Update: So it's not quite as perfect as I pre-decided but I still want it. The interviewer was very hard to read, so I have no idea how it went. Won't know anything for probably about a month. Just keep focusing all your efforts on sending the majority of your goodwill towards me until future notice. Great, thanks! Really, though, thanks for all the well-wishes and happy thoughts. I owe you.
********************************************************
Today at 11:00 am Eastern Standard Time, I have a job interview for a job I really, really want. I usually just roll with things. I believe there is a plan for everything and what will be, will be. But I really, really want this job, so if the plan could be that I get this job, that would great. Also, a relief.
Oprah says you have to speak your desires, so: I want this job.
If you could maybe spare some good thoughts around 11:00 am EST, that would be lovely. It couldn't hurt. And if you are reading this after 11:00 am EST, well, think some good thoughts anyway, because it is very possible they will not make a snap decision at the immediate time of my interview. I make a good first impression, but even I cannot convey everything I am simply with good hair. Your thoughts will help.
Thank you for your time.
Tuesday, March 22, 2011
Monday, March 21, 2011
The Last Time: Last Paper
Last Wednesday, March 16, 2011, I turned in the last paper of my law school career. And I was so giddy over not having to write anything ever again that I waited 5 days to write to tell you about it. Because I could.
Then I remembered that I still have to write an endless stream of research memos three days a week at my part-time firm job, and I will have to write four final exams in a couple months, and I will write at least six essays for the bar exam, and then basically spend the rest of my life churning out memos and motions and briefs and letters, so the giddiness has slightly waned.
But I turned in the last thing I will have to write until the end of April! Yay! It's the small victories, people.
That part of it is over. Never again will I be up all night crying, cursing Bluebook citations, and wondering if it is too late to finish my application to culinary school on the eve of a deadline. I just don't think pie would ever make me cry like that. I've also never waited until the last possible minute to make pie. It's just more and more clear I've missed my calling.
Just one more time for emphasis: IT IS OVER!
Then I remembered that I still have to write an endless stream of research memos three days a week at my part-time firm job, and I will have to write four final exams in a couple months, and I will write at least six essays for the bar exam, and then basically spend the rest of my life churning out memos and motions and briefs and letters, so the giddiness has slightly waned.
But I turned in the last thing I will have to write until the end of April! Yay! It's the small victories, people.
That part of it is over. Never again will I be up all night crying, cursing Bluebook citations, and wondering if it is too late to finish my application to culinary school on the eve of a deadline. I just don't think pie would ever make me cry like that. I've also never waited until the last possible minute to make pie. It's just more and more clear I've missed my calling.
Just one more time for emphasis: IT IS OVER!
Tuesday, March 15, 2011
I'm Only Wearing Sweatpants From Now Until May
Since moving in one month ago, Joe has lost 5.5 lbs. I, on the other hand, have been bloated, my jeans are increasingly tightening, and I can't be sure since I refuse to weigh myself, but it's probable that I have gained 17.6 lbs in 30 days. That is how I feel.
The problem is that we've been cooking together almost every day, which I absolutely adore, but the richness of this diet is catching up to me. Joe makes scrambled eggs with veggies, toast with butter, and bacon or chicken sausage for breakfasts. Dinners have been homemade marinara with meatballs slowly simmered for four hours, chicken piccata with green beans and buttermilk mashed potatoes, pappa al pomodoro with a toasted crumbled crouton pancetta basil garnish, red beans and rice with andouille sausage, fish with a dijon lemon cream sauce, etc., etc., delicious etc.
I used to only keep water and milk in the fridge for hydration and calcium purposes, since I have a firm belief that all other beverages only add calories and are a waste of money when water is all you need. Joe, however, loves variety in his beverages and my fridge is now stocked with ginger ale, orange juice, and apple juice in family-size quantities. My water intake has significantly decreased.
Joe's diet has gotten considerably healthier compared to his bachelor if it's fried and dipped in gravy and covered in hot sauce and I can wash it down with beer I will eat it days. Mine on the other hand has increased greatly in richness and quantity, further suffering from the fact that I live with a man who actually goes willingly on ice cream runs. Do you know how many times I've dreamed of being able to merely speak my desire for ice cream only to have someone immediately go fetch it, take the lid off, and hand it to me with a spoon? Having my dream realized is now slowly killing me.
It's also making me incredibly self-conscious and uncomfortable as the wearable items in my closet slowly decrease. Last night I got a lime popsicle out of the freezer. I looked at Joe as I removed the wrapper and he was looking at me.
"Are you judging me for having a popsicle?"
"No."
"Then why are you looking at me?"
"I wasn't looking at you. You were looking at me."
"How do you know I was looking at you if you weren't looking at me?"
"..."
"I'm going to the bedroom to eat my popsicle."
"Okay."
"IT'S ONLY 60 CALORIES!"
Mmhmm, that happened. Perfectly normal and healthy, Christina.
Also, this:
"What did you buy?"
"Snacks."
"More ginger ale? And snack mix? And Pringles? Seriously?"
"I like drinks! I got the organic snack mix! And the Pringles are MULTI GRAIN!"
Dude's trying to compromise.
We went to the gym together yesterday. Sixty minutes on the elliptical later and the realization that I have to figure out a way to converge our different dietary needs. I know how to cook healthy, that's not the problem. I just have to cook now to satisfy two people. Brown rice and broiled fish and roasted veggies just isn't going to satisfy Joseph. And why should it? He can eat like this and still lose weight. Since moving in together means I'm practically contractually obligated not to hate him, I'll have to figure out how to cook in a way that makes us both feel good.
Especially since now that we're adding gym time to his routine, I'm pretty sure Joe will be losing 20 lbs in as many days and it's going to be so, so, so hard not to really, really, really hate him.
The problem is that we've been cooking together almost every day, which I absolutely adore, but the richness of this diet is catching up to me. Joe makes scrambled eggs with veggies, toast with butter, and bacon or chicken sausage for breakfasts. Dinners have been homemade marinara with meatballs slowly simmered for four hours, chicken piccata with green beans and buttermilk mashed potatoes, pappa al pomodoro with a toasted crumbled crouton pancetta basil garnish, red beans and rice with andouille sausage, fish with a dijon lemon cream sauce, etc., etc., delicious etc.
I used to only keep water and milk in the fridge for hydration and calcium purposes, since I have a firm belief that all other beverages only add calories and are a waste of money when water is all you need. Joe, however, loves variety in his beverages and my fridge is now stocked with ginger ale, orange juice, and apple juice in family-size quantities. My water intake has significantly decreased.
Joe's diet has gotten considerably healthier compared to his bachelor if it's fried and dipped in gravy and covered in hot sauce and I can wash it down with beer I will eat it days. Mine on the other hand has increased greatly in richness and quantity, further suffering from the fact that I live with a man who actually goes willingly on ice cream runs. Do you know how many times I've dreamed of being able to merely speak my desire for ice cream only to have someone immediately go fetch it, take the lid off, and hand it to me with a spoon? Having my dream realized is now slowly killing me.
It's also making me incredibly self-conscious and uncomfortable as the wearable items in my closet slowly decrease. Last night I got a lime popsicle out of the freezer. I looked at Joe as I removed the wrapper and he was looking at me.
"Are you judging me for having a popsicle?"
"No."
"Then why are you looking at me?"
"I wasn't looking at you. You were looking at me."
"How do you know I was looking at you if you weren't looking at me?"
"..."
"I'm going to the bedroom to eat my popsicle."
"Okay."
"IT'S ONLY 60 CALORIES!"
Mmhmm, that happened. Perfectly normal and healthy, Christina.
Also, this:
"What did you buy?"
"Snacks."
"More ginger ale? And snack mix? And Pringles? Seriously?"
"I like drinks! I got the organic snack mix! And the Pringles are MULTI GRAIN!"
Dude's trying to compromise.
We went to the gym together yesterday. Sixty minutes on the elliptical later and the realization that I have to figure out a way to converge our different dietary needs. I know how to cook healthy, that's not the problem. I just have to cook now to satisfy two people. Brown rice and broiled fish and roasted veggies just isn't going to satisfy Joseph. And why should it? He can eat like this and still lose weight. Since moving in together means I'm practically contractually obligated not to hate him, I'll have to figure out how to cook in a way that makes us both feel good.
Especially since now that we're adding gym time to his routine, I'm pretty sure Joe will be losing 20 lbs in as many days and it's going to be so, so, so hard not to really, really, really hate him.
Thursday, March 10, 2011
Literally Caught In A Revolving Door. It's Almost Too Perfect. Related: I Am Not Ready To Be A Grown-Up.
In a poetically perfect metaphor for my feelings about the adult life soon to be thrust upon me, I got stuck in a revolving door last week as I was walking out of the train station that brings me into the big city from my sweet little student life in the suburbs.
To be more specific, my arm got stuck. Because I was pushed out of the way by a woman who was rushing to get ahead. She darted ahead of me and pushed hard to move the revolving door forward. When she did so, I fell back and my arm inconveniently intervened with her desire to advance by getting caught in the door as it swept forward. I cried out. She perfunctorily apologized. I wrested my arm from the door and she pushed forward and ran on.
To be more specific, my arm got stuck. Because I was pushed out of the way by a woman who was rushing to get ahead. She darted ahead of me and pushed hard to move the revolving door forward. When she did so, I fell back and my arm inconveniently intervened with her desire to advance by getting caught in the door as it swept forward. I cried out. She perfunctorily apologized. I wrested my arm from the door and she pushed forward and ran on.
Luckily, I was wearing a thick wool coat so the damage was minimal. A nice gentleman asked me if I was okay and commented that he hoped she had a very important place to be. I do too.
Thursday, March 3, 2011
Wednesday, March 2, 2011
Someone's Video Games Are About To Be In Alphabetical Order. In The Closet.
Joe is back in New York for tonight and tomorrow to help his dad move. And probably to spoon and french with his buddies after 2 1/2 long, unbearable weeks apart. Joseph is a New Yorker through and through. He's lived his whole life in the same 40 mile radius and lived in the same condo for the last 11 years and had the same best friends since high school who he would see almost every day. The man hates change and loves New York pretty much equally. Getting him to agree to move three hours to the left was like asking him to move to Antarctica and never look back. When we finally set the date, he asked if we could postpone it so he could enjoy one last Superbowl with his friends. Because he'll never see them again, you see, and also, we probably don't even have football in Pennsylvania. It is a strange and mystical land. A land where none of his friends live and you can't get the YES network. But he's here now because losing me "is not an option." He loves me more than New York. It's the most romantic thing he's ever implied.
So he's having an affair tonight with his first love and I am polishing off the remainder of a bottle of wine that was used the other night for chicken piccata, while nibbling at a stick of sharp cheddar cheese. It's very classy. For a girl that loves to be alone, I'm a little uncomfortable with how unsettled I already am to be by myself. I kind of miss him and don't want to sleep in an empty bed. Especially since he's probably going to sleep in a man cuddle surrounded by empty beer bottles lulled to sleep by the sounds of a rerun Yankee game clutching a toy Statue of Liberty and wearing an "I heart NY" T-shirt. This is unacceptable. Who is this girl?
I'm going to have more wine and more cheese and sleep in the middle of the bed. Probably clutching a wine bottle surrounded by cheese lulled to sleep by Will & Grace reruns and wearing very unsexy but crazy comfortable sweatpants. Or maybe I'll take this opportunity to put all his stuff away in a fashion I deem presentable. Bingo.
So he's having an affair tonight with his first love and I am polishing off the remainder of a bottle of wine that was used the other night for chicken piccata, while nibbling at a stick of sharp cheddar cheese. It's very classy. For a girl that loves to be alone, I'm a little uncomfortable with how unsettled I already am to be by myself. I kind of miss him and don't want to sleep in an empty bed. Especially since he's probably going to sleep in a man cuddle surrounded by empty beer bottles lulled to sleep by the sounds of a rerun Yankee game clutching a toy Statue of Liberty and wearing an "I heart NY" T-shirt. This is unacceptable. Who is this girl?
I'm going to have more wine and more cheese and sleep in the middle of the bed. Probably clutching a wine bottle surrounded by cheese lulled to sleep by Will & Grace reruns and wearing very unsexy but crazy comfortable sweatpants. Or maybe I'll take this opportunity to put all his stuff away in a fashion I deem presentable. Bingo.
Tuesday, March 1, 2011
The Last Time: Spring Break
I am on Spring Break right now. At this very minute. This is me on vacation. I am sitting on the couch in a T-shirt and my middle school gym shorts eating a bowl of multi-grain cereal and wondering how long I have to let Joe watch this show before I can change the channel. It's pretty awesome. Vacation, I mean. This show is crap. People are being shot at in a foreign country for no reason and every actor has a different accent. Now Joe is commenting upon the fact that this guy is using a pistol to shoot instead of an AK47. Apparently, that is just silly. Everyone knows that if you go to the desert you should bring your AK47 with you. American Idol is on. I am showing amazing restraint.
I am doing nothing this week except reporting to the part-time firm job twice this week and preparing for the required ethics test associated with being admitted to the bar, which I will be taking on Saturday. I've already memorized the rule about not sleeping with clients, so I am way ahead of the game. Also, you shouldn't have a personal interest in the results of a case and you shouldn't throw things at judges. That last one isn't in the Code of Professional Ethics but it's still a good rule of thumb.
This post reflects my current state of mental vacation. Tomorrow, I am going to sleep in gloriously late, waking only half-heartedly to tell Joe to have a nice day when he leaves for work, and then I'm going to make a giant cup of coffee and sit on my couch. That's it. That's all I'm going to do. I have the same plans for Thursday. This is all kinds of awesome.
I am doing nothing this week except reporting to the part-time firm job twice this week and preparing for the required ethics test associated with being admitted to the bar, which I will be taking on Saturday. I've already memorized the rule about not sleeping with clients, so I am way ahead of the game. Also, you shouldn't have a personal interest in the results of a case and you shouldn't throw things at judges. That last one isn't in the Code of Professional Ethics but it's still a good rule of thumb.
This post reflects my current state of mental vacation. Tomorrow, I am going to sleep in gloriously late, waking only half-heartedly to tell Joe to have a nice day when he leaves for work, and then I'm going to make a giant cup of coffee and sit on my couch. That's it. That's all I'm going to do. I have the same plans for Thursday. This is all kinds of awesome.
Surprises
I have been quite content the last two weeks. Joey is here and is not going anywhere. I've hardly even noticed that I haven't had a single day off since he moved in until two days ago, I just can't wait to get home every day. The transition has been pretty easy. All of his stuff is mostly put away and the things that are not are only just now starting to drive me nuts. We have plenty of space and everything will find its home eventually. In the meantime though, I've been enjoying the little every day moments. I suppose that what has surprised me most are the things that have surprised me, despite knowing this guy for 9 1/2 years now and thinking I knew everything there was to know. I have composed a list:
1) He watches the news. And complains when I change the channel. He also watches the financial channel every morning and remarks upon gold being up. I don't know who he is talking to.
2) There are socks everywhere. On the floor, under the sheets, in the couch cushions. How many pairs of socks can the man possibly shed in a day?
3) He's surprisingly anal about random cleanliness. Yesterday I found him washing the bathroom trash can in the kitchen sink because it was "filthy." It wasn't. I don't know what was up with that.
4) Yesterday, we did four loads of laundry and only one load was my stuff. For a jeans and T-shirts kind of guy, dude has a ton of laundry.
5) I will never, never tire of having someone make me an omelet and a cup of coffee while I'm in the shower.
6) If I leave him alone in the apartment, even for 30 minutes, he will start playing video games.
7) He has lived on his own for the last 10 years, but apparently as soon as he moved in, he forgot how to prepare his own dinner. He makes breakfast for us almost every morning, but after 1:00 pm, he loses all sense of how to feed himself. I have been asked "what's for dinner?" every night for the last 14 nights.
8) He HATES it if someone tries to tell him something when he's on the phone. He will ignore you and shoot you dirty looks until he hangs up and then he will remind you that he HATES it when people try to talk to him when he's on the phone. I cannot wait for him to have a four year old.
9) Two days ago, he insisted that Big left Carrie at the altar in Sex & The City 2 and vehemently disagreed with me when I said it was Sex & The City 1. Seriously, Joe? Seriously?
10) He felt my laptop ran too hot. He spent 2 hours online researching the best laptop cooling pad. He came home with one the next day. Thoughtful, caring nerds are the best kind.
11) He makes me forget how busy I am and makes me know everything will be fine and he makes me laugh every day.
So far, so good.
1) He watches the news. And complains when I change the channel. He also watches the financial channel every morning and remarks upon gold being up. I don't know who he is talking to.
2) There are socks everywhere. On the floor, under the sheets, in the couch cushions. How many pairs of socks can the man possibly shed in a day?
3) He's surprisingly anal about random cleanliness. Yesterday I found him washing the bathroom trash can in the kitchen sink because it was "filthy." It wasn't. I don't know what was up with that.
4) Yesterday, we did four loads of laundry and only one load was my stuff. For a jeans and T-shirts kind of guy, dude has a ton of laundry.
5) I will never, never tire of having someone make me an omelet and a cup of coffee while I'm in the shower.
6) If I leave him alone in the apartment, even for 30 minutes, he will start playing video games.
7) He has lived on his own for the last 10 years, but apparently as soon as he moved in, he forgot how to prepare his own dinner. He makes breakfast for us almost every morning, but after 1:00 pm, he loses all sense of how to feed himself. I have been asked "what's for dinner?" every night for the last 14 nights.
8) He HATES it if someone tries to tell him something when he's on the phone. He will ignore you and shoot you dirty looks until he hangs up and then he will remind you that he HATES it when people try to talk to him when he's on the phone. I cannot wait for him to have a four year old.
9) Two days ago, he insisted that Big left Carrie at the altar in Sex & The City 2 and vehemently disagreed with me when I said it was Sex & The City 1. Seriously, Joe? Seriously?
10) He felt my laptop ran too hot. He spent 2 hours online researching the best laptop cooling pad. He came home with one the next day. Thoughtful, caring nerds are the best kind.
11) He makes me forget how busy I am and makes me know everything will be fine and he makes me laugh every day.
So far, so good.
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