It's time to do the right thing.

I have a friend who is grappling a lot lately with his mother. She constantly seems to be playing hot and cold with the fact he is gay. One minute she seems okay with it, another she seems to draw needless hurtful lines in the sand that only create a further distance between her and her son.

I had the opportunity to mentor a lot of young gay folks when I was in college. And one truth was apparent: the parents nearly always come around to accept their child and love him deeper for the secret that no longer stands between them. It may take years, and years, but most eventually become their kid's greatest allies and fiercest defenders. And in the few instances where they didn't, the gay person went on to be happier for being who he is, but he went on without his parent(s). And its cripplingly sad, but he is the one who moves on. The parents never really do.

I just want to take this mother and shake her. Do you realize how much you are going to regret all of these petty little fights? All the times when you hurt your beautiful son? I am confident that she will one day come around, and I want to tell her to do it soon. There is no "gray" in love. You either do or you dont. You support him or you dont. You want him in your life or your dont. And every time you make some petty-ass decision to let something come between you and your son, you will regret it. Maybe not today, maybe not even soon. But someday you will look back: perhaps you will then have a greater understanding of what an ass you were or perhaps you will simply wonder why you dont have a better relationship with your son. And here's the answer: you didnt love him enough. So its time to cut the bullshit. Its time to let it go, see your son for the magnificent young man he is. Someone who is kind and caring, funny and intelligent, driven and, most importantly: happy in who he is.

Be happy for him. Be happy with him. I guarantee that it will only make both your lives better.

Transitions... Again

It is kinda a humid, stuffy day today in my office. It is, in fact, my last day here. After two years clerking for the Public Defender I have to say goodbye. I'm having a bit of trouble with it, to be honest. I will certainly miss the people, the work, the atmosphere... This job has been an unexpected gift from God. And it sucks to walk away from it.

So here's where I am at: I graduated law school magna cum laude. My adoption article was published by our law journal earlier this month. There was a TON of drama this year at law school (one very good reason I wasn't writing). I also wasn't writing because I largely didn't feel I needed to. I had enough outlets around for my occasional venting. Writing seems a bit more necessary now.

It looks like I am going to be working for the Wisconsin Public Defender, which is fantastic. Our office here had its funding cut, so there was no job potential here (we kinda knew that was going to be the outcome), so it is super nice that I have this job offer keeping me sane. On the downside I won't know where I will be living until about October, once bar results are announced. So until then I am studying for the Wisconsin bar, staying put here while many of my friends move away, and then figuring out what to do with the months of August and September (I have already applied to a local grocery store for a position re-stocking shelves... Im also thinking of standing next to the road begging with a sign that reads: "Graduated with Honors from Law School - Can't get a job").

Its kinda funny, because the ONLY thing I have to get done today is a rather simple memo that I am really just putting off. I may try to get it done over the weekend. I just am not quite mentally ready to be done.

Personally I am at a bit of an awkward point as well. On the one hand I want to grab at every opportunity with my various friend groups to spend as much quality time with everyone as possible. On the other hand I have this deep desire to hole-up, divest from relationships and quietly slip away.

A large part of all of this is that I have WAY too much free time at the moment. I have been running at about 150% for the last three years: full time school with sometimes two other jobs, running the social apparatus for the school while on law journal and creating all sorts of problems for the school along the way. Now it's just me. No job. No school. No social structure. Just me. Wow. That's kinda a scary thought.

Just What the Doctor Ordered

Okay. Wow. That was a fun weekend.

To be honest, and not to get all melancholy, but I have been getting a little depressed here in big ole Minneapolis. I don't have the friend base that I have grown accustomed to, and have had problems meeting people... I don't know quite what the deal is, but I'm finding this city just not that friendly. People don't like talking to strangers. I had a really rough week last week trying to make connections with friends who either canceled, ignored or otherwise shrugged off my attempts to find people to hang out with. I mean, seriously, how hard is it just to find a friend to go to a movie with? And I try not to, but at a certain point, I can't help but take it personally and wonder what's wrong with me... Well, nothing. And I knew that all along, but I just needed to get out of here for a bit to remember that.

I took a last minute trip to Chicago to spend some time with my oldest and dearest friends. J, probably my best friend from college, just bought an incredible condo 1 block off of Boystown, and I stayed in "Christian's Room" as she has dubbed it. It was just incredible to be hanging out with her, and meeting up with several other friends who I know I can always count on.

I took Friday afternoon off and ended up renting a car and driving down there with a buddy from work, who was likewise going to Chicago to visit his boyfriend. Once we got there, J made me dinner and after gawking at her unbelievable new home, we went out on the town. First to SideTrakk, which is MUCH the better than it's Traverse City version (the only gay bar in my home town: literally a double wide trailer). Within minutes at that bar we happened to bump into a couple from Traverse who have served as my friends and mentors since I came out at age 17. Quite incredible to see them out, and I was thrilled to catch up with them.

And here's the thing: when we went to the bar to grab some drinks, random people just started talking to us. Maybe it was unique to MarketDays, which was last weekend, but it was amazing to have people strike up a conversation! I can NEVER get people to do that in Minneapolis!

From SideTrakk J and I moved on to Hydrate to meet up with one of my childhood friends (known me since 2nd grade) and his new wife. Let the flood of people wash over us there for a bit, then over to Buck's for pool. Again, people just randomly chatting with us left and right. We lasted to bar close, and then made our way home.

The next morning, J and I got breakfast, then walked around Market Days, collecting condoms and flirting with random guys at random tables. About noon we met up with another friend (also from 2nd grade) and his ex-girlfriend, who I adore. We ended up drinking outside straight from noon until 7:30. J and I actually forgot to eat, and were making ourselves quite happy drinking Bacardi's canned Mojitos.... Quite yummy. But by 7:30 I was dancing shirtless in the street and motorboating complete strangers (see photo), before I passed out neatly in my room.

I woke up about 2am, roaring and ready to go. "What the hell?" I thought, so I hit the streets, looking for some fun. As I was walking up Halstead, a small Filipino guy, Danny, approached me:

"Hey, how you doing?"

"Good." I said, wondering what he wanted.

"Are you straight?" he asked.

"No, why do you ask?" I responded.

"Good. Let's go get a drink." And just like that, I had a companion at Buck's where we chatted til about 3am. He was even super nice after I made it clear that I wasn't interested in going home with him. After Buck's closed, Danny directed me to Hydrate, where I proceeded to dance til about 5am, stopping only to make out with Paul, a publicist from D.C. Then home, playing in the rain along the way.

The next morning, J and I met our friend D (another awesome friend from college) for brunch at Orange. The wait was excruciating, (as we hadn't eaten real food in roughly 24 hours) but it gave us ample time to catch up and the food was well worth the wait. After that, we walked around Market Days for a little while longer (saw one of gay porn's biggest stars, Matthew Rush, walking around), and then I picked up my buddy from work, and we made our way back to Minneapolis. It had been a weekend of amazing friends, shirtless guys and just feeling wonderful about myself again.

It was, indeed, just what I needed.


Musical Fodder for my Writing:
"Spit on a Stranger" Nickel Creek,
This Side

Counting Blessings

I just finished writing my Thank You Notes from my birthday. My mother was always an extreme stickler about sending notes out, and, although they are a tich late this round, it has become important to me as well. Sometimes it is less about the action of thanking the person than just generally being thankful overall. Reminds us of exactly what gifts we have received (both birthday and otherwise) and to be grateful for each of them.

To be honest, last year's birthday sucked worse than any I can remember before it. It was a law school thing, and it was just horrid. But this year couldn't have been better. I took the initiative to get my butt to Chile to be with my sister. And let me just say that no one can do a birthday quite like my sister. There she treated me to a deluge of tasty treats, an incredible meal of Tapas in Valparaiso (Poblenou: try the apple and honey roasted chicken or the pork tenderloin with saffron risotto, both amazing!), and her host mother had a little celebration that included seafood empanadas which were incredible! Carey took me out shopping, and we just spent a wonderful day together.

Then, when I got home, my father presented me with a ceramic tile piece he had bought in China with a cool fish design. He took me out for a couple of great meals, bought me a new power drill and a case for my Mac book. Quite generous.

There have been times in my life, ESPECIALLY with my father, that I have neglected everything he has given me (sometimes out of envy for what my sister has received). It's important to see that he has also been consistently generous with me as well.

It was a good birthday. And I am getting more mature (or at least older).

Musical Fodder for my Writing:
"When All is Said and Done" Trapt,
Trapt

A Day with Life

I spent the day today doing something important. It's funny, because I would so often like to think that the accomplishments of a day are "important." The minutia of law school helps us to lose ourselves in the self-love of what sort of things we can get done on behalf of clients, what kind of arguments we can make, what kind of battles we can win.

And today I blew all of that stuff off. I skipped most of the day's various obligations because a friend needed me. I called into my clinic and said, "I'm sorry that I won't be coming in. Actually, no. No. I'm not sorry. This is something I have to do." And it was.

A dear friend from school had to endure the horror of her partner going through emergency surgery. Another friend and I arrived at the hospital just as she was starting to contemplate what would happen if she lost this wonderful, dear person in her life. It immediately became clear how I needed to spend the rest of my day.

We didn't really "do" anything. We were just there. It was the only role we really could play. And yet it was the only one we really needed to.

I learned early in my life that there can be no greater appreciation of life than in the face of death. And there is no greater appreciation of love than in the face of loss. To see my friend anxious and upset over her love gave me a glimpse into the depth of their relationship, and the immensity of their love. I got to be a witness to how two people in this world have come to mean everything to each other in a way that takes my breath away. It gives me hope. Even in this sadness, there was hope.

It's truly amazing with these trials life hands us. They may be the hardest things that we ever bear, but they bring us closer to those around us. Remind us of what is important. And most amazingly they remind us of all the love that surrounds us. Lest I seem heroic or noble or whatever, I was only one of the core group of friends at school that has "been there" for this one. Each offered their distinct aspects of friendship. Whether it was humor, tact, listening, medical knowledge, administrative know-how.... each has supported this friend in their own way. And it fills me with great happiness to know that they would be there for me as well. That this trial, and our response to it, was not just a testament to my friendship to her, but to our friendship to each other.

I feel so blessed to have gotten to do something so important today as just being a friend.

Musical Fodder for my Writing:
"Tomorrow is a Long Time" Nickel Creek,
Why Should the Fire Die? TITLE

50 First Dates

This semester seems like it is going to be a bit easier than the past three. I no longer fear my classes, professors, or classmates, and since I am not technically working this semester at a paying job, my days tend to be a lot shorter. This has afforded me the opportunity to cook like crazy (this last week: Cherry-Glazed tenderloins, Three-Mustard Chicken, Indonesian Peanut Chicken, and a Vodka-Bolognese Pasta). It has also given me the opportunity to date.

A lot.

In the last three weeks I have gone on first-dates with five different guys. As one of them later commented, “It’s like dating season hit early.” I guess it’s the mild weather. Reminds me of a John Mayer song.

While the string of “first dates” with few seconds might seem dismal, I have actually really enjoyed the ability to get to know someone, determine their worth in 30-minutes or less, and then get on with my life. (I’m kidding about that last part). I have always thought that the first dates were always the most fun: getting to know someone, quietly peering into the future to see if there would be any possibility with the guy, fantasizing just a little about that prospect. It’s far removed from the actual nitty-gritty of a relationship and also gives you the opportunity to feel wanted and to remind yourself that you ARE indeed a quality dating candidate.

It’s rather funny: when you are single and not dating, you fantasize about having a boyfriend. But now that I am dating, I am not so keen on the boyfriend idea: I’m having fun doing this part, and wouldn’t want to peremptorily latch onto one candidate for fear of missing out on someone more suitable. While this threatens to turn me into a “serial dater” if Nebraska (see June entries) was any indication, I can see a good thing when it comes along. (p.s. I saw him at the bar not too long ago with a really… less attractive… date. That’s always affirming. Even though he still wouldn’t say Hello without a great deal of awkwardness.)

So that’s me. Cooking and dating. And really happy about it.

Musical Fodder for my Writing:
"St. Patrick's Day" John Mayer,
Room for Squares

Dead Mother's Society

Wow... I usually don't write about television shows, but Grey's Anatomy just hit that one on the head. Amazing.

After my mother died unexpectedly when I was 17, I joined a newly-formed "Grief Group" at my high school. The school counselor had noticed that many students had recently had losses in their families, so he got permission for us to skip class once a month or so and sit around and talk about it. I remember that their were 12 of us. And 10 had lost their mother's in previous year. Eerie.

I don't remember if it was there or later when I was living in Venezuela with a wonderful girl from D.C. who had also lost her mother. But I know that it was there that we officially started coining the "Dead Mother's Society." We actually teasingly ostracized our other best friend down there who had a family blessedly untouched by death. And when another friend lost her mother, we were quick to let her into our club. While we struggled with living in a whole new culture, we both had to address aspects of our losses. There was something about the solidarity to be found in others who you know understand that which is completely non-understandable: death. We were so young, but so mature in that one (limited) respect. We had something. It was a horrible burden while also being an incredible blessing.

Well, in Grey's Anatomy this week George's father died. At the end of the episode, Christina welcomed him into the "Dead Father's Club." And George said one of the most profound lines I have ever heard on television:

"I don't know how to exist in a world where my dad doesn't."

Seven years out, I still live those words.

Musical Fodder for my Writing:
"We Will Be Silhouettes" The Postal Service,
Give Up

Success and Happiness

In my youth, my mother posted a saying on one of our kitchen cabinets, where it remains to this day:

"Success is getting what you want. Happiness is wanting what you get."

Lately I have been riding myself pretty hard about what I lack in my own life. When visiting my cousins these last couple of days, I joked self-derogatorily about my inability to find and hold onto a boyfriend. My elder cousins have all paired off and found wonderful spouses. Even some of the younger ones are showing me up in the relationship department. It's easy to look around the room and feel like your whole life doesn't measure up to the glamour of those partnerships.

One of my cousins-in-law gave me a wake-up call though: "Look around this room," he said. "Who among your cousins, or even their spouses, has the job prospects that you have? It seems to me that you are doing pretty well for yourself right about now."

I've had to concede recently that I have sacrificed a lot in terms of social-life and relationship prospects so that I could pursue my goals through law school. I have had to put my hobbies on hold. I'm not as fit as I currently would like to be. And yet I lead a very happy life. I'm surrounded by great people. I have a job I love. I am kicking ass at school (I may have to revise this after grades get posted).

I have long understood the despair that comes from comparing yourself to those around you. I think it is time for me to start being happy with the things I have earned myself, and let everything else fall into place as it will. And have faith that it all will.

Musical Fodder for my Writing:
"Keep it Precious" Melissa Etheridge,
Never Enough

Losing my Flirt

I realized the other day that I have lost my "flirt."

Perhaps it is that I live in an academic and work world where it is not okay to "put yourself out there" and take risks that could damage your reputation. Perhaps I spent so much time flirting from behind the safety of a bar that I can no longer survive without that safety net. Perhaps I just need to grow a pair.

For whatever reason, I no longer seem to be able to approach men. This has been crimping my style for quite a while. I dont want to seem lame, I dont want to get shot down, I dont want to be seen as "that guy," so instead I am not seen at all. Guys continue to pressume that I am straight/taken/intimidating and I miss a hell of a lot of opportunities.

My friend Peter in Chicago tried to teach me some of his style last time I visited him. Its the "Im fucking Christian!" mentality. I guess the idea didnt take. The other night at the fundraiser (see previous post) I struck up a conversation with an extremely attractive eligible bachelor. We actually talked about our inabilities to approach men. And it would have taken just a little bit of guts to say, "Hey, would you be interested in going for dinner sometime." And yet I let him walk away without following through with the encounter.

I found out the next day that later that night he had scheduled a date with another guy.

Then after I was finished rushing around the city today with an incredible red-wine-hangover, I got onto a bus toward home to pack and catch my flight home. I get on the bus, and see this guy with beautiful eyes sitting a bit ahead of me. I can see his eyes because he keeps turning and casually looking at me. At one point our eyes catch and we have "Eye Sex" for about 10 seconds before I looked away. Then I got up to get off, and he got up and stood with his back to me, milimeters away from me. He got off at the stop before mine. I should have gotten off with him, walked the extra block, asked him if he lived around here. Asked him his name. Generally struck up a conversation. Damnit.

My internet bf (dont ask) was telling me about how he hit on his waiter and ended up having great sex as a result. Im less jealous of the sex than his ability to strike up interest from a perfect stranger.

I think if I have a New Year's Resolution it is this: Take the Friggin Risk! It has become apparent to me that the coy thing isn't working out for me, and it is time to let go of some of the safety of hiding behind my ego and seeming above it all. It's not working. It's time to flirt.

Musical Fodder for my Writing:
"You Still Touch Me" Sting,
Mercury Falling

Guilty

I got my first jury verdict yesterday. I had been working on this case for about three and a half months, and earlier in the day was extremely excited to see the work conclude and ship the file off of my desk. That was, of course, before I realized just what that would mean for our client.

This was a first degree murder trial, which means that when the jury found our client guilty, the client I had sat behind for two weeks, that he gets a mandatory life sentence. They spent just four hours deliberating how this 24 year old man gets to spend the rest of his life.

Setting aside the fact that the prosecutor pulled some dirty-ass stunts on the last day of trial, and that there are some serious "sufficiency of the evidence" issues to take to the Court of Appeals, I just have trouble looking at this guy, who was allegedly the get-away-driver in the shooting, and seeing that he could have no potential value to our community. I know more about this guy's gang history than almost anyone else on the planet, and I know that it isnt pretty. But I can honestly say that I think he is fundamentally a good guy. A good guy that has just fucked up. A lot.

I was asked to sit in on the "exit interview" with the client after the verdict was read. We went back to the holding area and just sat there for what felt like forever. What the fuck does someone say to a guy who has just had his adult life sentenced to a cell, with no hope of parole til he's in his 60s? To not get to participate in his child's life? He was betrayed by friends on the stand who we KNOW were lying to get a deal from the prosecutor. No eye-witness could put him at the scene. And it took four hours to convict. We just sat there swearing to ourselves under our breathe. When it was all over we got up and both gave the guy a sincere hug. A very sincere hug. It was all we could do.

Someone asked me later if this makes me more or less inclined to work in criminal defense. I dont even have to think about it. More. How can I walk away feeling like the system doesnt need more people standing up for defendants when I see it as so fundamentally broken that we throw people away for the rest of their lives?

I went home and exercised as many coping methods as I could (besides the obvious: drinking, which I tried to stay away from). I worked out until my body was wracked with pain. I crumpled, sobbing, in the shower. I cooked for a couple hours, binging along the way on anything I could get my hands on. Then fell asleep watching Elf, trying to think of better things. It worked to some extent.

I wish that there was a happy ending to this one. But I do work in the criminal justice system. Usually not happy beginings and few happy endings.

Musical Fodder for my Writing:
"Crawling in the Dark" Hoobastank,
Hoobastank

Two Unknown Phone Numbers

So Saturday night became rather eventful...

I had spent the day at the office trying to get things ready for the end of the trial I am working on, and then came home and started to study for finals, as most of my friends were doing. I was content to drink a bottle of Syrah, cuddle up to a few favorite gay flicks and enjoy a solitary night home.

Then I got a call from an unfamiliar number...

It was the gay republican who I blew off after I figured out that he had some "issues" going on. One of which being that he liked to insult me. The other being an extreme discomfort with "being gay." I hadn't been completely confident in my decision to end things with him when I had done so, and getting a call out of the blue on a solitary Saturday night didn't help me feel much more certain about my decision. Thoughts start to arise, "Maybe I should give him another chance." "Maybe I should have settled for... (insert issues here)." I called my sister, who had been adamant about this guy being wrong for me, but she wasn't around, so I didn't have that fortitude to back me up. All of a sudden my "solitary" Saturday felt a bit more "lonely."

Then I got my second call from an unfamiliar number...

This one from one of my best friends who had left me for Boston. He was *surprise* in town for the weekend and *not surprised* up for going out. "Get showered and shave, we're going out!" Sweet! I miss this buddy dearly, and it was great to see him. Went to a quick houseparty, then off to the Saloon where I proceeded to get drunk enough to take off my shirt. It wasn't that I drank a lot there, but that I had forgotten about the bottle of wine I had drank earlier with my more innocuous intentions.

Ended up closing up the bar, making out with a friend, having a very good night. It's amazing to me the difference that having these people in my life makes. One made me feel particularly bad about myself. The other made me feel like a rock star. I really shouldn't be so dependant on the people around me for how I feel about myself... But I am only human, after all.

Musical Fodder for my Writing:

She loved it when I sang

Ive been working on my Appellate Brief all weekend, and have made some decent progress on it. It's nice to have the weekend to dedicate to the project. The apartment is quiet, and I am remaining relatively disciplined in my task. This morning I woke, though, with an odd memory. Rather out of place, rather distant, it was the remembrance of how much my mother loved when I sang.

I had always been a bit of a singer. One of my first childhood memories was of me playing on the playground by myself, singing to myself a made-up musical in my head. Later, I put my song to more social uses singing for my church, joining choirs, acting in (actual) musicals, and eventually doing some solo work and getting leads in those musicals. It was never effortless for me. It was something that I always had to work very hard at, even with the easiest music. I was definitely not a natural, but it was something that I loved.

Whether it was pride in her own flesh, or an acknowledgment of her own dreadful singing voice, my mother was truly the biggest fan of my singing. It was something that made her happy. I remember going on a family trip to New Orleans, where we saw a man singing on the corner of a street. Mom prodded, "Go up there and sing with him!" I was sheepish, but the man and I ended up ripping out a jazz version of "Amazing Grace." When we were done, we had attracted a crowd, and Mom was just glowing.

When she died just a few months later, I sang that same song at her death bed, knowing that would be the proper way to say goodbye if such a thing existed. I tried to sing it for her funeral, but could barely get the notes out. This was a woman who inspired so much in our community that her wake took two days, and had lines running out the door of the church. Her funeral was standing-room only. To have that woman take pride in me, take pride in my voice, it gave me something that I haven't found since. The world is full of critics, and Mom was more than just a fan... she was Mom.

I stopped singing when I went to college. Maybe it was that my mother was no longer around to support me in this endeavor. I think it was more the competitive and self-serving feeling that singing started to take on. Singing became part of a career goal, something that would advance my personal interests. It wasn't about sharing, it was about achieving. I lost interest.

Maybe it's time to start singing again.

Musical Fodder for my Writing:
"Landslide" Fleetwood Mac,
The Dance

500-some Criminal Defense Attorneys went into the Woods...

Nope. Not the start of a joke. A start of my weekend.

My office went on a huge ass retreat/conference this weekend with all of our sister offices from around the state. It was amazing, fun, and very stimulating. It was nice to be around that many intelligent, liberal individuals. There's just something about people who will go through 7 years of education and then take a 50% pay cut to work for the poor. Partied like crazy, and just got away from all the crap that had been stressing me out all week. Granted, I will go back to being stressed out about it tomorrow again, but that's okay. I'll live.

I must pause to pat myself on the back a little bit though. A weekend of booze and professionals, and I managed to not make an ass of myself (regardless of campfire beer fights, pick-pocketing, shaking booty with my boss and firework fun). In fact, I am fairly sure I made a pretty good impression. The more I can strategically integrate myself into all aspects of my office, the better my chance that when it comes time to hire new attorneys they look at my file and say, "Well, we just can't let him go. He's awesome!" One can only hope.

Had some interesting reflections this weekend too. The 2nd would have been my mother's birthday. And the breaking of the whole Haggard scandal, and his background as a man who has made so many LGBT people feel austasized and excluded from Christ's love, well that pulls my mind back to a time when I was kicked out of a faith community in the name of Righteousness. That year I had to do a lot of growing. I learned my strengths and my friends. And that the two are not entirely seperate concepts.

I just watched a gay movie called "Dorian Blues." Not bad for a gay-flick. Toward the end it had a line, "They say a boy becomes a man the day his father dies...."

For me, I think it must have been my mother.

Musical Fodder for my Writing:
"Winding Road" Bonnie Somerville,
Garden State

Much Relieved

I woke up on yesterday morning at 2am with one of those "OH MY GOD, Im not going to make it through this week" panic attacks. I had just been handed an extra 12-15 hours worth of work unexpectedly the day before, an assignment that needed to be completed within an already time strained week. And completed with a partner. AHHH! That and the massive amount of cases that were slowly starting to amass on my desk. Etc. etc. etc.

I did my best to calm myself. Meditated. Prayed. Tried to problem solve good use of my time. Wrote down the issues that I thought were going to be problematic as the week quickly progressed. And things got better.

I got another work team to take the last minute assignment off my hands. Then I stayed at work til almost 9pm to get some motion to the work that had started to stagnate. As I walked home last night in the newly chilly fall air, the only feeling I had was one of deep relief. I had made it. It is going to get better. I am going to get through it all. Thank God, in the absolutely literal sense. The prayer helped focus me. The gift of other team members who were willing to take some time off my hands for the time being.

The next 20 days are still going to be among the most strenuous of my academic career, but I'm going to make it. That's relieving to remember.

Musical Fodder for my Writing:
"Cosy in the Rocket" Psapp,
Grey's Anatomy Soundtrack

This, Right Now, Is Why I'm Single

Friday night. 10:30 p.m. I'm staying in. I couldn't be happier about that.

I spent the last few weeks stressing out about planning last night's Halloween party for the law school. It ended up being a kick-ass party, and everything went well, but I was exhausted from putting everything together and literally sleeping in my office last night so as to save time between helping to close the bar at 2:30am and working at 7:30am.

Anyway, my party-mojo is a bit spent. I have at least two parties I could make it to tonight, and was planning on going out until about 20 minutes ago. But I'm relieved as hell to be sitting peaceably in my apartment watching DVDs and listening to music.

I have moments lately when I look at my life and wonder why Im not sharing it with someone else. In the darker moments I begin to wonder, "Is there something wrong with me?" The truth is, however, that I am just not "out there" right now. The dating pool at a law school party is rather shallow (although I did have a cutie handcuff himself to me last night... but I think he is straight). And while there would undoubtably be eligible gay bachelors at the parties tonight, here I sit in my apartment.

Law school is undoubtably one of those things that one must just "get through." And this semester is likely the busiest I will have. I'm weathering things well. Very well in fact. And I suppose that if that means that I have to neglect my social life for a little while for personal sanity and health, Im just going to have to be patient with myself.

Musical Fodder for my Writing:
"When I Fall" Barenaked Ladies,
Born on a Pirate Ship

Caution: Don't Operate Under the Influence of Anger

Where did my Zen go?

And my charm with it?

This week I got angry. I let something get to me on Sunday. A wrong that I knew just had to be righted. People had come to me seeking guidance, and I took their issues on as my own.

I am trying really hard not to write off the lessons of this week as "Drink more, Care less," which is, of course, my first inclination. But I think there is a greater lesson to be learned. I got so very very full of righteous anger at this situation that in the process of trying to solve this "great ill" I stepped on a dear friend's toes and insulted her, perhaps overstepped the bounds of a leadership position that I have been trusted with, and might have umm... well... threatened the Dean. Yeah. Im feeling like a pretty popular guy right now. All because I let myself get angry.

It's like this Incredible Hulk thing. People generally find me gregarious and easygoing. But if something manages to get me angry, well, then Im not so much fun to be around. I want Justice, and I want it NOW!!! Unfortunately, 99% of the time, that is not the way the world works. The person who is to blame for the situation I am trying to solve will undoubtably face consequences in his life for his actions (or not). But the situation which I suppose should concern me more is the way that I have allowed myself to become isolated in my anger at the situation. And there is noone to blame for that but myself. I havent let others become involved in the ways that they otherwise might come forward. I havent respected my school enough to at least let them TRY to get this right. They might not, but I guess the greater issue is whether I am going to let myself become lost in the process.

Maybe the lesson here is, "Drink more, but still care in the right way." The irony is that the prayer, reflection and even breathing that I have tried to make integral parts of my life got completely left on the wayside here. And I lost.

Learn this lesson Christian.

Damnit. Learn this lesson.

Musical Fodder for my Writing:
"The World I Know" Collective Soul,
Collective Soul