Conversations with the moon…

There was a really gorgeous, huge crescent moon in the sky tonight as I was driving home from hanging out with some friends in Town Square. I was admiring the moon, and planning to take a few pictures of it when I got home, but as I drove west on the 215, I noticed the moon was starting to disappear, swallowed by a mountain made invisible by the night sky. Since the city is more or less surrounded by mountains, and it would be quite a hike, in the dark with minimal survival skills (though Tyler, Su Shi and I did pick up some survival skills tonight at Borders) to make it to the top of one to try and take a picture, my moment with the moon was lost, and I wasn’t able to memorialize it on my digital camera. It made me a little sad.

So many things in life are temporary. At 29 and starting a second year all of my jobs have been more or less temporary. School is temporary. Youth  is temporary. Sadly, sometimes even our relationships our temporary. Many seasons of my life have slipped on by before I was ready to let them go. And sometimes before I could appreciate them for what they were.

With the loss that I’ve experienced, I have learned to cherish every moment. Even as a child, I wasn’t in a hurry to grow up. For a while I was in a hurry to get my driver’s license, but that was an entirely different note. Even then, I was somehow able to realize that childhood was something that I would miss, and I hung on to it.

Yet, I’ve also come to expect change. To know that it’s going to happen. And sometimes I can’t help but fear the worst. I worry about losing the people I love. I worry about getting too old and hating myself for not taking advantage of life when I could.

So, as I saw the moon sinking into the mountains. Disappearing prematurely into what seemed like mid-sky and I drove for a while under a moonless, desert sky, I felt a little like a metaphor had been painted for me in the sky. I’ve been fretting over how unstable my life feels right now. I’d like to say my little moment with nature made me feel better, but it actually just reminded me of all the things that have been making me feel so blue lately.

 

sometimes I forget…

That I’m not ugly. Or fat. That my life is actually pretty cool. That I’m talented, and smart. Attending a great law school. That I have a supportive family, awesome friends. Good with people, kids, and dogs. When I see my name somewhere – the image that comes to my mind of what I am, is far less impressive than the me I really am.

I don’t know where this atrociously low self-esteem originated. I don’t believe that it is evident that by default I feel this way about myself. Fortunately throughout most of the day I forget that I think these things about myself and carry on. But lately I am plagued by these thoughts a little more than usual.

 

Decisions…

I doubt I could even begin to count the number of times I’ve been faced with a decision where one choice seemed safe and comfortable (the easy road), and the other choice was enticing, exciting, but seemed a little risky (the scary road). Sometimes I take the easy road. Other times I have taken the scary road. Funny thing is, whenever I take the easy road, I always wonder: what if. The scary road? Well I can’t think of a single example where the scary road didn’t work out or left me wondering if I had made the right decision.

 

Let’s take my divorce as an example. Those who know me well, know this was a big turning point in my life. My ex made enough money, would never leave me. It was quite “safe” to stay. Except that neither of us was happy. Neither of us would be happy. My religious past, the impending legal battle, fears of being alone, concern for what friends and family would think – and a host of other concerns left me battling out this decision for over a year. Leaving was the scary road. I didn’t expect it to be easy. Yet, when it came down to it – while there were difficult moments – I never once doubted that I made the right decision. As scary as it was, I was happy, I was blessed. Friends pulled through for me in ways that absolutely stunned me. And my life was and is so much better for it now.

 

Why reach back to that point? It was the moment in my life where I realized for the first time that I had control over my life. I could make a decision – as scary as it seemed at the time – and have it work out fabulously. After that came a full-time job that I left for law school. A week on a cruise ship with two fabulous friends. Two years of being more or less single because I was determined to never settle again.

 

And Wednesday I was offered an internship with the States Attorney’s office. An internship that promised a paying job next summer, and after graduation. Job security in this market is priceless. Yet, it’s Decatur, IL. In my decision to go to law school I never once thought I would stay in Illinois after graduation. Actually, I didn’t think I would stay in Illinois for law school. And the job is in criminal law. Interesting, yes. But, never really been what I was passionate about.

 

On Thursday I was offered an internship with the ACLU in Las Vegas. Civil Rights – that’s what I went to law school to do. It’s in Las Vegas – a fun city and a change of scenery. And it’s an open door towards a bright future with someone I love very much. Why is this the scary choice? Because its new, and different. And not in the Midwest. And I’ll have to meet new people and say a temporary goodbye to my awesome Champaign compadres (who I hope will come visit me.)

 

So which do I choose? Simple, safe, close to home? Or the exciting adventure of hopes and the unknown.

 

The little things…

He was here. For two weeks…

What it felt like to see him standing outside of baggage claim – on the phone with me. Hugging him, collapsing in his arms moments later.

Conversations with Teddy. Conversations with me, when I’m not saying a word.  Laughing.

Looking into my eyes, and making sure that I’m listening when he says I love you.

Snuggling in front of a movie that we know we won’t finish.

That he thinks taking care of me is his job.

That he had the best St. Patrick’s Day ever and I had the best birthday ever – in the same week.

Pictures of  “The Fam.” Stepdog included. Encouraging Teddy to come out of his awkward shell at the dog park.

Knowing that he likes garlic salt, A1, oreo blizzards,  drinking orange juice from the bottle, and the way I make popcorn.

Knowing that he likes to make me happy. And that he plans to do this forever. And that he’s not afraid to tell everyone this.

We didn’t do anything overly spectacular. Just the day to day… yet it was one of the best two weeks ever.

Feeling comfortable, and at home, as if we’d known each other for years.  All while realizing that we are still learning about the little things…

 

winter.

It’s hard to get back into the swing of things.

 

It’s cold outside. Five inches of snow on the ground this morning. Twice now we’ve had cold fronts leaving temperatures in the negative double-digits. Days are short. There’s very little sunlight to work with.

 

And at school there are three new professors to get used to. New classes. New teaching styles. New idiosyncrasies.

 

Same family though. I love my classmates. As anti-social as I’ve been. Retreating quickly back to my house after classes. Retreating into my warm hovel. Accompanied by dog and a cozy blanket.

 

I’ve never hated winter as much as I hate it this year. It should have been a sign when I wasn’t ready for summer to end. I love summer, but normally by the time when signs of fall start to sneak into my summer days, I’m ok with it.

 

I spoiled myself by going to the Bahamas over break this year.

 

My Mom

“Is that what it says in the Mommy book?” My mom asks, teasingly.

“Yup.” I answer with a matter-of-fact nod.

“Oh really? I don’t remember that rule. What page is it on?”

“Page 376.” I say as if I had read and memorized the entirety of this imaginary book. Already my creativity was showing. Sure, my mom had come up with the idea of “the mommy book.” Something she whipped out whenever I made odd requests, but I’m the one who decided it had infinite pages, chapters, codes.  I’m not sure when we stopped referencing the mommy book. As a matter of fact, I don’t remember when we started using the mommy book, but for many of my childhood years, the rules of the mommy book guided our mother-daughter relationship.

Once I made it past the can’t-hold-anything-down-crying-every-sleepless-night stage of my life I was a pretty easy kid. Terrified of getting in trouble. A good student. Eager to please. This allowed my mom a lot of freedom to be pretty lax with me. When it was just the two of us, we got to do really neat things for dinner. Like eat crab meat straight out of the can on the living room floor.

I can’t mention dinner without starting into one of the many, many sacrifices my mom has made for me throughout my life. Late in junior high I decided I was a vegetarian. No red meat, no pork. A physical for school had shown that I was anemic. So, even though I was content to eat side dishes and junk food, for several years my mom made two main dishes. A fish dish for me and something my dad would eat for the two of them.

My mom had a silly sense of humor. Yard pranks were a common occurrence. When her friends had birthdays it was always about how creative you could be with the decorative ornaments. Signs, toilets. Anything to get the message across.

Images of my mom and Aunt Pat dancing to “Hot Legs” will be forever etched into my mind. Neither was shy about popping in a video or tape and dancing erratically around the living room. At the time I found it embarrassing. I would roll my eyes, tell them how ridiculous they looked. Now, I appreciate that it’s a good time, and may occasionally be found enjoying this kind of entertainment with a friend or two. Yes, even though I fought it for so many years on principle alone (my mom is wonderful, I don’t know why else I would have). I am, in many ways, my mother’s daughter.

My mom also laughed at things I didn’t find funny. During summers I lived in the pool – and the sun and chlorine were ruthless on my blonde hair. A couple of times my mom thought it would be a good idea to make “conditioner.” Mayonnaise, egg whites, who knows what else. These homemade conditioners were never a good idea, and usually left me uncomfortably standing on kitchen chair, bent over the kitchen sink. Once the nastiness of it all was realized my mom would usually laugh. Giggle uncontrollably. I felt like crying I was so uncomfortable – and she just laughed at her own forgetfulness. Not thinking about HOW we’d wash all this oil-based food product out of my hair.

These little memories of silliness are packed among so much family tragedy that they don’t really stand out unless something triggers it. The mayonnaise-based conditioner story was told a few years ago during a conversation about hair remedies. I didn’t even think about how my mom reacted until a friend thought to ask. Then I realized – she laughed. That’s how she reacted. Or if today she does something that sends parmesan cheese flying across the room, or if she tries to cook and the fire alarms go off – she laughs. But the terrible memories for some reason stand out so much more clearly. Perhaps because it is these memories that really shape us all as individuals, as a family. It’s in these memories that so many of our similarities, and our differences, really stand out.

We’re both strong, independent, survivors. But my mom usually thinks her way through things, while I can’t help but feel my way through them. Maybe it’s in our signs.

There was a time when my mom was really into astrology, crystals, palm reading. Using astrology she would comment on my moods and sensitivity – tell me it was because I was a Pisces. I wasn’t sure about the validity of any of this at the time, but even if it were true, I don’t know how that was supposed to help me feel better. Knowing your sign doesn’t change who you are, but when you’re old enough to do so, it can help you understand those people you just can’t figure out. Capricorns – logical, pragmatic, matter-of-fact, emotionally cool, cautious. Pisces – emotional, dreamy, intuitive, connected to everyone around them and always looking for a greater purpose. In a parent-child relationship the two have a mutual respect for one another, even though they will have difficulty understanding one another. I guess this is why my career choices have often left my mom befuddled. At times it can be frustrating to not have her jump excitedly onto the back of an idea that I have. But in the end, I always get her support. And her sacrifices.

My mom was a police officer/detective most of my life. To me it was a job she did, not a skill she had. That is until my backpack was stolen out of my dorm room. She drove the thirty miles to Carbondale and immediately started to investigate. I thought that this was pretty silly. I was certain she wouldn’t find anything. I wasn’t entirely convinced that I hadn’t lost it somewhere. She took the 15 flights down the stairs from my room and traced a path across a footbridge over a creek and into the back parking lot. In the dark, muddy, mess of a creek she found my bible – still containing the scribbles from all of my friends at camp. It had been thrown out of the backpack and over the side of the bridge. It was at that moment that I realized that my mom had a talent, a gift. I could have walked that bridge a hundred times and I wouldn’t have seen the dark green cover lying in mud and moss and water.

Though I didn’t realize it at the time, looking back it’s so clear to see how much of what my mother did was to make me happy. Buying me a red faux-leather coat so I could look like Michael Jackson, an Atari for Christmas even though I asked for it last minute, no hamburger in the spaghetti, an insane amount of Barbies, staying in a miserable marriage, summers at Grandma and Grandpa’s, a lax curfew in high school, the master bedroom at the new house, paying for college mostly on her own, showing up to help me move at the most inconvenient times. Not every parent does these things for their child, and in my case these have all been done without expecting anything in return.

 

ANS 12/08

 

My Grandma

I’m in Wal-Mart, and my mom has given me a $20 dollar bill to buy something that I would like. In the 1980’s this was more than enough for me to buy three or four books. I’ve chosen one that looks interesting, and I’m all set to buy it. However, I’m shopping with Great-Grandma Munson and Grandma VanBrooker.

Grandma Munson spies the book in my hand first, so she firmly takes it from me. She declares that she is going to buy the book for me.

“No, mom. Let me get that for her.” Grandma VanBrooker argues as she tries unsuccessfully to pull the book from my great-grandma’s hands. Her voice is small, childlike, but she’s insistent.

“No, I am getting this for her. You get to see her more often than I do. I don’t get to do this very often.” She argues. Her pointy glasses and matronly dress add to the sternness of her claim. She doesn’t intend to lose this argument.

I sheepishly interject. “I-I have money.” And I hold up the twenty dollars that mom has given me to use on something that I want.

“No.” Both grandmas say almost in unison. They want me to keep my money.

After a little bickering between the two of them, we are back in the book isle so I can pick out a second book. This way, each gets to buy me something, and both are happy. I consider buying a third with my own money, but I realize that they would probably argue over who got to buy me that one, so I wait until later.

Even though I was very young, I have many memories of these little exchanges. They were funny to me. That each could be so insistent about wanting to do something nice for me. It was difficult for me to accept gifts. I was shy, bashful – and I often didn’t think I deserved them. I realize now that seeing the joy and excitement on someone’s face is what makes gift-giving so worthwhile. I just hope that my shyness never made them feel I was ungrateful.

I always looked forward to going to Grandma and Grandpa’s. “VanBooger,” I’d say. I couldn’t pronounce VanBrooker very well. Mom would patiently correct me a couple of times, before letting me be content in my mispronunciation. Every time we’d drive by a road laid with loose, white rocks, I’d hopefully ask “Do grandma and grandpa live down there?” The answer was always no – they lived five hours away so the chance of happening to drive by their road was very slim.

But how I loved to go visit them. I was always “Grandma’s Girl,” and “Grandpa’s Cutie.” These were their names for me, and they would repeat them to me often. Another little friendly competition, Grandpa would usually start, “You’re Grandpa’s Cutie, right?” When I would bashfully answer yes, Grandma would interject – “But you’re Grandma’s Girl, aren’t you?” Their way of making me feel special and loved, and it worked.

My mom would drive me up to a truck stop in Auburn, where Grandma and Grandpa would meet us. We’d eat lunch and then Grandma and Grandpa would take me back to the farm with them. Even the car rides were exciting. They really seemed so happy to have me come visit – just feeling that I was wanted was more than enough to thrill me and make the second 2.5 hours not that bad.

More often than not, rainclouds would follow us home. Grandma and Grandpa would talk about what good luck I was, because the crops needed rain, and I was bringing the rain to them. I was happy to be such good luck, but I didn’t enjoy the rain. My grandparent’s land was always an adventure to be explored, on horseback, four-wheeler, or foot – I just loved to be out and about.

When it rained, I did get to stay home and play games with Grandma. Connect Four, Rummy, Checkers. I remember the summer she stopped letting me win, and I had to work for it a little harder. I thought that I had suddenly gotten really bad at Checkers. Eventually I realized that you have to grow up eventually – and the adults stop letting you win. Even still, one of the “cool” things about my grandma was that she “loved” to play all the games that bored my parents. As an only child, when mom or dad wouldn’t play a game with me, I had to entertain myself somehow. But, when Grandma was around, I always had someone to play with.

One of the first things Grandma would always insist on doing was take me grocery shopping. Even though she’d get a list of my favorite foods from my mom, and have these all stocked and ready in the kitchen, she always wanted to take me to the grocery store, let me look around make sure there wasn’t something else I wanted to have to snack on. We’d plan meals, because she wanted make sure that I liked the food that we were going to make. No, I never went hungry at Grandma’s. That was guaranteed.

While I was there, I would always overhear Grandma bragging about “her girl” over the phone. How well behaved I was, how helpful I was, how nice it was to have me visit. Always loving encouragement and praise, this just made me want to be even more helpful, even better behaved.

Grandma VanBrooker could also keep secrets. When we were sixteen, my cousin Justin and I decided to take a trip up to Grandma’s on our own. He drove. The five hour trip took us less than four hours. And we stopped at a Wal-Mart on the way. When we rolled in, Grandma just laughed and said, “I know what time you two left. You better wait a little bit before you call your moms.”

As a child I always loved and looked forward to visits to my grandma and grandpa’s, but also visits from them. I would brag about how cool my grandparents were and all the wonderful things they did for me. But even still, I don’t think I realized that not everyone is blessed with such amazing grandparents. One thing about my family that I think sets it apart from others is that with all the giving and generosity they pour out, they never expect anything in return. Independent we all are, no one ever says that you have to come visit. Rather, it’s “I know you’re busy, so you come when you can.” These little things are never taken for granted, and always appreciated. It’s what makes time with them that much more special.

 

ANS 12/08

 

and….. Break!

Did I really just finish a semester of law school?

There were people who thought I wouldn’t do it. That it was a passing fancy, and that I didn’t have the drive or motivation to get it done. Ok, so people was one person. But still when someone tells me I’m not going to do something it gets me down. I am easily discouraged. I’m not driven by a drill sergeant mentality. I need encouragement. And success.

Which is NOT what you get on a regular basis in law classes. I don’t remember every being explicitly discouraged, but since grades are strictly curved and everything boils down to one final at the end of the semester, I still have no idea how well (or poorly) I really did.

The negative influence has been removed from my life for a while now. When I started buzzing the idea around my friends, they thought it a spectacular idea. And I don’t think they were just saying that. There were those who had seen me in debate action, arguing intelligently and effectively against deacons and pastors. (I believe the topic was why Harry Potter was less evil than The Chronicles of Narnia*.) And from that just thought – “She’s really good at that. She should be a lawyer.” (Which I guess speaks to the stereotypes some of my friends have about lawyers**.) And there were other friends who just thought me brilliant and able to do anything. (You see what wonderful people I surround myself with, and why I feel the need to pay homage to them.)

And so I found myself one winter, sitting at Aroma Café, on a bit of whim dropping a lot of cash to register for LSAC, and the LSAT… I think I even went to Barnes and Noble later that night for an LSAT study aid. Thus, I was committed. Voluntarily and in a good way.

And look at me now. A law student. A semester down. New friends. I think most of my professors liked me well enough. I don’t think I failed. A good enough start, I hope.

 _________________

*Neither of which I believe is evil. I was just meeting the “church people” where they were, so to speak.

**Hopefully that they are articulate and make good adversaries. But I would I wouldn’t want to assume.

 

“I don’t eat. I drink.”

This quote is taken entirely out of context, really. She was talking about Slim Fast and Mr. Pibb, I swear. Not that the other couldn’t apply. But you know…

The second entry in my homage to the people I love, I move to Shellie. About her, I say: Some things are just meant to be.

There are a lot of people in school that I love. We’re a class of good people, we really are. And after returning from Thanksgiving break, I realized how much like family they had all become for me. But somewhere among coffee with professors, pedicures, queso, Bacardi, and similar thoughts and experiences on life, religion, and love, I found a new best friend and partner in crime.

Sitting in Stancil’s class fairly early into the semester,I heard Shellie speak up. There was a particular point of personal jurisdiction (that I won’t get into here) that she thought was absolutely ridiculous. She was not shy about letting her disgust show. Not an alien to righteous indignation myself, I thought: I must meet this woman. She seems like my kind of people.

After a different class a few days later I found an opportunity and, I actually went up to introduce myself. We had all of our classes together. I knew who she was because she had been socratically picked on (in a good way) by several professors already. The introduction was friendly enough, but I sensed (in the way that only women can) that she was a little suspicious of my introduction. Ok, fair enough. [I’m not actually sure if this is true or not. We’ve never discussed our first meeting, and I’m not even sure she remembers it.]

So, I can tell you first impressions, but I honestly can’t remember how the friendship developed from there. Somewhere along the way, these two water signs were drawn to one another. Quickly enough we each realized that the other was a woman that we did not need to compete with. My introduction was not to size her up, and her suspiciousness was only a conditioned defensive response– not offensive at all. Once this was all recognized, we joined together and became a force that could not be reckoned with: individually necessary, but only jointly sufficient. This girl got me through my first semester of law school. Our breakdowns came at different times, so one was always ready to bring the other back to sanity. (She whisked me away to Chicago for a day just in time.) She explained the Learned Hand theory in a way that no one else could. The outlines she shared were more thorough than mine will ever be. And, to steal her words: Studying together is like two people who know precisely the right moment to talk during a movie.

But while she is an immensely important classmate/colleague our friendship goes way beyond that. I don’t let just anyone in. Sure, when you meet me, I may seem an open book. If you’re willing to forge into a deep topic, I am right there with you. I’ll tell you my thoughts, my beliefs. But, I won’t tell you my secrets. Those you have to earn. We’ll just say that Shellie’s one of those people who gets to hear all my secrets. If I said much more than that, she and I both would have to kill you. 

                                                                                                               

 

Teaching me to visualize the fruity drinks of my labor…

We watch these shows. Shows like Friends, Seinfeld, How I Met Your Mother highlight multifarious groups of friends that everyone wants to be a part of. I’m lucky enough to have several friends who are way cooler than Joey or Chandler, or even Barney.

Haaaaaave you met my friend, Lauren?

“I like it when you call me a bitch. It shows that we’re really close.” It was with Lauren that bitch first ever became a term of endearment. Lauren brings with her a huge smile and a bundle of energy wherever she goes. Sometimes I’m jealous of the way she can lift the mood of a room anytime, anywhere.

You know you’ve found a true friend when you can admit to all of your shortcomings and that person will still love you. If I am totally heinous to someone, Lauren will be there to take my side. I think that a lot of this is because we seem to easily understand the other’s motivations. If someone is ever truly heinous to me, Lauren will be there with a host of expletives and terrible names describing the other person. You know you’re loved when your friends refer to a guy they’ve never met a *word-best-not-written-on-a-public-forum* just for being mean to you. It hard for me to tell the juicy secrets – Lauren was one of the first people to drag me out my shell. Thank you, open forum.

I can also credit Lauren with a lot of the energy that I put into law school. When I needed to stay in to prepare for the LSAT, she cheered me on for working so hard and told me stories of how she was always irritated when friends tried to make her feel guilty for needing to work or study. When my mom drilled me on my decision so much so that I was feeling discouraged she wrote me a motivational note about how are parents are from another generation and our decisions don’t always make as much sense to them. When I thought I might fail finals, and dropping out seemed a better thing to do, she reminded me of my future island getaway where we could sip strawberry daiquiris served to use by hot island boys with adorable accents. Ok, I added the accent part, but I’m sure she’d agree.

Lauren is one of the most generous people I know. I can’t mention this quality about her without giving her props for having the market on themed gifts. Every item has its greater purpose. My finals survival kit… my spring break birthday present… Going in with her for joint gifts is fun and exciting. It becomes a mission to create the best present. Perfect for the occasion and person. She’s also he most willing dog-sitter you’ll find. (Probably because Teddy is the best dog you’ll find.) And if you’re out on the town – the first to hop up and buy a round at the bar. She’ll also be the first to dare you to make an ass of yourself. But that’s another blog…

She’s done so much more than this for me… But it’s ok, because one day when I’m a rich lawyer I can return the favor when she’s spending summers at my island home and taking advantage of all the cute cabana boys I’ve hired.