired just thinking about it. I would have attended the seminar in a different location later next month, but this is the closest one being offered live, and I really prefer the live ones to the pre-recorded ones - especially if I have questions for the speakers.

Friday looks fairly action packed as well, with plenty of appointments during the day to keep me hopping. However, it can't be too bad, as it is a Friday, and no matter how bleak it looks, a Saturday is sure to follow.

My free time has been spent investigating the wondrous iPod nano. It looks awesome. The only bad thing that I have heard about it so far is that the company designed it with the headphone jack on the bottom of the system. Weird. I still think it looks really cool, though. Plus, it comes in black.

I've been trying to decide for weeks now between a digital camera or an iPod. I really feel that I should have one or the other. However, I can never make up my mind. I love the concept of an iPod, but I question when I would find the time to listen to it consistently. While at the same time, I long for a digital camera, but feel that none of my friends would appreciate being captured and placed on my blog in living color. Heck, I don't even use their names, to protect the innocent. My feeling is that I should probably get one or the other, though, even if just for my upcoming trips, which I *still* have not finalized!

That's about all I have time for folks. Sorry it's nothing very interesting or introspective. However, people were harassing me to post, and it is my life to date.

Swinging Single

I decided I was tired of dating this weekend. I just couldn't stomach it anymore. I couldn't deal with any more women asking me for commitment and getting jealous and clingy when I told them no. I didn't want to deal with it. I got tired of the casual flings and the meaningless physical encounters, of the zero intellect and complete void of personality, culture, and class. So I quit.

It was really quite liberating, actually. To no longer care, or have to explain yourself anymore. No longer having to invent reasons to yourself for why you are bothering to spend your time with these people at all. I don't have a lot of time, and I really do not see the point in spending the marginal amount I do have with people that I would not hang out with in everyday life. Instead, I saw my friends, played pool, went to the gym, watched football, made delectable delights, and enjoyed my life.

Saturday I summoned all my resources to make a Wellness Package for my friend. Looking through recipe books and eventually driving all around the area to locate the essential components: her favorite soup, good books, quality DVD's, a card (because without the card the person may think you're thoughtless), and a great bag on which you can emblazon the title "Bag of Wellness".

It was my project. It was finally doing something for someone that I actually care about, rather than all the meaningless people I have been sacrificing my time and energy for, and it felt good. Good to finally have someone you care about acknowledge and appreciate your efforts. That's when it clicked. That's when I was done. I need better.

Deal With It

I was speaking to someone about relationships the other day. She actually specializes in relationships and that kind of stuff. People that study human behavior and the manifestations of human emotions and impulses really intrigue me. I often wonder what more they see in the world and in people's behaviors than maybe I do - sort of the same way I might see more legal things in the world around me than she might. We ended up discussing this recurring theme I have been hearing from several women in relationships as of late - "It's not supposed to be hard." We both agreed that this is really not a realistic perspective. Relationships are not like the movies. They involve work and can be challenging in balancing the nuances of two people's lives and emotions.

It, of course, is individual; some relationships really are terrible, and should be ended. However, a lot of the relationship problems I have been seeing, as of late, stem from people that have issues that they refuse to contend with and from people that refuse to put forth any real effort in the relationship. A complete and total belief that if they just put their heads in the sand, it will be ok. After all, relationships should work like they do in the moves, conflict with total resolution within two hours. There's always the excuse, "I'll deal with it later, when there is less going on." Somehow the relationship, that at one point was extremely important to you, has taken the back seat to your career, job, friends, and the rest of your life. It's a great way of avoiding because life happens and there's always something you can find that's more important. There's also the one where you blame the other person for everything wrong with the relationship, but a relationship is two people, never just one.

Relationships are work. Deal with it. The concept is that you are with a person that you care about enough to put forth that amount of effort and energy.

My Labor (or lack thereof) Day Weekend

My Labor Day Weekend was action packed. Well, sort of.

It started out with my friend and I driving up to Orlando to celebrate another friend's 30th birthday. However, by the time we showed up, the party was over and almost everyone had gone home. We hung out for awhile and played various video games, and short clips from here. Eventually, just when I thought I couldn't keep my eyes open any longer, everyone decided it was time for bed and I collapsed from exhaustion, only to awake a few hours later, as my internal clock oftentimes has difficulty discerning weekends.

Saturday was a total white trash day. There's no other way to describe a day that starts off with your friends deciding to go play video games in the world's largest McDonald's and ends with shopping at Wal*Mart. Good times. I couldn't believe the McDonald's restaurant. It has showcases of its foods, which include pasta dishes, wraps and all sort of things that you would never expect to see at a McDonald's. Weird.

Somewhere during the course of the day, I learned that I am not allowed to volunteer with Big Brothers Big Sisters until the organization and the school board figure out whether the school board needs to perform its own independent background check on me. Apparently, some worker in a school hurt or killed a girl recently and so there are new restrictions regarding who can be allowed access onto school property. I have no problem with this, but I really wish they could have worked this out at some point during the past month, before the school year started, and before I met my little brother. I also think my Bar admissions should be sufficient, as I do not think the Bar would allow a felon to be a member.

I came back on a very late night drive, arriving home at about 2 in the morning on Sunday, and again, collapsed from exhaustion. I finally managed to wake up sometime around noon so that I could drag my ass to the gym, and get my heart working again. Had a rather routine night, I guess and eventually wound up in my own bed.

Monday is where things get somewhat remarkable. Well, remarkable for me, but likely not anyone else. It started out like any other day, I went to the gym, got some groceries, managed to easily suppress my high hopes of reading the remainder of the research that was sent to me by my friend about charitable organizations, and was wandering about my apartment when I noticed my ex was instant messaging me. This wasn't totally out of the ordinary, as we have been known to do this on occasion, as of late. All part of our attempt to enter this brave new world of friendship after romance. There has to be a pill you could take for it, maybe a mixture of amnesia, combined with some good old fashioned denial, and a side of avoidance, but until such a thing is invented, I'm left to my own devices.

In any event, she got together with a mutual friend and me for dinner. It was really cool, though. It ended up lasting about three hours for her and I because she and I both arrived excessively early, but for different reasons, and stayed after our friend had gone home. The best part about the evening was that we were having fun together again. We were joking and smiling and hugging and laughing and were happy together again, and that was probably the coolest part of the evening. We had always been such great friends and losing that had sucked a lot so I'm hopeful that we will at least eke a friendship out of this mess. However, it's early yet, and I'm sure all kinds of things could go wrong in the process, but at least it's a start, and that is something.

I also realized, as I was with her, how much I have learned about myself through therapy in the last few months that I have spent working on me. It was really interesting to approach her, me, and our interactions with a different and fresher perspective. I'm still not sure what to make of it. It felt different, but familiar.

And that was my weekend.

Where Is The Relief?

I haven't been watching any news reports about Hurricane Katrina's aftermath. It's not hard to avoid them when you have so many other things going on in your life, and Comedy Central and The Food Network to pass the time with. Besides, I had assumed that relief efforts were underway and everyone was being taken care of, just like when there's a disaster anywhere. I mean September 11th happened with no warning, and we still had organized relief efforts underway and coordinated operations happening within hours.

Last night, I was listening to NPR, and I started hearing about how terrible the situation seemed in New Orleans. However, the program I was listening to was Marketplace, and it was focusing more on the economic impact of the disaster than anything else. Later last night, I started watching Dateline. It wasn't even on purpose. I simply was too lazy to walk across the room to find my remote and change the channel.

I was so mad.

This is ridiculous. Our Congress sat on its collective hands as the knew a Category 4 storm was bearing down on our country. It had hit Florida a scant two or three days before as a Category 1 storm and had left over a million people without electricity, some for days. How could our elected officials not have believed that things were going to be worse in the areas hit by Katrina as a fully grown Category 4? Why couldn't they think like smart people would, gotten up off their asses, and gotten back to Washington so they could appropriate funding for disaster relief, and work with the President to mobilize troops and agencies to coordinate a relief effort.

Granted, there was no way to determine *exactly* what would be needed until after it had hit. However, New Orleans, in cooperation with the Army Corp of Engineers had rehearsed for a storm like this one just a year or two earlier. Besides, certain items you know will be needed, like water, food, clothing, toilet paper, shelter, etc. The barest of essentials will be needed. It's not like this is the first relief effort we have ever undertaken.

Some of you might tell me, "They can't get the supplies in." To which I respond, "Bullshit. If you can get bus loads of people out of an area, you can get bus loads of supplies into and area. Hell we can get supplies to Iraq, Afghanistan, and even our damn space station. You cannot tell me we cannot get them into New Orleans. How many days did it take them to call up the National Guard? Why?

Why are we letting the bureaucrats fight over who should and who should not have the authority? Why doesn't our Commander-in-Chief appoint someone to headup the relief effort and let him run it? Hand it off to someone that has been trained to lead and command in a disaster area - perhaps a general (Colin Powell comes to mind) who can bring some sort of order to this mess.

I wrote my Senators, voicing my outrage. I got angry, as I watched our fellow Americans being left to die from lack of food and water. Private industry were mobilizing in the days following Katrina. Companies were donating money, offering their assistance, setting up Web pages and all kinds of things. Entertainers and networks were scheduling dates for concerts to help raise money for the relief effort. However, no one in our federal government was doing anything. Why was I having to write these people, my elected officials, to get them to do their jobs?

I feel completely let down by my government. Don't forget all the places out there trying to help and accepting donations. Give if you can afford to, but even if you can't, lend your voice to your fellow Americans.

Hurricane Relief

As I have mentioned before, I love Boing Boing. As of late, they have been doing an excellent job at keeping everyone up to date on different efforts people are undertaking to assist in providing hurricane relief. I even learned that some people are trying to work with Google Earth to get image overlays of the flooding, in an effort to assist people with determining how bad the flooding is in their neighborhood. I thought that was a really novel idea.

There is also a link on Boing Boing that assists you in finding ways to help. I have outlined some below, in case you don't want to scroll through the whole post. One of the main ways of helping that seems to be emphasized is donating money. However, various volunteer opportunities can also be found.

http://www.npr.org/templates/story/story.php?storyId=4823690

this is a link to an NPR site, which lists a bunch of places where you can donate or volunteer.

http://katrinahelp.info/wiki/index.php/Main_Page

this site gives more current information about what is going on and how to help.

http://www.volunteermatch.org/volunteers/resources/hurricane.jsp

helps you find places to volunteer.

http://writerscafe.net/donations.html

a relief fund.

http://neworleans.craigslist.org/about/help/katrina_cl.html

Craig's List is helping reunite family members and friends and helping people find housing and volunteer opportunities.

The Boing Boing link at the top contains all these links and more, in case you feel the need.

Take Two

Yesterday, I went and finally met my little brother, Cody. He's a really cool kid, and he is a lot smarter than a lot of their other enrolled students, I guess. He, evidently, is also a whiz at math. So every week now, I'll go to his school and we'll hang out, talk, and play games for an hour or so. Good times.

I got spammed again, on the same subject as the last one, and by the same person. Whether the person, at the end of the day is that Chris person or someone else, I still do not know. What I do know is their ISP (unless they are masking behind someone else's). So I have been attempting to contact and report the abuse for quite some time now, but have not been having tremendous success. So I finally decided to phone the ISP today and it is now trying to determine exactly what it can do about my little spammer. If that fails, I'll call my friend to have her look up the ISP's legal counsel. She presently works at a firm where one of their projects has been legally attacking spammers, always a good friend to have around.

Today, I teach my second class. I hope it goes as well as last week's. I think the administrative aspects of teaching the class have been a little more daunting than the class itself - having to get handouts over to the school several days in advance so that they can be ready for class; getting room assignments for my class and my make-up class; parking; payroll; obtaining my materials; and all the rest of the gobbly-gook. However, I envision the class getting more complicated as we move on into the trickery areas of the subject and exams become ever more impending.

It's been awhile ...

I know folks - I haven't updated in quite awhile. I just have been absolutely swamped with work and life. I will attempt to cover the high points. ("Let me explain. No, there is too much; let me sum up.")

I obtained a second job almost by accident. I had wanted to volunteer my time and help out at a local university. They have a very respected paralegal program and had been forced to fire the attorney that had been teaching their legal research class half-way through. The terminated professor was, apparently, not the best teacher, and a lot of his students were hopelessly lost. I figured they may need extra help to catch the students up to where they should be. This somehow ended up landing me an interview for the wills, trusts, and estates professorship. Within minutes of beginning the interview, I was hired. I had my first class this week and it went quite well. That's right, I'm Professor J now. :-)

In-between handling all of the administrative stuff associated with the new job and preparing lesson plans, I also had my law firm job and social life. Plus my close friend from undergrad unexpectedly came into town last week. We went out to the beach for drinks and fun over the weekend. Our new friend, the bartender, made us the strongest long island iced teas I've had in a long time, which was very cool. A few days later we went out to enjoy some pool and cocktails and to discuss relationships. I'm not sure such delicate matters should be discussed amongst certain friends under the influence of alcohol, but I am pretty sure our friendship endured the madness that ensued.

The day my friend left town, Katrina rolled in with great pomp and circumstance. Fortunately, she turned south, and my neighborhood avoided any major storm damage. However, just 20 miles south of me, people lost their electricity, and injuries and chaos ensued. Further south, things were even worse. I feel really bad for everyone that was affected by the storm. However, I am really happy that I was not one of them. In fact, Katrina was good to me. It got me out of work early on Thursday, as our building was locked up at three in the afternoon, and we closed the office for all of today as well.

At first, I had high hopes of just sitting at the pool and enjoying my day off, but then I started attending to household chores, laundry, dishes, ironing, shopping for household items and such, and suddenly my day was spent. However, it was all very needed and I am really glad I got the chance to get all of it out of the way. Hopefully, I will be able to use the weekend to accomplish a lot of work, for my jobs and for a new article a couple of my friends and I hope to write soon.

It's not a very glamorous excuse for being absent for so long. In fact, aside from the nights of drinking with my friend, it all seems rather boring, but trust me, I have been anything but bored.

Misplaced Passion

I never knew blogging had an underworld. I never knew it had inner workings, with big players and minor players and a life all its own. I am often amazed at the systems at play around me of which I go completely unaware. For example, when I learned that Miami Beach was largely owned by the Russian Mafia, or when I learn the forces at play with respect to a particular piece of legislation, performer, drug, celebrity, etc. When I learned from reading numerous psychology articles that women with an abusive or absentee father figure in their lives are more apt to become strippers or have emotional difficulties with their sexuality and relationships. The inner-workings of people, and the systems, images, and cycles that we create at times amuse me, and at others, disgust me.

Some of these inner workings, I will never fully know or understand, which is fine. The bare glimpses I get are usually enough for me to realize that it's not my area and that it is time for me to shuffle back to the things in life that are my area; to change and improve myself and the things in my life that I have control over, and the rest is simply better left up to someone else.

Today I, among others, was actually spammed by a blogger who so pationately dislikes another blogger that they felt I needed to know about it. Are you kidding me? You are telling me that you wasted your fervor and anger and passion on something so trivial as sending me an unsolicited email railing against the injustice of certain people getting book deals and television shows. Could you not have found a more productive way to spend your time? Perhaps you could have written to your Congressman about the atrocities occurring in the Sudan, or in our own inner cities, about the environment, your position on Iraq, your ideas on school prayer, same sex marriage, child abuse, minimum wage laws, Walmart's stance on labor unions (which is actually quite close to the position of the fast food industry), our education system, etc. Instead, this person took their time to draft an *extensive* piece complaining about PR and expressing their view that Stephanie Klein simply repackages and resells the image of Sex and the City, and that she is fake and does things all just for image.

I could not believe it. This person had struck gold in their mind - celebrities have publicists and PR people and they do things all for image and to package and market themselves. Somehow this has blown their mind. This is their battle. Their war. The thing that they are most passionate about - trying to bring the "truth" to light about a person with a blog. How about trying to bring the truth to light about the next potential Supreme Court Justice. It is much more likely that this will impact your life more than a woman with a blog, a book deal, and a television show ever will.

Boring

I was emailing my friend the other day in an attempt to coordinate plans for this weekend. She asked what we had in mind. To which I responded, "We don't have anything planned really. Maybe dinner and pool or whatever. Nothing too big. We're boring people by nature I think."

It was after writing this email and considering it for awhile yesterday that I realized, my life really is rather boring. Aside from random losses of my wallet and relationships and such, I don't really have a ton of excitement in my life. I don't party too much anymore. I work, go to the gym, watch some television, talk with friends, and fall asleep. On the weekends, I omit the work usually, and occassionally add some alcohol content and cooking to lighten the mood. Sometimes, I'll have big adventures, and I frequently travel about the state of Florida visiting friends, but I am not sure that I would be classified as Mr. Excitement.

I don't live the rock star lifestyle. I don't go to the posh restaurants, buy the designer labels, or frequent trendy destinations. I don't hookup with bloggers who are hooking up with other bloggers and create weird blogging love triangles. I don't have crazy sex parties with strippers or do drugs.

Some of my friends think I am too intellectual (or geeky), as I can discuss tax issues with my friends from The Tax Program for hours, and I actually derive fun from academic exercises, like writing articles or helping my friends with complicated legal issues. However, most of my friends that know me better would tell you this really is not the case, and that I often only do those things for the mental challenge, or to help a friend.

I'm a boring attorney. The thing I realized, though, is that I'm pretty happy about it. Don't get me wrong, I can party with the best of them, but I'll often take the cool jazz club over the loud sloppy dance party or the next big rave; often selecting the quiet spots, those undiscovered treasures where I can sit on the stool and everyone knows my name over the messy free-for-alls where anonymity is often the status quo. My hats off to the people that can keep all of the extracurricular activities going and without collapsing or cause any physical harm to themselves or others. I'll settle for my quiet spot on a beach in a hammock, with a drink in my hand, and a song in my heart.

Lost and Found

In an attempt to show some solidarity with her during her time of need, I proceeded to lose my wallet. Not realizing my act of selflessness until the next morning, I spent the night trying to find a way to empathize with her situation and distract her from the panic that had taken hold. It would be ok, everything would work out. However, I had never lost my wallet before and it was difficult for me to relate. The morning ushered in a new found appreciation for her situation.

Not only had I lost my credit cards, and driver's license, but my car registration, and social security card as well - necessitating me to contact the credit bureaus to report a fraud alert, and beginning the process of determining how to obtain a new social security card. My only happiness came from the fact that I had acquired a new passport a few months back in anticipation of some overseas trips my ex and I had planned.

I called the Cold Stone Creamery I was at the night before, the one with one of the best staffs I have ever met. (They have a team that is just so high energy and fun, it makes the experience even more fun, which may be hard to imagine.) They did not have my wallet. I left my name and number. While I remained hopeful that Cold Stone would come through for me in this pinch, I weighed my options as far as driving, and determining how long it would take me to get replacements for my documents, and I cancelled all of my bank cards. The image of getting a speeding ticket in this situation, and the reaction of the officer to my answer when he asked for my license and registration was running through my head in a dramatic, yet comedic, loop.

I spent the night in reasonably good spirits. I maintained some fading hope that my wallet would turn up, and awoke to meet the challenge of convincing my bank that they really did not need two forms of I.D. to provide me with cash, as I only had my passport. Fortunately, no questions were asked and my money was simply handed to me so that I could purchase food and overpriced gas for the week.

Upon my return to my apartment, weighed down with groceries, I received the phone call I had hoped for. "This is Cold Stone, and I don't know when, who, or how, but we found your wallet. I have it right here." Relief and joy spread through my body. I had an identity again. I had proof of my existence, and could be a normal functioning member of society once again. Now I just have to wait for my newest plastic money to arrive.

Interviewing

Every time I date, I want to quit. I just think the process is so ridiculous, and I suddenly start feeling that my life really cannot be that lonely or boring to necessitate me dating these morons. I start wondering why I am out with them, and start comparing them to people I have had relationships with in the past; picking apart and dissecting them, noting exactly how they simply do not measure up to what I want or what I would be happy with. By the end of my lunch date today, I decided that maybe I really should just stay single. How bad could it really be?

This week I am interviewing people for the receptionist position at our firm. I think I have interviewed about a dozen or so people already, and its worn me out beyond belief. You sit there explaining the position to all of these people over and over again, and interact with them hoping you will see that something special when you speak with them. Hoping that you will find the next great thing. You see the hopefulness in their eyes. They want the job; they need the job. Desperation is unattractive, in a date or in an interviewee. You stare at their resumes because you don't want to tell them that you have no desire to hire them or that they simply have no chance of getting the job because you know how much it sucks to be out of a job. You have been there. You have been the person starving and trying to pay your bills and hoping the next interview is the one.

Suddenly, you are now on the other side. You worry about people being "over qualified". You worry about whether they will be happy in the position, and how long they will last. Now periods of brief employment make you nervous. You worry about whether they will be able to handle the job and not alienate any of the clients. You want to ask the right questions, ferret out their personality and get to know what makes them tick all in the span of one hour, at most. Some shine, and some sit dimly there, unaware of everything that is passing through your mind at that moment.

I often feel the same way now when I am dating - trying to learn more about the person, and figuring out whether they would be right for the position of my girlfriend, or really any position in my life at all. You worry about the type of person that they are, what they will be like in a relationship, whether they will be happy with you and you with them. Fret about prior brief relationships that they have had, and any baggage that they might carry. Soon dating becomes a little bit like interviewing where you start getting a sense within about fifteen minutes of how well the interview is going to go. You hope against hope that they will come out with something stellar that will blow your mind and leave you thinking, I want them, but at the end of the date you say your goodbyes with things ending just about the way you expected. You learn to trust your instincts more, but at the same time you get completely fed up with the entire process and just wish you could find someone to hire.

Alcohol as Inspiration

My best friend invited me to his girlfriend's house in Miami for the weekend. It was a little surprising because I barely know her parents (she still lives at home), and now they were inviting me to dinner. However, I thought it would be pretty cool to hang out with them. I even bought wine to accompany the dinner, but we couldn't wait for the dinner to start before enjoying the wine.

It was after the first bottle that we became inspired to make an appetizer. In this case we decided on potabellos marinated in a wine sauce, mozzarella wrapped in prosciutto ham, tomatoes, and sauteed spinach. Mmmm, various spices, seasonings, and lots of garlic were added, and the wine was eventually reduced to a delicious wine sauce. BAM! Delicious.

As I related this story to an amazing siren today, she responded, "Stop drooling. It's only food." Aww, she just didn't understand. I love food, and this was delicious food. Few things rank above food on my list of things in this world that I love. I mean there's sleep, sex, and food. Some (George Costanza included) have even tried to combine two of the foregoing to create a rare and supremely orgasmic experience. Everything beyond these items is negotiable. I mean who really needs to breathe if you have to forfeit these.

I fear that the family may think I'm an alcoholic. They looked at me, as we "crazy kids" had gone through 3 bottles of wine in one afternoon. However, one bottle was almost fully consumed in marinating, and two bottles over five hours really isn't that bad. "Look at you trying to rationalize it," the siren chided. I have never achieved the status of alcoholic. I think I lack the motivation it would take to drink that often. This is probably for the best as one can only have so many things on their list that they rank above breathing.

Redesign

Inspired by Kiki, I have recruited some talent to help me. The problem is I have no idea where to start.

I think I want something simple, graphic-wise. I like little pixel people like at Chris Diclerico's. I think it would be cool to have that, and I was thinking maybe a beach theme or palm trees and ocean thing, because I am in Florida, after all. I would really like some input, though, on what any of you think and what you would like to see.

I also would like your input on the name of my blog. See at first my blog was supposed to be a blog exploring concepts and ideas. A place where my friends and I could discuss stuff. Thus, the name, "What's Out There". That didn't happen. It's more my life to date. Hence, the URL. But I can't change the name easily because people have linked to me under the old name now. So now I'm thinking space, or lighthouses or just changing the silly name. Or should I just leave it the way it is?

Your help is appreciated.

Random Musings

I also had a few musings this weekend that I felt I could safely share. Mind you the following are directed at absolutely no one in particular. They are just things that occur to me.

- Women and men seem to view being single and not being able to find the right person (their "soulmate") in different ways. A woman seems to complain that she has been having meaningless, hot animal sex with men that just aren't the right guys. "Yeah, the sex was amazing, I remember wrapping my legs around him ..." Whereas, a guy is usually not sleeping with a bunch of random women that he knows are not the one in his desperate search for the one. Granted, they're having sex probably, but perhaps not as frequently or as on demand as a woman. It's just not a problem many men encounter. I think this has to do with the fact that women get hit on by men a lot more than men get hit on by women. I figure women like sex at least as much as men do, and so when they have a moment of weakness, it's a lot easier for them to give into carnal desire than a man - unless the guy is that kind of sexy women instantly want. I wonder is a woman would be less likely to give into such desire with a guy that they really liked for fear of being thought slutty.

- I'm tired of women thinking men are the only ones that can be bad at sex. Maybe I'm just picky or something, but I have met quite a few women that quite honestly are not that good. Remember that scene in 40 Days 40 Nights where Josh Hartnett fakes it? Yeah, been there, done that. Was it good for you? Not really. Was I the best you ever had? Not even close. Am I a good kisser? Ewww. Why do women ask these questions? Why? I would never come out and overtly tell anyone that they were terrible, but if they ask, I'm also not going to lie about it. Ladies, trust me, you may be the worst they have ever had too.

- People that insult attorneys amuse me because a lot of times they are the same people that recommend you get the most underhanded one possible when you need one. It's rare you hear someone say, get the one that is really ethical and fair. (This seems especially true in divorce.) They are out to get someone and they want to find the sliest attorney possible to really screw the other guy. Yet somehow they still think attorneys are what is wrong with America. What about the people bringing these cases to court. Trust me, if the people didn't pay us, we wouldn't do the work.

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.